Victor - Her Ruthless Husband (Ruthless Triad 3)

And then, finally, the essential parts of them are exposed.

Their gazes lock, both of them shocked to be here so suddenly. But then, Victor pushes in, burying himself inside of her. And his rarely used voice joins hers in an aching groan.

It doesn’t take long for them to fall into a fire building rhythm. It’s as if this is their natural state, and Victor wonders how they managed to stay upright as long as they did in each other’s company.

He wants to go slower, to be more gentle with her. He promised himself he would this time. But it’s been almost three months…

It doesn’t matter that he used to go 364 days without being with her like this. That time of extraordinary willpower is gone. He’s rutting her like an animal, and he can’t even give her a few moments to adjust.

Fortunately, she doesn’t seem to require it.

Her nails rake his shoulders. “Victor! Oh God, Victor!”

He’s a starved beast, and her erotic cries only intensify the hunger inside of him. Even the whisper of her breath against his neck makes him crazed with desperate need. The animal sounds he was able to hold back when he thought he hated her fall from his mouth. He becomes a desperate bull, driving into her harder and harder with the sense that he can’t get in deep enough.

He wants this forever. He wants to be with her forever. He was only pretending to give her choices. Because obviously, there is no choice for her. He’s never going to fucking let her go.

“Victor! Victor!” She calls out the name of her possessor over and over again, her voice becoming breathless.

She was bucking beneath him before, rolling her hips to meet his every thrust. But suddenly, she stops, her entire body going taut, her nails digging into his back as her pussy spasms around his dick.

So wet, so hot… he wants to stay right here in this perfect moment. But she pulls him over the cliff with her. And they plummet together, the both of them helpless in the fall.

“I missed you. God help me. I missed you.” She says this with a little laugh afterward as they recover with him still buried inside of her. But to Victor, it feels like a surrender.

Normally, Victor doesn’t mind not being able to talk. Silence remains one of his best weapons. And besides, he always gets the communication job done one way or the other.

But at that moment, he hates his disability. Hates that he has to raise himself off of her to answer, “I missed you, too.”

With that confession, the sexual trance is broken. Yes, he could stay with Dawn here forever, but she deserves better than some garage mattress.

He pulls out and sits up. “Come inside the house with me. We can do this again. In a real bed.”

She laughs and sits up as well, smoothing her hands over her no-longer perfectly coiled curls.

He’s done better than usual. Only the blouse isn’t salvageable, and he hands her his T-shirt to put on over her bra to make up for that. But even when she’s fully dressed again, she looks exactly like what she is. Someone who’s just been thoroughly fucked.

He remembers thinking the same thing in Japan the first time they made love on a similarly low bed.

How glorious she’d looked in the Tokyo neon lights streaming through his windows. She was something he’d claimed as his. And though he understood that she had to go home to her parents, he hadn’t wanted her to leave his side ever.

Even back then, he’d had dark and dangerous thoughts about not letting her.

But he allowed her to leave that night.

How would things have turned out if he had kept her there? He wonders this now. What would’ve happened if he had convinced her to stay in his room while he went to the Red Diamond initiation downstairs far away from her sight. Would everything have gone differently if he had managed to keep her from seeing the other side of him? The monstrous one.

“Is that…? Oh my God, it is!”

Dawn’s question brings Victor out of his tortured thoughts. He looks up to find her walking toward the rack with all of Han’s bikes in it.

Or at least he should say most of the bikes belong to Han. One bike isn’t his, and it definitely stands out. It’s painted deep purple, sports neon-yellow wheels, and its top tube slopes at an angle as opposed to going straight across.

“Oh, my God. This is my bike,” she says with a happy shriek. “It looks brand-new. I can't believe you kept it. And took care of it!”

Victor walks over to stand on the other side of the rack, a little bemused at the sight of the bike he took from her so long ago.