Page 50 of Bound in Ruin

The cool air hits my exposed back for a fraction of a second before he pulls my hips up, his broad chest flattening against my spine. His hand tangles violently into my hair, pulling my head back so my ear is aligned with his lips.

"You like this, don't you?" he rasps, his voice dripping with a filthy, possessive edge as he drives back inside me from behind, hitting a spot so deep my vision flashes white. "You act like such a refined, silent little princess out in the world, but in this bed, you're a needy fucking mess for me."

"Yes," I cry out, my hands gripping the damp sheets as a wave of intense, violent pleasure coils tight in my stomach. "More, Dominic, please—harder!"

"Beg for it, sweetheart," he commands, his fingers digging into my hips, leaving soft bruises as he ramps up the pace to something completely feral. "Tell me how badly you need your husband to ruin you."

"Please! Fuck me harder! Ruin me!" I beg shamelessly, completely lost to the heat, tossing my head back against his shoulder as he thrusts into me with zero mercy, taking every sound, every sob, every desperate gasp straight from my throat.

The dirty words tumbling from his mouth, the relentless impact of his body against mine, and the absolute ownership in his touch drive me straight over the edge.

I fracture completely, a loud, shattered scream tearing from my lips as a blinding, violent orgasm crashes through my entire body, clamping my muscles around him so tightly he lets out a low, guttural roar, driving deep one last time as his own release tears through him.

He holds me pinned beneath him for a few long, breathless seconds, his heavy chest rising and falling violently against my back, his pulse hammering like a war drum where our skin meets.

Slowly, as the peak of his release begins to settle, he shifts his massive weight off me, rolling me over onto my back. I lie there completely spent, my eyes heavy, chest heaving, every muscle in my body trembling from the sheer force of what just happened.

Before I can even blink or gather my breath, Dominic’s hand moves up my throat.

His broad fingers wrap firmly around my neck—enough to pin me to the mattress and force my gaze up to meet his. His dark eyes are still blacked out, completely feral, showing zero sign of fatigue or mercy.

A wicked, lethal smirk curls the corner of his mouth as his other hand slides down my stomach, gripping the inside of my thigh and forcing my knee wide open.

"I’m not done with you," he rumbles, his voice low, raspy, and thoroughly possessive against my jaw. "Now spread those beautiful legs, let me taste you, and bathe you in my cum again. We’re just getting started."

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

DOMINIC

I wake up to the stable rhythm of Rosalia’s breathing against my chest.

She is completely tangled in the sheets, her soft, warm body curled tightly into mine, one arm resting over my ribs. Her soft hair spills across the white pillows in wild, messy waves.

In the faint gray light of dawn, she looks entirely at peace—no sharp defenses, no guarded posture. My hand moves on instinct, my knuckles brushing lightly against the curve of her jaw.

But as my fingers graze her skin, a sudden wave of confusion hits me like a blow to the chest.

Last night was supposed to be about establishing boundaries. It was supposed to be about control. Instead, I tore down every single wall I had built between us since the day we signed the marriage papers. The level of raw, unfiltered intimacy we shared wasn't part of the plan, and having her wrapped in my arms like this feels far too dangerous.

Slowly, carefully, I slip out from under her hold, replacing my warmth with the heavy comforter so I don't disturb her sleep.

I pull on a fresh dark shirt and pants, step silently out of the master suite, and head straight down the hallway to my study.

By the time I push the heavy oak door open, Keane is already inside, leaning against the edge of my desk with a steaming mug of black coffee in hand. He looks up from his phone, takes one look at my face, notes the tension locked in my jaw, and simply hands me a second cup without a word.

"You're up early," Keane says, taking a slow sip.

"Work doesn't wait," I grunt, settling behind my desk and taking a long swig of the dark roast, letting the bitter heat burn down my throat. "Give me the update."

Keane’s expression shifts, dropping the light atmosphere as he pulls a folded paper from his jacket. "It's about Dante. He's been making rounds with the inner circle since yesterday evening, talking loudly to anyone who will listen."

"What is he saying?"

"He's openly bragging that he's going to contest Luciano's legal arrangements," Keane answers, his tone dropping into a serious register. "He’s telling everyone that he’ll personally make sure Rosalia receives nothing from Luciano's will. Not a single cent, not a piece of property, nothing."

A cold, dangerous calm settles over me. My grip tightens around the ceramic mug until my knuckles turn white.

Dante thinks he can treat her like a helpless widow he can push into a corner and rob in broad daylight. He thinks because Luciano sidelined her for a decade, the rest of the family gets to step on her, too.