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

my hair, wanting to force me closer but resisting the impulse. I slide him out a moment and meet his eyes.
    “I love your cock.”
    His lips part and his cheeks flush, his eyes narrow and a darkness passes over his face. “I need to fuck you, Robin. I feel like I’m going crazy.”
    I take half his length into my mouth, luxuriating, memorizing, torturing. I cup and squeeze his balls as the other hand strokes him. Part of me wants to make him so insane that he pushes me back onto the couch and takes me, no permission requested or tendered, too fast and too forceful to allow a protest. Then, us. Patrick’s body pushing mine into the cushions, this gorgeous dick taking what it needs. That deep voice, wild and mean, all that damp skin and hard muscle pressed against my bare body. There’s a cloud in my skull, making everything hazy, the way it feels when you stand up too quick from a hot bath. I realize I’m moaning with his cock in my mouth.
    “Suck it,” he says. “Suck me, Robin.”
    I stroke him harder, moan louder.
    “Suck me like you wanted to that night.”
    I do. Just thinking about it makes me feel ferocious—fierce and worshipful, needy and thirsty and utterly animalistic. Patrick’s hands turn insistent, palms cupping the back of my head, not forcing but urging. Begging. I take him as deep as I comfortably can, making up the rest with my fist, now slick with spit.
    “God, yeah.” His fingers are trembling in my hair, arms tugging, matching the thrusts I’m offering. “Suck me, Robin.”
    I slip him from my lips a moment and catch his eyes. “You’re so big, Patrick.”
    He groans when my mouth returns. “Is that what you’ve been needing, Robin? A big cock?”
    “No,” I say, and lap at him. “It’s you. I need you.”
    “I wanna know everything you’ve been dying to do with me.” His hands leave my head and suddenly he’s pushing me away, back to my end of the couch. I recline and Patrick gets on his knees on the floor, yanking my panties down my thighs and calves, slinging one of my legs over his shoulder and propping the other against the back cushions, spreading me wide.
    He brings his face close, so close I feel his breath on my pussy when he speaks. “Tell me everything you think about.” His tongue laps, slow and deep, and the sensation zings through me, making my legs jerk.
    “Oh fuck.”
    “Tell me,” he whispers again.
    “I think about you when he fucks me from behind,” I say.
    Patrick’s tongue flicks my clit, sharpening my shame with a flash of pleasure.
    “I think about you and I tell him harder and faster and I have to bite the pillow sometimes, to keep from screaming your name.”
    “You think I’ll be hard and fast?” he asks between licks.
    “Yeah. I need you to be rough. You’re so big—your body is. I want to feel like you’re…like you’re owning me.”
    His fingertips tease my lips, sliding up and down my slit, threatening.
    “God, Patrick.”
    “You belong to someone else,” he whispers. “But you fantasize that it’s me that owns you.” His fingers penetrate, shallow.
    “Yes.”
    I feel more—three fingers now, to the second knuckle. “Tell me how I take you in your fantasies.”
    “Rough,” I say again. “And so deep.”
    His fingers drive into me as his lips suckle my clit.
    “And I imagine you being greedy and fast and mean. And that your hands are on my hips when you take me from behind or if I’m on top and you force my thrusts.” God, I love that idea—being controlled by a man so much stronger than me. “I want you to use me. And I want to see it when you come. I want you to make me watch when you shoot, or make me taste it.”
    Patrick makes dirty noises in time with his fucking fingers, grunts and hums and growls. His tongue sets a flickering rhythm against my clit, one that dissolves the muscles in my legs and makes my hands twitch and grasp at his hair. In my mind this man is usually selfish. I hardly ever imagined him