Read Ruin Me for Free Online Page A

standing over me, staring down, chest rising and falling fast.
    I nod. He takes my hand and leads me to the next room. He clicks on a dim reading lamp beside his bed. I can smell him here. I sit on the worn goose down comforter and breathe him in. I stretch out on his mattress and he kneels between my legs again.
    “Still wanna watch?” he asks.
    I nod vigorously, eyes on his dick. He reaches down and tugs at my panties and I bring my legs to my chest and let him slide them all the way off. His dark eyes take me in as I spread my thighs beside his knees. He swallows. One of his hands wraps around his cock and the other inches slowly up my inner thigh, giving me plenty of time to tell him no. Fat fucking chance.
    He runs his knuckles over my lips and our moans blend together.
    “You’re so wet.”
    He dips his fingertips inside me and heat boils up through my cunt, tensing every muscle in my body. He gives me more, two big fingers, and he thrusts in time with his strokes, driving both of us insane for a few minutes.
    “You feel tight,” he mutters.
    I don’t doubt it. My pussy’s never been this hungry for anyone before and his cock’s so goddamn close. My palms are on his hips, on the dent where his thighs meet his ass. I tug at him. “Let me feel you. Just the tip.”
    He lowers, bracing himself on one strong arm. His other hand angles his cock and I feel the smooth, slick skin of his head slide up my lips and over my clit.
    I groan and my fingers curl, clawing his ribs.
    “God, Robin.” He traces my entrance, slow and cruel.
    Shit, it’d be so easy for him to just push in, fill me up, reclaim all the chances I wasted back when I could’ve had this.
    “Do you want me?” he asks, almost a whisper. There’s a cruel little gleam in his eye.
    I’m too ashamed to say the word so I just nod, teeth clenched.
    “Too bad.” His head slides up and down, up and down.
    “Patrick.”
    “Wish I could,” he says, taunting. Affected or not, his calm is impressive.
    “Patrick.”
    He pulls away. “Touch yourself.” He watches my fingers take over where his cock left off. He strokes himself, looking mean, just as I always fantasized.
    “Play with your clit,” he says. I do and he slips two fingers back inside me. “Think about me fucking you.”
    “I am.” I watch his cock, dark and heavy in his fist, I feel his fingers, slipping in and out, rough and deep. But not deep enough.
    “What did you think about?” he asks. “Back when we were close?”
    He means back when I visited him. Christ, what didn’t I think about? It was tough then, back before I understood that fearful feeling his body gave me. It never stopped me from fantasizing about him though.
    “It’s sort of fucked up,” I say, eyes still glued to his dick.
    “Tell me.”
    “I used to imagine that night.” Saying it makes my throat tight and I try to swallow the anxiety. “I thought about—after you beat the shit out of that guy—I thought about sucking you in the parking lot. Like, while he was still on the ground.” I feel my face color as I admit this. “I’d think about how you comforted me, and I’d imagine that while you were hugging me, I’d reach down and open your jeans and get you hard. And then I’d get on my knees on the asphalt while you sat on my hood, and I’d suck you off.”
    Patrick doesn’t reply, just keeps fucking me with his fingers, stroking his cock.
    “Say something or I’ll feel like a pervert,” I tell him.
    His words come out hoarse. “I wanna fuck you so bad, Robin.”
    Relief and arousal course through me, the heat and tightness flaring in my cunt. I watch his cock, dying to taste him. My lips feel swollen, aching to slide over his fat head and suck him and feel his hot come stream over my tongue.
    The pleasure tightens into a ball, humming against my fingers, mounting each time his fingers drive into me. I can smell his perspiration and his sex and the room feels surreal around us, a