Page 85 of Ruined

Dominic’s thumb pressed against my lips. My chest tightened, but my mouth opened before I could stop it. I sucked him in, letting himtakethat part of me, too.

I groaned around his thumb as he slammed into me. I squeezed my cock in my fist, stroking hard, pleasure searing through me. I couldn’t even find air as I fucked my fist.

“Come for me, Luca. Now.”

My body clenched around him as my orgasm tore through me. My cum hit the sheets in thick pulses, my hand shaking as I worked myself through it, the pleasure a white-hot crack of lightning that tore me apart.

Dominic groaned behind me, his grip bruising my hips. His thumb slipped from my mouth. His hips stilled, his cock twitching as he buried himself deep. His groans broke into something rough.

Dominic’s hands softened on my hips, fingers brushing against skin he’d gripped too hard, his touch suddenly tender. He pulled out slowly, but his presence stayed like he wasn’t ready to let go yet.

Neither was I.

What the fuck did that mean?

Dominic disappeared for a second, and I heard the sound of water running. He came back with towels, wiping me down.

“You alright?”

I turned toward him. “Yeah.”

His hand traced the ink scrawled across my chest. The warmth of his fingers sent a strange comfort rippling through me. Hefollowed the lines of Cyrillic over my heart, the letters bold and mocking.

“Tell me about this one.” He pressed his palm over my chest tattoo, his warmth sinking into me.

I swallowed hard. “It says,Property of the Bratva.”

Dominic’s jaw twitched. “Those bastards.”

“Yeah, well. It’s part of the deal. They take everything and make sure you never forget who owns you.”

“You don’t belong to them anymore.”

“It’ll always be there, reminding me of every fucked-up thing I did to survive.” I turned away, but his hand caught my chin.

His dark eyes bored into mine. “We’ll get rid of every last mark they put on you. You’re not theirs anymore.”

“And whose am I then?”

He smiled. “You’re mine.”

I didn’t respond, my throat too tight. His hand dropped to my waist, fingers brushing over the ink on my ribs.

“What about this one?” he asked.

“Loyal until death.”

His lips pressed into a line. “Loyalty’s not a bad thing, but you don’t owe it to people who treat you like shit.”

“I owed it to myself. To survive.”

“You did more than that. You fought and won.”

“Dumb luck,” I muttered. “If Santino hadn’t forced my hand, I wouldn’t be here right now. Who knows when I would’ve made a move.”

“Don’t downplay what you did.” He brushed the Cyrillic on my fingers, frowning. “What’s that mean?”

I sighed. “Russian fornobody.”