Page 38 of Brutal Heir (Ruthless Heirs #3)

IT WAS EVERYTHING

R ory

I’ve never felt so alive. Or so utterly wrecked, in the best, most breathless way imaginable. A part of me was certain I would never enjoy sex again. I feared Chip Armstrong had ruined me forever. As if Conall hadn’t done enough of a number on me first.

But this? This was exactly what I’d been waiting for.

Alessandro’s formidable body moves against mine, each stroke claiming me, possessing me, branding me. And feckin’ hell, I want all of it.

After Conall, I’d vowed never to be taken for a fool by a ruthless, powerful man again, but with Alessandro, all my vows have gone to hell. And if I’m headed there anyway, I may as well enjoy the ride.

My hands curl around the curve of his muscled arse as I drive him deeper inside me. I need more. I want him closer, deeper, harder.

The fire building between us for the past month rages like wild, and I’m so ready to burn. Flames lick across my veins with each desperate thrust, our movements growing more frenzied.

A tremor builds low in my belly, hot and wild and terrifying in its intensity. But it’s not just physical, it’s something deeper, like a dam inside me cracking wide open.

For a moment, it’s too much. Too big. Too raw. Tears burn at the edges of my vision. Years of control, of keeping everything locked up tight, are gone in the heat of his touch, in the way he looks at me like I’m the only thing worth living for.

My breath catches hard in my chest, and I cling to him like he’s the only thing anchoring me to the world. The pleasure builds until I’m writhing beneath him, the hard ridge of his cock stroking my clit. Harder.

“I’m so close,” I groan.

“Good girl, Rory,” he rasps, his own breaths coming in ragged spurts as he pounds into me. “Come for me, only me .”

A sob breaks free, half-pleasure, half-release, as the orgasm crashes through me, wild and uncontrollable. It tears through every wall I’ve built, every fear I’ve buried.

Alessandro falls seconds after, his cock twitching inside me and filling me with his warm cum. His forehead falls against mine, body blanketing my own.

And in that breathless, unraveling moment, I’m not the girl who ran. I’m not the broken survivor, or the careful nurse holding everything together.

I don’t flinch. I don’t freeze. I don’t feel that choking fear clawing up my throat.

I feel alive. Fierce. Free.

I’m just me. Completely undone, unguarded, entirely his.

And I feel… whole.

“ Cazzo , wildling, that was incredible.” Alessandro’s breath skates across my lips before he presses them to my mouth once again.

“It was something all right.” I’m still breathless, every part of me tingling, from my spine down to the tips of my toes.

Alessandro rolls over to lie beside me, one arm curled possessively around my waist, his breathing still a little ragged, chest rising and falling.

I lean my head against his chest, on the left side, the part that’s wholly undamaged and guards his heart.

The room smells like sex and sweat and something far more dangerous. Hope.

I should be panicking. Spinning out. Making a list of all the ways this was a terrible idea. But all I can do is feel.

The ache between my thighs, the ghost of his mouth on my skin, the faint pressure of his fingers where they held me like I might run.

I press a palm to my chest. My heart’s still beating like a war drum.

Because this wasn’t just sex. It was everything.

He didn’t just touch my body. He saw every shattered piece of me and didn’t flinch.

It had been the first time in forever that I’d let someone see me. Not just the girl with the bite and the sharp tongue, but the woman who still wakes up some nights gasping for air, the woman with scars no one can see.

I roll onto my side to face him. His eyes are closed, lashes dark against flushed cheeks, his face finally free of tension. Peaceful. Like the weight he always carries has been lifted, even if just for a moment.

God, he’s beautiful. Not despite his scars but because of them.

I reach out, fingers ghosting across his chest, tracing a line just beneath the bandage still taped to his ribs. He stirs, eyes fluttering open, trapping mine like he always does without warning or mercy.

His voice is rough with exhaustion and something sweeter. “What are you looking at, Red?”

“You,” I whisper. “Trying to figure out when I stopped being afraid of getting close to you, of this.”

He smirks faintly. “And?”

“I think it was sometime between the kiss after I ran away and the orgasm on the couch.”

A deep, raspy laugh escapes him, and it settles low in my belly. But under the warmth, the joy, the intimacy, there’s still that edge of fear.

Because now there’s no going back. Not for either of us.

And I don’t know if we’ll survive what comes next.

But I know one thing for damn sure: whatever happens now, I’m not walking away without a fight.

“I guess you were right all along, Nurse Rory.” He glances at his still semi-hard dick laying between us. “No problems in that department.”

“You just needed the right woman to wake him up, Rossi.”

He laughs again, and God, that sound warms every inch of me.

Jesus, Mary and Joseph, I’m falling in love with this man.

It wasn’t just the best sex of my life. It was the moment I knew, truly knew, I’d fallen for him.

Not a fluttery crush. Not a dangerous attraction.

But that big, terrifying kind of love. The kind you can’t take back .

Now his finger traces my body, circling my breast then lingers on my tattoo. I know the question will come again, it’s inevitable. I see the way he eyes the butterfly with unrelenting curiosity.

“Are you ready to tell me what this means?” he whispers, his finger still tracing the lines.

“ Saor óna slabhraí, ” I utter the words in a rough Gaelic, my throat hoarse with emotion. “Free from the chains.”

He stares at me now for a long moment, neither one of us speaking. Then finally, “What are you running from, Red?”

“My past,” I murmur.

“And did it work?”

I nod slowly. “I think so.” If only to fall even deeper into a new darkness. And because that mind-blowing orgasm clearly stole all common sense, I whisper, “It wasn’t only your first time back on the horse…”

His dark brows furrow as they raze over me.

“That man…” I pause, sucking my bottom lip between my teeth.

“The one who hurt you?” he growls sitting up, the peaceful, relaxed look in his eye from a moment ago vanishing.

I nod slowly. “You’re the first… after what happened with him.”

His face crumbles, the hard mask he typically wears morphing into something else entirely. “Fuck, Rory, I’m so sorry. I should have realized?—”

“No, there’s nothing to apologize for, you eejit.” I sit up and cradle his cheek in my hand, running my thumb over the soft, new skin. “You helped me get through it. There was a time I was terrified that I would never want to be with a man again. But everything changed when I met you.”

“Really?” A slow smile melts across his lips.

“You made me want things again. Things I thought were long broken and too far gone to ever repair.”

That smile turns rueful as he reaches for my cheek. “ Dio , you sound just like me.”

“I guess we’re two halves of the same wrecked soul, cracked in different places, but somehow we fit.”

“I couldn’t have said it better myself.” He watches me for a long time, and I can’t help but smile back at him. I can’t remember any man ever looking at me like that. Ever.

Conall regarded me as a possession.

That arsehole that attacked me like prey.

But Alessandro looks at me like I’m his beginning and end, like nothing else exists when I’m in the room.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

His brows knit as his fingers tangle with mine. “For what?”

“For Chip…”

A hard line slashes across his mouth, tendon fluttering like mad beneath the scruff along his jaw.

“That pezzo di merda deserved so much worse for daring to lay a hand on you. I wish I could go back and do it all over again, extend his suffering for lifetimes. No one touches what’s mine and lives.

” Fury coils around his frame, intensifying with every minute.

Before it gets out of hand, I lean in, brushing my lips against his. “Thank you,” I repeat. “But I just want to forget about him, okay? I never want to hear his name or think about him ever again.”

He nods, and a hint of the tension dissipates.

“Can you make me forget?”

A devious grin slowly crawls across his lips. “No,” he growls against my skin. “But I can make you feel so good you won’t care to remember.” His hands glide down my body, clamping around my hips, and he lifts me into his lap.

A giggle purses my lips as I straddle him, a feckin’ giggle! Rory Delaney does not giggle. Neither did Brigid O’Shea. And she sure as hell shouldn’t now. Because lies have expiration dates. And mine is ticking.

A sudden wave of guilt crashes over me as Alessandro tugs me into his chest, his hands holding me firmly in place. Everything I’ve told this man since the day we met has been a complete lie.

Would he still feel the same about me if he knew the truth?

Before I can fully contemplate the risks of telling him, his mouth captures mine.

He’s ravenous, teeth grazing against my own, hand curling around the back of my neck to deepen the kiss.

And just like that, everything else fades away.

With his tongue tangling with mine and cock already growing hard between my legs, I just want to get lost in him again.

Because when the truth comes out, I could really lose him forever.