by Lucian Bane
Sudden concern shadowed her eyes but she went with her stubborn instinct. “I think so, yes.”
Ruin faced her, gesturing toward her. “Show me.”
“Show you… like…”
“Like take off your shirt.”
She lowered her gaze to his chest and Ruin removed his t-shirt. “Remove my shirt?” She stared at his chest.
“Oh, you’re repeating me?”
“But…right…right now?”
“Unless you have a head ache or not feeling up to it, you seem to be feeling better.”
She barely nodded.
“So take off your shirt. It’s just a shirt, it’s just clothes covering a body.”
She held his gaze for several seconds and Ruin was nearly sorry he’d challenged her because she was not one to back down from a challenge and he was sure he’d be the one to fail, not her.
Her hands moved slowly to the hem of her shirt and he stood frozen in a strange mixture of fear and anticipation. She removed the black t-shirt and sat, a wide black looking band around her chest. Keeping her head lowered, she reached under her arm and released what sounded like a large Velcro fastener. Ruin wanted to stop her but his sudden need to see her breasts held his tongue tight to his pallet.
She lowered the black band then and crossed her arms over her chest. As though realizing she was proving his point, she lowered them slowly. The sight of her delicate mounds obliterated his fears and brought desire slamming into his cock until his legs weakened. Jesus …he covered his face, needing a fucking break from the visual assault.
“My step mother said I was a carpenters’ dream,” the small words wisped out of her. “Flat as a board.” She cleared her throat then. “What next?”
But Ruin was fixated on her. On her scar in particular. The lighter skin began at her neck and ran down the entire left side of her body, disappearing under her pants. Ruin suddenly needed to see all of her imperfections. “I need to see you.”
“Are you blind?”
“All of you.”
She refused to look at him. “A lot of people do it in the dark.”
“Not me,” he assured.
“Well can’t you—“
“No, I can’t.”
“Ever heard of compromise?”
“Not in that, never.”
She only took a second before letting out an exasperated huff and standing. Ruin watched her undo her cargo pants then paused before pushing them down.
The idea that she might chicken out was not an option he wanted her to consider now. “Not as easy as it seems is it?”
The taunt brought her stubbornness back and she wiggled her hips, pushed the pants down. The black material beneath was boxy but tight, hugging her every curve including her mound, that Ruined learned immediately was delicate like her breasts. And the scar… it disappeared beneath the panties, never to be seen again. The combination of her scar and beauty caused his powers to erupt inside him, needing to bind hard with her. He gasped and turned from her.
“I get it,” she muttered, “I’m not voluptuous and I look like the frackin map of Egypt. You’ll have to make do.”
“Stop,” he whispered.
“Is this too hard for you? I mean for other reasons, because we can surely do this another time.”
Ruin opened his jeans, pushed them down and stepped out of them. “I think I’ll manage,” he said, turning.
She’d sat back down on the bed and now stared directly at his enormous erection, her perfect full lips parted in astonishment. As if realizing she were staring she jerked her bright green gaze up to his. “Okay,” the word squeaked a little. “Next?”
Ruin grabbed the base of his cock, wondering at what point she would stop him. And what if she didn’t? “Have you ever seen a cock?”
She shrugged, holding his gaze. “Sure.”
“In real life?” She nodded but there was something she was hiding. “As a woman?”
The lack of answer was answer enough.
“Have you ever masturbated?”
Her lips parted briefly then shut. “No.” She shook her head emphatic.
She wasn’t lying. “So you’ve never had an orgasm?” It was his turn to be a tad astonished. At seeing her struggle with shame, he whispered, “Look at me.”
“I am,” she whispered.
“Look at what I’m doing.”
“W-why do I need to?”
“If you can’t watch that, how will you…”
She lowered her gaze. “Watching.”
Ruin stroked himself, desire setting him on fire at having her watch him. His eyes locked on her breasts, peaked with large nipples, larger than… he clenched his eyes against the comparison. And yet he couldn’t deny the hunger to rivet his gaze back on the eager, untouched peaks. “Put your hands on the bed behind you.”
She took a moment to do as he said then slowly obeyed, presenting her breasts in all their delicate perfection. He closed the distance between them in two steps, making her lean away. But like a good girl, she kept her gaze fixated on his cock.
“Take your panties off, Samantha.”
Her eyes slowly raised, seeming to take their time over the expanse of his torso. When she finally met his gaze, he gasped at the need to storm that doorway in those eyes and make that hard connection. That’s what needed to happen as much as sex did, everything in him begged for it.
Chapter Thirteen
Sam swallowed, fighting the terror that would send her hiding under the covers. Easy. Just another art to learn. That’s all. Just sex. Everybody did it, no big deal. If she made it more than that, she’d not be able to do it. Oh God who was she kidding? He was terrifyingly male. She had no idea a man’s penis could be so huge. On top of all that, her body was on fire. On. Fire. God, what he was doing made her privates throb with a hot, hot ache. And the way he aimed it at her… she felt the threat and promise of things she’d barely ever thought about. Threats on so many levels.
And then her gaze met his and she realized where the real threat was. In those beautiful green eyes of his. He’d called her Samantha. She hated that name. But when he said it just then, it sent a pulse between her legs, making her stifle a moan. Everything about him commanded the woman in her. It was scary as frack and exciting.
Take off her panties. Right. They were just clothes. Covering a part of…the human body. Would he think she was weird to shave there? Was that considered acceptable? She never shaved it bald but kept it very short and trimmed. Neat and clean is how she’d always thought it. What if she was wrong?
Biology classes. That’s all. She remained sitting on the bed and began working the panties off, not wanting to stand and get any closer to him. He was like a raging desire and if she got too close, she’d get sucked into him and be burned up beyond repair and recognition. Worse than any real fire had ever done.
She finally kicked the panties off and got back in the position she’d been before, hands behind her, legs drawn up a little and tightly shut. Enough to hide that part from him. She couldn’t help it.
Her eyes darted to the lamp before returning to his commanding gaze, waiting for his next instructions, wishing he’d shut the light off and just get it done.
“The light most definitely stays on.” Every word he spoke now felt like a heartbeat between her thighs and she bit her lip to keep back all the sounds he caused her body to make. He stood with feet apart before her and got back to stroking himself, his eyes on her legs. “Open,” he commanded her. “Let me see you.”
Oh Jesus. She looked right and lowered her legs.
“Open,” he whispered.
She barely opened them and then gasped when he knelt at her knees. When their gazes snagged, her breath came out sharp and strained at seeing the brutal intent in his gaze.
“Like this.”
She fought not to resist his hands on her knees, gently pushing them apart. The reflex to deck him in the face had her clutching the covers behind her. She couldn’t look
at him and lowered her gaze to the bedspread on the right. He took his time opening her. Until she was whimpering in fear of how wide he would go. And then came her light moaning with every inch wider. It made it…hot…so hot.
“Samantha,” he whispered. The sound of his desire brought another moaned whimper, louder than the rest. “I’m going to make you come.” She let out a sharp breath, her privates on fire. “But I need you to say it.”
She closed her eyes, dizzy, confused. “S-say what.” She fought not to hyperventilate. Just sex, just sex. Come. Orgasm. Natural.
“Say you want me to.”
“Shit,” she whispered, keeping her eyes closed. “That’s…why we’re…”
“I need to hear it.” His fingers crept along her inner thighs now, matching the hot command in his soft words. “Tell me you want it.”
“Oh God,” she gasped at hearing the desperate ache in his voice as his fingers grazed over her outer folds.
“Is it hot Samantha?”
“Yes!”
“You’re dripping wet.” The whispered words matched his touch between her folds this time, making her cry out. “Tell me where it’s hot, Samantha.”
His extremely delicate stroke up and down her opening was maddening. Right…exactly next to what she needed him to touch, what throbbed and begged and burned. She squirmed her hips, trying to reach his finger.
“That’s it,” he whispered. “Show me where you need it.”
“Oh God,” she gasped, losing herself to the feeling, letting her head fall back. “Yes.”
“Right there?” He delivered tiny flicks on that hot spot, bringing shocking pleasure.
“Ruin, yes,” she whispered.
“Would you like me to lick you here?”
“Oh God,” she gasped. “Yes. Yes, do it.”
“Fuck, Samantha.”
She wriggled and moaned incessantly as his lips made their way along her inner thigh with licks and soft biting. She’d never been so desperate for something, so desperate for what promised. By the time those licks and nibbles reached her folds, she was beside herself with want, fingers in his hair, moving and flicking her hips shamelessly.
“I’m going to make you come so hard,” he promised, snaking a hand up her body and covering her left breast in a hungry grip that Sam arched into. He licked softly up and down her opening, again denying that spot she needed stimulating, making her squirm and beg for it. “This,” he asked, licking the spot only barely.
“Ruin, yes.”
“Yes,” he agreed with fervor.
“Oh my God,” she moaned as the tip of his finger worked slowly inside her opening.
“Explode for me, Samantha. Explode for me.” He held her folds open and pressed his mouth to that perfect spot then sucked gently while flicking his finger in her opening.
And she did, oh my God did she ever. Her body exploded with a hot, hard, electrifying pleasure that shuddered through her, bowed her off the bed, made her stifle a scream as she held on to his head, his silky hair, God that silky hair, so soft in her fingers.
She finally realized he was kissing softly at her inner thigh, whispering her name over and over. She also realized her fingers still clenched his hair, realized…oh God she’d behaved like a slut! Shame stung her cheeks.
His large hands slid up her sides so very slowly, commanding pleasure and promising things she’d never dared dream about. His fingers found her hands and pulled until she sat up. She couldn’t meet his gaze and then he suddenly stood.
The sudden appearance of his huge cock in her face punched the air right out of her body. He held the base with one hand and ran his finger over the tip, catching the shiny drop there.
She whimpered as he touched his finger on her lower lip, letting her know it was her turn.
But… she’d never done that before.
“Put your lips on it,” he whispered, his chest heaving.
She swallowed and looked at the huge tip, wishing she knew the perfect way, she wanted to do it perfectly.
“Samantha.”
Ruin gasped her name, sliding his finger along her face. “I need you to devour me. Suck me hard and deep into your mouth and don’t stop until I forget everything.”
It was the desperate need in his shocking words that unlocked something inside her, an instinctive knowing. He was surely drowning in need and she needed to save him.
Sam grabbed the base of his cock with both hands and did just as he asked, devoured him with a hunger she didn’t understand but yet did, even knew somehow. And the way he reacted, harsh growling, hair pulling, aggressive pumping, sent desire erupting anew through her. The power she had with this took her immediately and she wielded it with every ounce of inexperience and haste.
Ruin began to pace her, hands gripping her head with deep hissing mixed with groans as he moved in and out of her mouth. Soon it was all Sam knew and cared about, making him feel good, hearing him want her, need her…she’d never felt anything so gratifying and fulfilling and she hoped he knew that, hoped he knew that the desperate moans of satisfaction were for him, all for him.
“Samantha, Samantha,” he gasped, moving faster, then slower, then faster.
She answered back with a long moan, her hand sliding up his hard body, making her hungrier, and him.
He hissed and grunted, pushing deeper into her mouth. The feel of him hitting at the back of her throat set her on fire and she suddenly needed to feel it, feel him losing control and needing to bury himself deeper inside her. She wanted him deep inside her, in every way. She did, oh God she did.
He roared and pulled out of her mouth and spun around, both his hands holding his head.
She stared at the wall of glorious muscle and tattoos covering his back, confusion making her tremble. Immediately fear seized her at feeling it. She’d fallen for him. Fallen hard without even realizing. No, she’d felt it while it was happening and had never felt anything so amazing and he’d shared the feeling, she was sure of it, he was right there with her, feeling it and falling too. And now the vulnerability that this presented shot panic through her.
“W-what…” She yanked at the bed covers and pulled them to her. “Did I… do it wrong?” The need for the problem to be simple technique made her tremble.
“It’s all wrong,” he growled. “I can’t do this.”
Intense pain gripped her chest until she gasped as he put his pants back on. “W-what do you mean?” She pulled the covers tighter to her, that feeling of being beautiful and free, now replaced with naked and ugly. “I don’t…I don’t really get…”
“No you don’t,” he muttered. “You don’t get it. That’s your problem, you don’t fucking get it.” He turned to her and pointed. “You are not going to trample everything that means something to me with your fucking logistics, I don’t care how easy it is for you!”
She watched him storm out, numbness setting in quickly as his words burned through her mind and heart, becoming more painful with each repeat. I will not let you trample everything that means something to me… I will not let you trample what means something to me… I will not let you trample meaningful things… I will not be with a tramp who isn’t meaningful. You are a tramp. You are not important.
Sam didn’t know how long she laid in bed before the pain inside hardened into a full body armor of first degree premeditated murder. With Ruin’s name engraved all over it.
She dressed in her standard manly clothes, got her combat boots on and laced them up when a knock sounded at the door.
“What,” she ordered.
“We need you outside,” Ruin said. “A meeting of some kind with The Chasm Guardian and two Readers.”
“Be right there,” she muttered. “Motherfucker, I’ll be right there.”
She tightened the bra-band around her chest until it felt like a cozy breastplate, wondering what a Chasm Guardian was and Readers. She pulled on her black cap, making her ensemble entirely black. Like Scriber. Yeah. She liked that.
Sam stalked out onto the porch where Scriber, a tall man with white hair and a long black leather coat stood next to two other tall men that reminded her of thugs only with long, Barbie blonde hair. They made her nervous, reminded her too much of that Valkrin man.
“There she is,” Scriber said to the older looking guy.
But Sam had her eyes on Ruin. Ruin standing next to Scriber. Not acknowledging her. Well that was just rude, wasn’t it?
Sam hopped off the porch and stood before Ruin. She’d give him one chance to show her he wasn’t a complete bastard. Just one look.
He finally met her gaze and what she saw there sent her fist plowing into his smirk. His head snapped but not enough for her so she hit him a second time, sending him stumbling in reverse. That felt better. She pursued and hit him a third time.
He finally put both hands up, glaring at her in shock while Sam shook her fist. “I did warn you, didn’t I? Yes I did.” She pointed at him. “I decided to be merciful since we have company.”
She turned to the men, finding the man with the white hair staring in open mouthed, wide eyed shock. Scriber’s head was lowered but she saw the grin he fought. She hurried forward with a hand out to the older man. “Sam. Sam Jacobs, at your service.”
The man stared down at her hand, looked at Ruin, then looked at Scriber. “Is this what you call progress?” he said incredulous.
Scriber regarded the man. “At the last update, yes.”
“That was thirty minutes ago.”
“Well, I’d wager it’s not her fault.”
“Of course you would,” Ruin barked. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Nothing we can’t work through.” Sam waved her hand.
“Well I sure as hell hope so,” Caliber said, looking at Ruin.
“Don’t you dare look at me,” Ruin warned, “I should kill you!”
“Look, son, I didn’t kill your wife,” he began.
“Don’t even say it, don’t lie to me.”
“You now I’m not lying,” the man said. “Now I have news.” That drew everybody’s attention and he looked at each of them. “Are we cloaked?” He looked at Scriber.