Page 53 of Vows of Ruin

When he comes up, lips slick, eyes blazing, I pull him to me, whispering. “I want you.”

“You’ve got me,” he says, voice rough and aching. “Every fucking piece.”

When he sinks into me, it’s not fast or desperate, it’s deep. Intentional. Worshipping. Every movement is a vow, every kiss a promise. His forehead rests against mine, our breaths tangling, and for the first time in what feels like days, I let go of everything outside this room.

Right now there’s no war. No Sebastian. No scars. Just him. Just me. And the fire we make together.

His mouth is on mine, his hands rough and devouring as they trail down my body, his rhythm is relentless and unforgiving, but then he pulls back just enough to look down at me. My eyes flutter shut.

“Eyes on me, Wrenley,” he growls, the dominance in his voice hitting me like a strike of lightning.

My lashes lift instantly, gaze locking with his. The look in his eyes is ferocious, unyielding. It’s the only thing anchoring me as the world starts to splinter apart beneath his touch.

“That’s my good girl,” he praises, voice thick with hunger and affection. “I want to watch you fall apart underneath me. All of it. Don’t you dare look away.”

His thrusts grow deeper, slower, grinding me just right, his pelvis brushing my clit with every movement. It’s devastating, the control he has, the way he knows my body like a map he memorized in secret.

“You’re the reason hell would open its doors for me.” He breathes against my throat. “Taking me so perfectly.”

My hands scramble for purchase, nails digging into his shoulders, sharp and desperate. I’m right there, right at the edge. “Don’t stop,” I say in a breathy moan. The moment he shifts just right, I fall.

I break with a gasp, shattering beneath him, my body pulsing and trembling in waves that seem to go on forever. My nails rake into his skin, drawing blood, and I swear I see stars. His name leaves my lips in a cry that echoes around us, “Liam, oh my god!”

He groans, low, guttural, wrecked, and then he’s following me over the edge, spilling inside me with a ferocity that borders on obscene. My name is a prayer on his lips.

He doesn’t pull out. Doesn’t even move away. He rolls us to the side, keeping me close, buried inside me like he doesn’t want to lose a single inch of connection. I’m draped over him, both of us breathless and trembling, and everything smells like sex, leather, and him.

He lets out a slow breath, a lazy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Well, that was new,” he says, his voice still hoarse. “I’ve never used a knife with anyone before.”

I giggle, nuzzling into his chest. “Me either… Well, not in a sexual way.”

He laughs, real and deep, his chest rising and falling beneath me. His hand finds my back, drawing small, aimless circles as the silence between us thickens, not with tension, but with something softer. Something warm and rare.

We lie there tangled together, still joined, still buzzing. The air around us has gone quiet and hazy, the rush giving way to something deeper. Something sacred. Somewhere between the warmth of his arms and the fading burn of pleasure, we fall asleep.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Reaper

The sun has started to shine through the blinds when I hear a knock at the door, low and cautious.

Wrenley doesn’t stir. She’s still tucked against my chest, one of her thighs thrown over mine, her cheek warm against my skin. I brush a hand down her back with a quiet, “Yeah?”

The door creaks open, and Max steps inside, his hair a tousled mess, a mug of coffee in one hand, with the amusement already written across his face.

“Morning,” he says, then glances down and freezes. His eyes land on the dagger still on the floor, then drift to the shredded remains of the black leather lingerie next to it.

“Umm.” I sit up a little, dragging the sheet higher over my waist. “Morning.”

Max blinks, then nods slowly. “I know we said no comparing, but… this I have to hear.”

Wrenley shifts against me, making a sleepy little sound as her eyes blink open. Her gaze flicks to Max, then down to the floor.

“Oh,” she giggles, rubbing one eye. “That confused him… so he cut it off me.”

Max raises a brow, glancing between us like he’s both impressed and mildly horrified. “Nice. I might have to try that one.” He says with a wink at Wrenley.