Page 63 of Unlocking Ruin

“Do that again with your tongue.” His hands clasp the arms of the chair.

“You can hold me, fist my hair.”

His throat moves as he swallows. “You’re not ready for that side of me yet,” he gasps while thrusting his hips.

“You’re underestimating me,” I mutter, half annoyed. “If I’m yours, then show me what being yours feels like,” I challenge him.

His eyes darken, becoming wild, like a storm raging across an endless horizon. He seizes my hair, twisting it around his fist, guiding my head down as he thrusts his hips into my mouth. When I choke, he moans, craving the sensation of my throat tightening around him once more.

Reaching out, I sink my nails into his flexing thighs, making sure I leave a mark. I work him fast, then slow down. His chest glistens with sweat. He clutches the arms of the desk chair to the point that the stitching of the leather starts to come undone.

He’s close.

I enjoy the feeling of him claiming me. Owning me.

As I sink back down, I pull him into my mouth with force, even grazing my teeth over his tender flesh.

“Rylan!”

Why do I find the sound of my name on his lips so gratifying?

“Don’t edge me,” he warns as he bucks his hips.

“Who said anything about edging?” I purr. “I want to taste all of you, Steffen.” I work him until he yells my name as he climaxes. Every drop of him slides down my throat, and I don’t regret one thing.

It’s a relief to find someone who knows what good foreplay is. How many had I slept with who didn’t even know what my clit was?

Slowly withdrawing, I run my tongue over my lips. His blue eyes stare intently at me, as if I were a newly discovered species. I smirk as I stand, then I slide out from between him and the desk. He stays leaning back, drained of energy but glowing.

“That certainly worked up my appetite.” I push my hair back, feeling it slide along my back. “Got any junk food in this mansion?”

He throws his head back and laughs. Standing up and pulling on his sweatpants, he walks over to me. He leans in and kisses me passionately. I’m considering pushing him down on the floor and finishing what we started. I mean, technically, I haven’t broken my rule of one-night stands. We haven’t had sex yet.

Growl. Okay, I’ll feed you, you hangry bitch.

“Don’t get attached, Steffen.” With a laugh, I pull away from the kiss.

“Funny”—he smirks to himself as he walks to the door—“that sounded like you were trying to convince yourself.”

CHAPTER 14

Rylan

Steffen navigates his vast kitchen as if he were a master sailor.

Me? My legs are seasick, still recovering from that life-altering orgasm.

My mention of a cereal craving was followed by Steffen producing my favorite kind. If that’s not Grade-A stalker material, I don’t know what is.

Steffen grabs two bowls and a jug of milk. Why can’t I stop watching his hands, how his fingers curl around objects, bending them to his will?

I feel like I might collapse or sink to my knees and crawl to him. He’s too sophisticated to eat where he makes food, since there are no seats—not even a table or bar stool. Instead, I jump onto the counter and sit.

The kitchen is a chef’s dream, full of shiny steel and high-tech tools I don’t know how to use. The sheer number of knobs on the oven makes it seem like it could launch a spaceship or cause widespread destruction.

He watches me from his counter, then sets a bowl and spoon beside me. He smirks, as if I were a sauce simmering to his exact liking.

“Do you think I’m a whore?”