I nodded, cupping his face in my hands. There was no chance of that happening.
Fisting his cock with a few quick pumps, he lined up at my entrance again. I held my breath, my gaze locked on his face and the concentration between his brows.
I kissed him, deep and slow. Proving to him that I was ready. I’d wanted him so badly for so long.
Dean growled against my lips with a long, careful thrust. It was smoother this time, without the discomfort, but I still found myself panting at the sheer size of him.
“Fuck, look at you, honeybee,” he said. “Taking every inch of my cock like a good girl.”
A wrecked sound escaped me as Dean pulled out and thrust back in—deeper, circling and grinding his hips. My nails dug into his chest, scraping along skin and ink. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“Told you I’d ruin that pretty little pussy of yours for other men. You’re mine, Ruby. All mine.”
“Then leave your mark,” I said, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him close.
Dean’s gaze darkened. In an instant, his body language shifted, from patient and careful, to beast-like, prepared to stake his claim.
Tightening his fist in my hair, he buried his cock deep inside me, sweeping his tongue past my lips with a scorching kiss. I closed my eyes and surrendered to the euphoria of it all. His weight, pressing me into the mattress. The power and intensity in his straining muscles. And that cock, driving into me again and again.
We lost ourselves in each other—tangled limbs, grasping hands, grinding together in a frenzy of passion. My orgasm hovered within reach. Dean’s sloppy thrusts indicated he wouldn’t be far behind.
He wedged one hand between our sweat-slick bodies, licking a hot, wet stripe up my neck as he rubbed my clit.
“Fall apart for me, honeybee. I want to see how fucking beautiful you look when you come all over my cock and milk me dry.”
A sob of pleasure tore from my throat as I tipped over the edge. Dean rammed home with a final surge, growling in my ear. I wished we could stay like this forever—soaring and bright, drunk on each other.
Eventually, the high faded, and I burrowed into Dean’s shoulder, unwilling to let him go. My thighs felt sticky and my muscles were aching from so much exertion.
But it was well worth the wait.
Chapter eight
Titan
“So, what did you two do all day without me?” Barrett asked over dinner.
Ruby flicked a quick glance at me before grabbing her cup and gulping at her water.
“The bookstore, of course,” I said. Which seemed like the safest, neutral answer. “Ruby found a few romances that will keep her cozy and warm through the long, cold winter nights, I think.”
She coughed and thumped her chest, turning beet red. I chuckled and stabbed at my potatoes.
No pizza or wings tonight. Instead, Barrett had cooked up a proper, healthy meal when he came home from his shift at the fire station. Steak and potatoes, with a side of sauteed rosemary mushrooms and a crispy cobb salad. The man knew how to make a house a home, I’d give him that.
Barrett shook his head, cutting into his steak.
“Ruby’s taste in romantic literature has always been five-alarm-fire-spicy in the heat department. I try not to look too closely at what she reads.”
“It’s called living vicariously through fiction,” she countered, waving her fork in the air with a speared mushroom. “I would have thought you’d be happy that I’m content to read about these borderline psychopathic billionaires or criminal Russian bratvas instead of dating one.”
Barrett laughed softly.
“Believe me, I count my lucky stars every day for that. What else did you torture Dean with today? Did you take him to see the gingerbread house display at the town hall?”
Ruby avoided her father’s gaze, suddenly fascinated with her potatoes.
“I knew I was forgetting something! I’ll add that to the agenda for tomorrow.”
