Page 67 of Ruin My Life (Blood & Betrayal #1)

He frees himself from his jeans, shoving them and his boxers down in one rough motion. His cock is thick and heavy between my thighs, the tip already glistening with precum. He drags it along my core, letting the friction spark and tease until I whimper with impatience.

Then he wraps his hand around my throat.

He leans over me, grip firm—not enough to hurt, just enough to blur the world at the edges. My head spins, and all I can focus on is him.

He presses the tip to my entrance… and pauses .

A wicked smile curls his lips. The kind of smile that should come with a warning label.

“ Mine .”

He slams into me in one brutal thrust.

The desk jolts beneath us. My body arches as he fills me completely in one go. His other hand grips my thigh, hard enough to leave bruises I’ll wear like a trophy. The thought alone sets my skin on fire.

He’s ruthless.

Relentless.

Possessive.

And exactly what I need.

My thighs burn from the punishing rhythm of his thrusts. My fingernails gouge the desk pad beneath me. He tugs me up by the throat and crashes his mouth onto mine—kissing me like he’s starving, like he’s trying to devour every piece of me that ever felt broken.

The kiss is messy. Bruising. Perfect.

Sweat slicks my skin. The pleasure splinters through me, building faster than I can hold on.

Pressure coils low in my belly, winding tighter with every savage thrust. My vision swims. I feel him—feel every pulse, every thick inch stretching me wide.

He’s close. So am I.

Then he growls in my ear, dark and low—

“ Un día, mi amor, serás mi esposa, y llenaré tu cuerpo perfecto con mis bebés. Pasaré el resto de mi vida amándote, follándote y luego moriré siendo un hombre muy afortunado. ”

His accent alone could be a weapon.

And against me, it definitely is.

I shatter .

My body breaks open as the orgasm hits. I cry out, clutching his shoulders, my release soaking him as he buries himself deep and follows with a guttural moan. He fills me to the brim, holding me close while we fall apart in sync.

Our bodies tremble in the aftermath, breathless and tangled .

When the haze lifts, I’m still trying to process what he said.

I’ve been learning Spanish, but I’m far from fluent when it comes to full sentences—especially when they’re whispered in that sinful accent while he’s inside me.

I caught the important words.

Mi amor . My love. Esposa . Wife. Perfecto . Perfect. Bebés.

Babies?

I blink up at him, dazed, my legs still quivering around his waist.

There’s no way I heard that right.

We’ve talked about it in passing before—future tense, all hypothetical. But I’d always been the one to deflect. I wasn’t ready. Not when I felt unfinished, unhealed, half-alive.

But now?

I’ve graduated.

The Speakeasy is just a handful of weeks away from it’s grand reopening.

Damon’s burden is lighter.

My body is strong again.

And my heart—god, my heart knows exactly what it wants now. The thought of building a family with him makes my chest flutter and my blood run hot.

When he finally releases my throat and brushes sweaty hair off my face, I summon enough brain cells to whisper, “What did you say?”

He kisses my forehead, slow and deliberate—like a vow. “That we’re going to be late for your gift, mi amor .”

I narrow my eyes at him. “That’s not what you said.”

His grin is pure wickedness. “Guess you need to keep practicing your Spanish then, little rose .”

I open my mouth to argue, but before I can get a single syllable out, he pulls out of me—only for a rush of cum, hot and thick, to slip free and start to drip toward the edge of the desk.

Before it can, he shoves two fingers back inside me, sealing me up with a low, primal growl.

My gasp is sharp and immediate. “ Damon — ”

He chuckles, curling his fingers just so while reaching for a few tissues from the corner of my desk. “I’ll tell you what,” he murmurs. “I’ll keep saying it until you figure it out yourself.”

I pout at him, my lips tugging into something soft and teasing. “What if I never get it?”

Damon looks up at me—still crouched between my thighs like some dark, worshipful knight—and gives me one of those soul-breaking, heart-mending smiles.

“You will, mi rosa, ” he says, wiping me clean with a gentleness that’s anything but innocent.

Then he rises, cups my cheek with his clean hand, and kisses me—slow, deep, and grounding.

“You’re the smartest person I know. The most stubborn. The most determined.” His thumb drags over my bottom lip. “I have no doubt you’ll figure it out.”

He tosses the tissues in the bin by my desk and laces our fingers together as he helps me to my feet. My legs are still trembling, but I don’t mind. With Damon, I never have to feel unsteady. When I fall, he’s already there to catch me.

“I wasn’t lying,” he says, reaching for his jeans. “We’re going to be late if we don’t leave now.”

I smirk as I step back into my panties and shorts. “I’m already packed,” I tell him, snapping my bra into place and crossing the room.

I swing open my wardrobe to reveal the row of empty hangers and a neatly packed suitcase tucked inside. “Just need to toss in a few last-minute essentials.”

Damon’s smile widens. In three long strides, he’s in front of me, pulling me flush against his chest, his hands warm and secure on my waist. He presses a soft kiss to the crown of my head.

“Let’s go home, mi amor .”

Home.

Not just a place.

Not just an address.

Him.

I can’t wait to be home.

W E’VE BEEN ON the interstate for about an hour when I finally notice Damon’s GPS isn’t routing us back to New York.

There’s no audio on, and we’ve been listening to music and talking the whole time, but when I glance down, it’s already prompting him to take the next exit.

“Did you put in the right address?” I ask. “We’re nowhere near New York yet.”

He glances at the screen like he’s just now checking. “Yeah, I’ve got the right address in there.”

I peer out the window, squinting at the blur of trees and the occasional house tucked between thick forests. At first, it’s just another stretch of nowhere—until a flicker of recognition tugs at my memory.

We’ve been here before.

Many times, actually.

Judith’s Point passes by in a blink, and it all clicks.

“We’re going to Rebecka’s house?”

“Mm-hm.” Damon nods like it’s the most casual thing in the world. “She misses you too.”

My smile blooms so fast it almost hurts.

I love Rebecka—and it has felt like forever since I last saw her.

Over winter break, I’d taken the train and met Damon at the ferry port.

He’d already packed the SUV with the whole crew.

I figured spending the last stretch squished between Chavez and Lee would be better than an entire two hours from campus.

What I didn’t know was that Damon had planned to somehow shove them all into the backseat and give me shotgun the entire way.

The ferry is busier this time, brimming with people chasing summer. Sea spray mists my skin, clean and salty, and the breeze slides through my hair like a familiar hand.

By the time we reach the island, my chest feels lighter than it has in weeks .

We follow the winding route we always take—through New Shoreham and out to the dirt road threading through the trees. When Rebecka’s house comes into view, the front door swings open before we’ve even parked.

She’s waiting at the steps, her arms already opening for me.

Damon slows to a stop in the driveway, but I barely wait for the SUV to be in park before I’m unbuckling and throwing the door open.

Rebecka meets me at the bottom of the porch and wraps me in a hug so full and warm it nearly knocks the air out of me.

“You’re finally here,” she says, her hands rubbing my back. “I’m so proud of you, sweetie.”

She’ll never know how much those words mean to me. They bury themselves somewhere deep inside—between every scar and every survival story.

“I didn’t even know we were coming, but I’m so happy to see you,” I say, laughing as I pull back a little.

“Well, you know Damon and his secrets,” Rebecka teases, giving her son a mischievous brow wiggle. “He planned this weeks ago.”

“Why am I not even a little surprised?” I laugh, just as Damon steps up beside us. I rise on my toes and kiss his cheek. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

His hand finds the small of my back, warm and steady. He leans in, his voice soft but smug. “I’ve got a few more surprises up my sleeve. Dinner, for starters.”

I smile, remembering how his stomach growled halfway through the drive. When I asked if he wanted to stop, he swore he could wait. Now I know why.

Rebecka heads inside first, and Damon follows close behind me through the front door. But the second I cross the threshold—

“ Surprise! ”

A chorus of familiar voices echoes through the living room.

I stop dead in my tracks .

Silver and gold balloons hover near the ceiling. A shimmering banner stretches across the far wall, bold and glittering: CONGRATULATIONS.

Beneath it stand the people I love most.

Monroe.

Chavez.

Lee.

Dahlia.

Lola.

Even Hope is here—her hands clasped tight, eyes bright with quiet joy.

“What… what is all this?” I breathe, turning in a slow circle, my heart hammering behind my ribs.

When I find Damon, he’s not looking at anyone else. Just me. His eyes hold a thousand words. Pride. Love. Relief. Everything we fought for.

“Surprise,” he murmurs again, softer this time, just for me.

Tears prick hot at the corners of my eyes. Damon leans in and kisses them away—one, then the other.

“This is—” My voice cracks, but I don’t care. Not with them. “You guys are incredible.”

“You’re the MIT graduate,” Chavez says, smirking. “Pretty sure that makes you the most impressive one here.”

“Except maybe little Hope,” Lola tosses out from where she’s perched on the arm of the couch, elbow braced on Monroe’s shoulder.

All eyes shift to Hope. She squeaks and folds into herself, hands up in protest, cheeks flushed pink. “No, no, not even close—”