Read Online Ruin Me by Cara McKenna - Free Book Online Page A

head.
    “What do you want, Robin?” He doesn’t meet my eyes when he asks this—he stares at the sliver of tile between our two pairs of feet, looking hypnotized.
    Be a horrible person with me , I think. So I don’t have to be horrible alone. “Let’s go to the living room,” I say.
    He holds his ground so I slip away from him sideways and walk into the next room. It’s cold in his house and my body’s showing it—not just ooh-sexy taut nipples, but less attractive evidence too, like the goose bumps and tiny hairs rising all over my chilly, mottled skin. I don’t feel sexy either, but it doesn’t matter. I feel something else, something stronger and totally removed from my ego.
    Patrick follows eventually, slowly, as if each step is another chance to change his mind. By the time he reaches where I’m sitting on his couch his expression’s changed. The pain has turned to hunger, the guilt to wickedness. Each button he undoes on his shirt is another increment of time, another squandered opportunity to stop. He drops it off his obscenely strong shoulders and peels his undershirt up and over his head, giving me a front row view of that chest, that stomach. I watch his hands undo his belt, wishing he’d use it bind my wrists together, to tie me up and make me a victim so when he fucks me, it’s not my fault. But he doesn’t. His jeans slip to the ground and he kicks them away along with his socks and stands before me in gray shorts, that delicious bulge filling them. Certain things make sense in this moment, such as pheromones, and the fact that humans are animals, and the idea of mating as a form of biological insanity.
    “Come here,” I say.
    He gets onto the couch, knees between mine, and suddenly we’re teenagers—frantic, graceless near-naked bodies, groping and rubbing and grasping and panting. His cock feels sinful, pressing between my legs. I want him to rip through our two pairs of underwear and be inside me, pumping. I don’t even care if I come—I just want this bestial version of Patrick to fuck me senseless. I want bruises tomorrow. I want scratches and sprains and bite marks, enough to make Jay leave me and absolve me of my hard decisions and the power I don’t deserve to have over either of these men.
    I shove Patrick’s shoulders, force his body away enough that I can cup him. He’s already swollen and hot and heavy, growing even harder as I fondle him.
    He leans back on his haunches, watching. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”
    “About what?” I ask, making the strokes tight and long.
    “All the stuff we did on Friday. And everything we’re not allowed to.”
    I nod. “I’ve thought about it too. About how you looked when you fucked my fists in your bed.” I see that look now, in his face and those heavy-lidded eyes, in the strained muscles of his body. I feel it in the pulse of his dick against my palm. “Let me suck you, Patrick. Please.”
    His voice turns scratchy and shallow. “God, I want you so bad.”
    “How do you want me?” I ask, pulling his shorts down to expose every decadent inch. I grip his cock, running my fist up and down, up and down. I push at his hard stomach until he takes the hint and lies back at the other end of the couch, letting me kneel between his spread thighs.
    He watches my hand. “Rough, from behind,” he finally says, flooding my overheated brain with every guilty mental image I entertained when Jay fucked me that way.
    I lean in and reward his answer with a lap across his slit. I taste his sex as his groan fills my ears, licking until he’s rock-hard, throbbing in my hand. “Tell me more.”
    “I’ll go down on you first, ‘til you’re sopping wet,” he promises. I feel his palm, hot on my cheek. I slip his fat head between my lips, sucking as I swirl my tongue over the smooth skin. I taste his excitement, that salty, sinful sex flavor coming in little bursts as his cock tells me how ready he is. His fingers tangle and twitch in