Page 46 of Ruin My Life (Blood & Betrayal #1)

Until I own it.

“I meant…” I swallow, my cheeks burning. “You don’t have to be… gentle .”

I don’t want him to think I need cradling. I don’t want him to tiptoe around me like I’m fragile or breakable.

I like his ferocity—his fire.

I want to be overwhelmed.

I want to be ruined by him.

Damon’s eyes darken. They’re bottomless, ravenous, like two black holes intent on consuming me. A wicked grin tugs at his lips, slow and lethal, and my stomach flips like it’s been dropped from a rooftop.

“Is that your way of telling me that my little rose… likes it a little rough?” he purrs, his breath brushing my ear.

A violent shiver rolls down my spine. I grip his biceps tighter.

“Just don’t treat me like I’m delicate,” I breathe. “You have all of me, and I want all of you too.”

I barely have time to blink before he moves.

In one fluid motion, Damon flips me onto my back, pinning me to the mattress with my legs dangling off the edge. He hovers over me, arms planted beside my head, his body heat bleeding into mine.

I think he’s about to slide inside me, claim me completely. But instead, he travels downward, trailing kisses down my stomach until his breath fans hot over my folds.

I tremble beneath him. “What are you—?”

He looks up at me through thick lashes, his hands gripping the backs of my thighs as he yanks me closer to the edge of the mattress.

“If you want all of me,” he growls, his gaze fixed between my legs, “then I need you dripping wet, mi rosa .”

He inhales deeply, the sound animalistic and primal .

“That—and I’ve been fucking dying to taste how sweet this pussy is.”

I don’t even get a chance to feel embarrassed before his mouth is on me.

Holy . Fucking . Shit .

His tongue drags through my folds with precision—from my entrance to my trembling clit—then circles back to suck with wicked purpose.

“Damon!” I cry out, hips bucking against his mouth as my spine arches off the mattress.

I’ve been eaten out before—once or twice, fumbled and forgettable—but never like this.

Damon devours me like he’s starving.

Like this is sacred. Like I’m sacred.

He eats like a sinner at confession—worshipping with lips, teeth, tongue. Tasting. Claiming. Wrecking .

And when he growls against my clit, a guttural vibration that sets my nerves ablaze, I see stars.

My fingers claw at the sheets. My breath turns ragged.

“Fuck,” he groans against me. “You taste like the heaven I’ll never see. My own heaven on earth is right here between your legs.”

Between his sinful mouth and those goddamn words, I come undone—

Shaking.

Clenching.

Unraveling .

Damon doesn’t stop until he’s coaxed every last tremor from my body, like he’s pulling the climax from my bones.

Then, just as I’m catching my breath, he flips me over with effortless strength, guiding me onto my stomach. His hands grip my hips and lift my ass into the air until I’m kneeling at the edge of the bed. Open. Waiting.

Two fingers slide into me—slow and deep—pumping to the knuckle and curling just right. His lips glisten with my arousal as he watches from behind, eyes heavy-lidded and dark with desire.

“So wet,” he mutters, licking his lips. “So fucking perfect. ”

I rise onto my elbows and glance back just in time to see him shove his pants and boxers down in one fluid motion.

God .

He’s huge—thick and already slick with precum, the tip flushed and straining toward me. Every inch of him is mouth-watering, and the sight alone makes me clench around his fingers.

“Hands on the headboard, little rose,” he commands, giving my ass a light smack as he urges me forward.

I obey, gripping the curved wood as he positions himself behind me, lining up. His fingers dig into my hips, pulling me flush against him.

“This is your last chance to change your mind,” he murmurs, voice gravel rough. “Ask me to be gentle.”

I roll my lips together, eyes blazing, and shake my head.

“I want it,” I say. “I want you .”

A growl rips from his chest—low, dangerous, unrestrained. He palms one cheek, squeezing hard until I gasp.

“You yell stop if it’s too much. Promise me.”

“Promise,” I pant, glancing over my shoulder. “Now stop worrying about me… and fuck me, Damon.”

He drives into me hard enough to steal the breath from my lungs.

His cock slams deep, nailing that devastating spot inside me with brutal precision, making my vision blur and my thoughts scatter.

Every punishing thrust sends the bed crashing into the wall, the headboard rattling violently under my grip. The sound of the posts thudding against drywall echoes with the slap of his thighs pounding into mine—relentless, feral, perfect.

He wasn’t kidding about being rough.

His fingers sink into the flesh of my ass, bruising with every squeeze, every commanding pull—and I want more.

All of it. The pain. The pleasure. The way he fucks me like he’s trying to carve his name into my soul .

The wet, filthy sound of his cock plunging into me echoes through the room—obscene and addictive. I crave the way he pulls out to the tip just to slam back in harder, each thrust accompanied by a grunt torn from his chest.

His breathing grows ragged, his muscles flexing as he drives himself closer to the edge. I can feel it in the way he throbs inside me—harder, more desperate.

Then he leans over my back, skin slick with sweat, and hooks his arm beneath my chest. His forearm slots between my breasts, palm curling around my throat with practiced ease.

He yanks me upright against his front, my hands slipping from the headboard as I’m fully impaled on him, arched back, head falling against his shoulder.

And he doesn’t slow down.

If anything, it’s worse—deeper. Wilder. Every thrust strikes a nerve ending, every breathless second a new ignition point. His grip tightens around my throat—just enough to make my breath stutter, to blur the edges of my vision.

“You like that, little rose?” he rasps, his breath hot against my ear. “You like being fucked like a whore while I take your breath away?”

“F–fuck, yeah,” I whimper, thighs shaking as my third orgasm builds like wildfire in an August drought.

“Yeah?” His teeth sink into the place where my neck meets shoulder, biting down before sucking hard. I know he’s leaving a mark. Claiming me. “How about when I mark you? So everyone knows who you belong to.”

“Yes,” I pant, trembling from the inside out. “Yes, Damon—fuck, please !”

His groans grow louder, more guttural, as he grips tighter. “You’re so fucking good. Take me—take me like a good fucking girl, mi rosa . Just like that.”

My vision goes white.

Pleasure sears through my body, burning every thought from my brain as I scream his name, the sound torn from me in a release so intense it robs me of breath. I come hard, violently—my body locking around him, milking every throb of his cock as he groans into my neck .

He bites down again as he follows me over the edge, hips stuttering, thick warmth flooding inside me in pulsing waves. He doesn’t stop until he’s emptied every last drop of his cum deep inside me.

And still, I cling to him like I’ll unravel if he lets go.

My limbs are useless. Boneless. I slump against his chest, trembling and wrecked.

His hand slides from my throat to cup my breast while the other steadies me at the waist. His lips brush the shell of my ear.

“You okay?” he whispers, his voice hoarse but still tender.

I hum something incoherent, hoping he understands it as a yes .

He pulls out slowly, and I feel the gush between my thighs, hot and wet against my skin, soaking the sheets. I’m too spent to care. Too blissed out to move.

“I think we both need another bath,” he murmurs, a low chuckle vibrating through his chest as he scoops me into his arms. My head drops against him, heart still pounding. “Any objections?”

“Tired…” I mumble, my mind already drifting.

Damon presses a kiss to my forehead, carrying me like I’m fragile—even after I begged him not to. But when it’s him, like this, I almost don’t care.

And maybe that’s the difference.

He doesn’t treat me like glass.

He treats me like I’m his.

“ Puede que yo esté sosteniendo mi mundo en mis brazos, pero tú sostienes mi corazón en la palma de tus manos, mi rosa. Por favor cuídalo, así como yo siempre cuidaré de ti .”

I catch a few words— corazón , manos , and rosa .

Heart. Hands. Rose.

Even if the meaning escapes me, I know it’s something beautiful.

“Means?” I ask, still breathless.

Damon’s chest rumbles with a soft chuckle.

“Rest,” he whispers. “I’ve got you, little rose.”