Page 13 of Claimed By Ruin

I should have stayed quiet, shouldn’t have given him the gift of my emotions. “I fucking hate you.” The words came out a low hiss, barely audible over the shower.

But he heard them.

And he smiled.

Then he kissed me, his lips warm and firm yet gentle against mine.

And then my face was pressed against the cold shower tiles as Jack prodded at my pussy with the broad head of his cock.

I opened for him on instinct, my thighs widening before I processed the thought.

He huffed a little laugh in my ear.

“Fuck you, Jac⁠—”

My words fell into a strangled moan as he thrust inside me so hard my face smashed against the tile.

He gripped my hips and shifted me, holding me open as he pummeled my pussy like he hated me as much as I hated him.

More even.

I was loose from earlier, a good thing too because Jack fucked me like he wanted to rip me in half. I tried to turn my head but was stilled by his hand pressing my face against the shower stall.

I couldn’t move, wouldn’t speak, so I took what he gave me—took what I dreamed of in the deep dark—and was thankful that the shower hid my tears.

Bit my lip to hold back my moans. It worked too, until Jack tightened his grip, and drove into me with hard, sharp thrusts sent me hurtling towards a climax like I hadn’t already come twice.

“Oh God…”

Jack licked the shell of my ear. “You like it?” he said, each word followed by a sharp thrust that made me see stars.

I said nothing and just focused on the feeling, the water pelting over me, colder now, not that I cared. Jack’s hard body, behind me, over me, inside me. The way my pussy trembled around him, the delicious tickle of his sac smacking my clit with every rock of his hips.

The—

Nothing.

I blinked, looking back at him, disoriented by how empty I felt.

His face was inches from mine, his eyes blazing. With anger, yes, but with something else. Something I didn’t have the will to try to interpret.

I looked away, my neck burning with the shame of it, but the shame I could handle. Looking at him too much longer, though…

“What was that, Jack?” I whispered, brows knitted, face pressed against the shower wall again like it protected me.

Like anything could.

He laughed, the low rumble in his chest vibrating through my body. “Not so nice is it?”

I huffed, rolled my eyes. “So what, now I’m supposed to beg for your cock, beg you to let me come?”

“I don’t give a fuck if you beg, and I don’t give a fuck if you come. I was your fuck toy. Now you’re mine.”

His next thrust pushed the air out of my lungs. The next three after had me gripping the cold, slick wall, searching for any purchase. I reached for something, for anything, to steady me in Jack’s onslaught. But there was only him. I held his forearm, feeling the play of muscles under my palm as he fucked me, the sounds of the water drowned out by his deep groans and the lewd smack of his balls against my ass.

His forearm tightened, and he came on a strangled-out moan, his stone-solid cock pulsing inside me as he emptied what felt like gallons of cum. I slammed my eyes shut, trying to push away the sensation, but his breath at my neck, his forearm in my grip, his cum splashing my cervix sent me over the edge.

I clamped down on him, biting my lip until I tasted blood as I rode out the orgasm.