Chapter 6
Ruby
The cabin is warm in a way the safe house never was. The air between us is tight, charged, and I can hear my own heartbeat like it’s a second voice in the room.
I force a breath in. “I meant it,” I whisper.
His eyes flick to my mouth, then back to my eyes, like he refuses to let me hide behind heat.
“You’ve been through hell,” he says, voice rough. “You don’t owe me anything.”
“I’m not paying you,” I say, and my voice shakes anyway. “I’m choosing you.”
His jaw flexes hard. He looks away for half a second, like he’s trying to drag himself back behind a line.
I reach down and slip my shoes off, setting them by the door like it’s a normal thing to do, like my hands aren’t trembling. Sin does the same, toeing his boots off with a quiet scrape on the wood.
The sound grounds me.
For a breath, we just stand there, too close, too aware.
Sin’s voice drops, stripped of its hard edges. “I need you to understand something.”
My throat tightens. “Okay.”
“I grew up in foster homes,” he says, like he’s stating a fact that never deserved to hurt but did anyway. “You learn early what people take. You learn how fast kindness turns into a hook.”
My chest aches. I don’t speak. I don’t move.
He keeps going, eyes on the floor like he’s pulling this out of somewhere he keeps buried. “I thought I loved someone once. I met her while I was working for her dad at a junkyard. I believed in it. Believed in her.”
His fingers flex once at his side.
“I enlisted,” he says, voice tight. “Wanted to do something that mattered. Wanted to be more than what the foster system handed me. She told me she couldn’t wait. Married someone else three months later.”
The words land heavy in the room between us.
Sin lifts his gaze to mine, and the intensity there makes my skin prickle.
“So I stopped,” he says. “Stopped wanting. Stopped trusting. Stopped believing it was worth it.”
My heart pounds.
“And then you looked at me in that room,” he murmurs, “and it felt like something inside me snapped awake.”
My breath catches.
“It means something to me,” he says, voice low and rough. “This. You. What I feel when you’re near.”
My chest tightens so hard it hurts.
Sin steps closer, slow, like he’s giving me every chance to change my mind.
His hand slides to my waist, then stops there, like he’s testing his own control.
“You sure?” he asks again, voice low. “Tell me you’re sure.”
I tip my chin up. “I’m sure.”
His eyes darken. He swallows once, and it looks like it hurts.
Then he guides me to the couch.
It’s worn, dark leather, the kind that creaks when you move. The kind that holds the shape of a man’s life.
I sink down, and Sin follows, sitting close enough that our thighs almost touch, then stopping like he can’t let himself close that last inch without permission.
I turn toward him. “Sin.”
His gaze locks on mine. “Yeah.”
I reach for him first. My fingers slide into his cut, curling over the patch like it’s an anchor. Like it’s proof he’s real, and this is real, and I’m here.
His breath goes rough.
“Ruby,” he warns, and it’s the softest warning in the world.
I lean in anyway.
This kiss is slower. Deeper. Less like fire and more like sinking.
His hand cups the back of my head, gentle and guiding, and then he pulls away just enough to look at me again.
“Say it,” he murmurs. “Say you want this.”
My lips are swollen. My cheeks are hot. My voice comes out honest.
“I want you,” I whisper. “I want you to be my first.”
Sin closes his eyes for a second like he’s bracing for impact.
When he opens them, he looks at me like I’m the only thing in this world.
He kisses me again, and his other hand slides down my arm to my wrist, lacing our fingers together, holding me like I’m something precious.
I melt into him, breath hitching, and the world narrows to the couch, his mouth, and the steady way he keeps stopping to make sure I’m still choosing.
When he finally breaks the kiss, his forehead presses to mine.
“Tell me to stop,” he says, voice ragged.
I shake my head, barely.
Sin’s mouth brushes my cheek, then my jaw, pausing near my ear.
His hand slides to the hem of my hoodie, fingers curling there, waiting. Asking.
I nod once, small.
He draws it up slowly, careful, like he’s unwrapping something sacred instead of taking. My arms lift without thinking, letting him pull it over my head. The cool air kisses my skin and I shiver.
Sin’s gaze drops, then lifts back to my eyes, like he refuses to make me feel watched instead of wanted.
My fingers find the edge of his cut, push it off his shoulders, then his shirt, revealing muscles, tattoos, and scars. I tug him closer until his heat surrounds me.
He makes a low sound that goes straight through me.
Then his mouth finds mine again, and his hands move with a patience that feels like devotion.
The couch creaks.
My pulse races.
His voice is rough against my lips. “Still sure?”
“Yes,” I breathe.
“Say it,” he murmurs.
“I’m sure.”
His hands slide lower, pulling me closer, and the world goes soft at the edges. All I can focus on is the heat radiating from his body.
His fingers hook into the waistband of my sweats, pausing there as if to give me one last chance to pull back.
My heart thunders in my chest, but I lift my hips just enough, a silent, trembling affirmation.
He tugs them down slowly, the soft fabric dragging over my skin, taking my panties with it in one motion, leaving me fully exposed.
Sin's eyes darken, drinking me in. He shifts back on his knees, his own arousal obvious in the tight bulge straining against his jeans, the denim stretched taut over his hips.
With a low, rumbling sound from deep in his chest, he unbuttons them, the metallic snick echoing in the quiet room. He shoves the zipper down, peeling off his jeans along with his briefs.
His cock springs out, thick and heavy, veins pulsing along its length, the broad head flushed deep red and already leaking a bead of precum.
It throbs visibly, standing proud from the nest of dark hair at its base, and I can't tear my eyes away, a mix of awe and nervous anticipation swirling in my gut.
Sin doesn't push, though; he never does.
Instead, he leans in, his broad shoulders parting my thighs wider, settling between them. His hands stroke up my legs, callused palms rough against my smooth skin, sending sparks racing up my spine.
“You're beautiful,” he murmurs, voice rough. “Every inch of you. Let me show you how much I want this. How much I want you.”
His words wrap around me like a caress, melting the last of my hesitations.
“Still with me, sweetheart?” he asks, his breath hot against my inner thigh, lips brushing the sensitive skin there in a feather-light kiss that makes me gasp.
“Yes,” I whisper, my voice breathy, hands clenching the worn leather of the couch cushions beneath me. “I'm with you. Always.”
That seems to undo him a little. His eyes hood with desire, and he lowers his head, his mouth hovering just above my pussy.
The first touch is gentle, a soft press of his lips to my outer folds like he's savoring a forbidden fruit. Then his tongue darts out, parting me with a slow lick that traces from my entrance up to my clit.
I arch off the couch with a sharp cry, the sensation electric, unlike anything I've ever imagined.
He groans against me, the vibration humming through my nerves, and circles my swollen clit with the flat of his tongue, teasing it with gentle laps before sucking it between his lips.
The pull is exquisite, a sweet suction that has my hips bucking involuntarily, chasing more.
His stubble rasps against my thighs, a delicious scrape that grounds the pleasure in something real, tangible.
One large hand anchors my hip, fingers splaying wide to hold me steady, while the other trails up my inner thigh, a single thick finger circling my entrance, coating itself in my slickness.
“So wet for me already,” he breathes, the words muffled against my skin, sending a fresh wave of heat flooding through me. “Gonna make you feel so good, sweetheart. Relax and let me in.”
I nod frantically, biting my lip as he presses that finger inside, shallow at first, just the tip breaching my tight walls.
The stretch is new, a faint burn that quickly blooms into warmth as he curls it, stroking a hidden spot deep within that makes my toes curl and stars dance behind my closed eyelids.
His mouth returns to my clit, flicking it with quick, precise strokes of his tongue while he pumps his finger slowly, in and out, letting me adjust to the intrusion.
My breaths come in pants, the coil of tension winding tighter with every swirl, every thrust.
“God, you taste like heaven,” he murmurs, pulling back just enough to meet my gaze, his chin glistening with my arousal, lips swollen and shiny.
He dives back in, adding a second finger now, scissoring them gently to stretch me further, preparing me for what's to come.
The fullness is intense, my pussy clenching around him, but the pleasure overrides any discomfort, his tongue lashing relentlessly at my clit, sucking harder, drawing me closer to the edge.
My hands find his hair, threading through the dark strands, tugging lightly as my hips rock against his face, grinding into his mouth with abandon.
The pressure builds, a tidal wave cresting, until it shatters over me. My pussy spasms around his fingers, waves of bliss crashing through me as I come with a loud moan.
He doesn't stop, lapping at me through it, prolonging the tremors until I'm a boneless, quivering mess.
Sin finally eases back, his fingers slipping free with a slick pop, leaving me achingly empty.
He rises over me, caging me in with his arms, his cock nudging insistently at my soaked entrance, the hot, blunt tip sliding through my folds.
His eyes lock on mine, stormy with need but softened by something deeper—love, maybe, or the promise of it.
“Breathe with me,” he says, forehead pressing to mine. “Tell me if it's too much. I want this to be perfect for you—for us.”
I reach up, cupping his face, thumbs tracing the sharp line of his jaw.
“It's already perfect,” I whisper, voice thick with emotion. “Because it's you.”
His expression fractures for a moment, raw vulnerability flashing before he kisses me deeply, sharing the taste of myself on his tongue, making the moment even more intimate, more ours.
With a shared breath, he pushes forward, the head of his cock breaching me slowly, stretching my walls inch by agonizing inch.
The burn is sharper now, fuller, but he stills immediately, buried only halfway, his body trembling with the effort of restraint.
“Easy, love,” he soothes, lips peppering kisses along my jaw, my neck, nuzzling into the crook of my shoulder. “You're doing so good. So tight, so perfect around me. Just breathe, I've got you.”
I do, inhaling shakily as the discomfort fades into a deep, throbbing ache of fullness.
My legs wrap around his waist, heels digging into his back, urging him deeper.
He slides the rest of the way in with a guttural groan, bottoming out, his hips flush against mine, cock pulsing hot and hard inside me.
We stay like that for endless heartbeats, connected completely, his weight a grounding force as sweat beads on his brow.
“You feel incredible, Ruby,” he rasps, nipping at my earlobe. “Like you were made for me. My beautiful girl, taking me so beautifully.”
The words ignite something fierce in me, and I rock my hips experimentally, drawing a hiss from him.
That's his cue. He starts moving, shallow rolls at first, pulling out just a little before sinking back in, letting my body adjust to the rhythm.
Each thrust drags his thick cock along my sensitive walls. His pace quickens gradually, deeper now, the wet sounds filling the cabin, mingling with his low moans and my breathy gasps.
One hand braces beside my head, the other slides between us, thumb finding my clit and rubbing firm circles that make me keen, arching into him.
Our bodies move in sync, sweat-slick skin sliding together, my nails raking down his back, leaving red trails that spur him on.
He pushes into me harder, hips snapping with controlled power, cock hitting that spot inside me over and over until I'm spiraling, the tension coiling unbearably tight.
“Come for me again,” he demands softly, voice wrecked with desire. “Let me feel you, sweetheart. Milk my cock, show me how much you love this.”
His words tip me over, my pussy clamping down around him as ecstasy rips through me, sharper and more intense than before. I cry out his name, body convulsing, and it's enough to shatter his control.
With a final, deep thrust, he buries himself to the hilt, cock swelling as he comes, hot spurts of cum flooding me, marking me from the inside out.
He grinds against me through it, prolonging our shared release, until we're both spent, collapsing in a tangle of limbs.
Sin doesn't pull out right away, staying seated deep inside me as our breaths even out, his arms wrapping around me protectively.
“You're mine now. So brave, so strong. I could stay like this forever.”
The truth is that I could stay like this forever too.