11. All The Ruin （Hattie）
ALL THE RUIN (HATTIE)
E verything is happening too fast, but also not fast enough.
One minute, I’m being dressed by a bunch of brilliant women moving like speed demons who compliment me on my future husband and how beautiful I look, all while they’re fussing over me in the mirror and ignoring every flaw.
The next, Ethan’s hands are on me.
Lightning swift, possessive, peeling the gorgeous dress away and devouring my mouth with pure intoxication.
Holy hell.
I can’t think straight to save my life.
Some dormant part of my brain flashes, warning we should stop, but I don’t want to.
Let’s be real—no part of me wants to.
He nips my bottom lip, and when I lean back to look at him, his eyes are blue dusk lit by fire, his red mouth parted and breathing too fast.
Animal.
Ethan Blackthorn gazes down at me like the hungry wolf he is, a creature who’s carried this hunger around for ages and now he’s staring at a meal long denied.
The crazy thought makes me tremble.
His eyes dip to my bare chest, my nipples pebbling under his inspection.
There’s a heavy ache between my legs, a dampness, an agony I’m not used to.
I’m no virgin and I’ve been with a couple guys before, but it’s been boring and predictable.
They kiss me. We fondle a bit, and then we head into my room where we have basic Tab A in Slot B sex and that’s pretty much the end.
Maybe we’ll see each other a few more times.
Usually, they ghost, and I don’t even feel enough for them to be pissed.
When it’s over, I don’t miss them or their lackluster touch.
They scratched an itch. They supported a moment.
With Ethan, it’s different.
This wild man, a fantasy come true, a comet streaking into my world with a tail of dangerous emotions.
“Fuck, Hattie,” he rasps, grabbing my breast with a roughness that makes me tingle.
More heat flares in my veins.
“Even better than I imagined.” He rubs his thumb over my nipple.
Pleasure zings straight to my core.
I press my legs together to keep from combusting on the spot, my panties so soaked it’s indecent.
It’s been so, so long since I’ve really wanted anyone.
I don’t even know what to do with it.
Ethan has a better idea, though. He bends his head and flicks his tongue over my nipple.
Hot, wet, sticky heat.
It slices through me, the intimacy and the hum in my veins.
I have to bite back a gasp so sharp it’s shameful.
I reach up, my fingers weaving through his hair.
Yes, this .
With his eyes gone feral, he places two big hands on my waist and looks down past my breasts for the first time, catching sight of my dark green lacy panties.
His eyes darken.
His breath catches in his throat on a curse.
Crazy that I did that.
Me .
The sugar rush blanks out my brain.
It’s enough for me to drag his mouth back to mine.
His fingers go lower, roaming down my rib cage, his hands calloused from his time in the Army.
Something about that roughness and the force in his skin makes me liquid.
There are a thousand reasons why we shouldn’t do this, but I can’t think of a single one.
He wastes no time as he picks me up, carrying me to the bed.
I wrap my legs around his waist, surprised he doesn’t struggle with me when I’m not the lightest girl.
From this angle, I can feel his erection, massive and insistent.
He’s harder than granite already.
For me.
Oh my God, he wants me.
And yes, on the beach I felt his erection, too, but that was different.
That was a spontaneous whoopsie and we still had the good sense to stop before it went too far.
Tonight, there’s no chance that happens.
The way he grunts when he feels me shifting against his cock says the moon colliding with the Earth couldn’t halt this.
Nothing will.
Certainly not any worries about being too careful as he drops me down on the bed and hooks his fingers inside my panties.
With his nostrils flared, he rips them down, skimming over my legs before he tosses them aside.
Now, I’m truly naked.
Naked in front of Ethan Blackthorn.
Not something I ever thought I’d be until recently. Until he filled my head with electric fantasies after the kiss to end all kisses.
And he devours me with a glance.
God, there’s so much night in his eyes I worry I’ll keep falling—falling, drowning, losing myself.
Will I ever stop?
There’s no blue left except for this midnight shadow, so dark it’s almost menacing.
The cool air kisses between my legs, and I close them so he can’t see everything, suddenly self-conscious.
But when he sees me hiding, he takes my knees, pulling them open.
“Everything, Pages,” he commands with a gruffness that zips up my spine. “Show me everything.”
Oh, I’m painfully aware of my imperfections.
From this angle, my ample boobs slump and there’s a crease in my belly from the way my thighs are propped up.
A dozen good reasons to hate my body come flooding back, especially when I remember who’s feasting with his eyes.
Ethan, he’s been with tons of women, and I bet they’re all model-perfect.
Beautiful.
Flawless.
Either naturally amazing or airbrushed by expert stylists and pruned by surgeons in ways I never will be.
My thighs have cellulite.
I’ve never been able to lose that extra ring around my lower belly.
And my skin? Almost untannable after a lifetime in Maine and the worst British genes. Here, too much fun in the sun makes me skip right past the golden-brown tan and throws me straight into lobster-worthy sunburns.
“Hattie, look at me,” he whispers.
He isn’t moving now, even though his wide chest is heaving.
I swallow thickly.
I suck in a slow, steadying breath because—
Well, I’m scared of what I’m going to see.
Frustration clashes with the desire in his gaze, and the sight of it makes my toes curl.
“Whatever you’re thinking about yourself right now, stop.” His hand on my knee slides over, tracing my inner thigh. “Be in the moment with me. Listen and believe when I tell you I want you. ”
Every word cuts like a flaming sword.
And it’s hard to ignore the truth behind his words with the large, pulsing bulge in his pants.
He leans over, his eyes still boring into mine.
“Deal? Do we have one?” His lips are soft as he ghosts them over my jaw. “You know better than this. You’re too damn smart. You’re not going to think you’re anything less than gorgeous before I fuck your brains out,” he murmurs against my skin, his teeth grazing my throat.
I shudder.
…does he hear himself?
Does he understand he’s killing me right now?
“Pages, talk to me,” he demands.
“O-okay. Yes,” I stammer, sighing as his kisses take full control. “Show me how much you want me.”
The challenge ignites his eyes.
He smiles as he unbuttons his shirt.
Not slowly, but with real deliberation, like he knows that every revealed inch of skin makes my mouth dry.
He’ll never know my struggles—and that’s what makes this so intense, a man with such confidence in his looks ordering me to sprout some with mine.
He’s supremely chiseled, boasting rigid, defined muscles I thought were myths until I saw them in real life.
A very smug, very male, very satisfied look shines on his face as he watches me bite my lip and blush.
Please tell me I’m not drooling.
But every girl has this kind of fever dream at least once in her life, I think?
Wanting a man like him—this gorgeous beast —getting naked and growly in front of you.
But it’s actually happening.
That’s what’s so hard for my brain to accept.
When he tugs down his pants and boxers, letting his cock spring free, it’s like my own personal fantasy coming to life.
Yes, he’s punishing.
Girthy and angry, this hammer of pulsing veins, made for judgment.
There’s a tiny bead of moisture on the end of his cock.
Before I overthink it, I push myself forward, grab him, and lick it off, inhaling his scent as I press him against my face.
He groans like a storm.
Then his hand comes down, fisting my hair like rope.
“Fuck, little Hattie, you should wear your glasses for this.” His voice grates, knowing I took them off for the big dress parade. “If I get full sexy librarian sucking my cock, you should look the part.”
My pussy throbs as I get up and find my glasses on his nightstand, then quickly walk back over.
No hesitation.
I obey the demands of his greedy hands when they find my hair again, urging my mouth to engulf him.
Yes, he’s flipping huge.
Yes, I need a hot second to adjust, and the pressure on the back of my head eases as I fight to accept his size, his width, his heat.
“That’s fucking right,” he whispers when I move again, taking him deeper. “That’s it. Good girl.”
Oh.
The unexpected praise sends fresh heat spiraling through me.
I adjust on the bed, my legs shifting open automatically.
I’m not expecting his hand there a few seconds later, running his fingers through my slit, hungry and wild.
“Damn, woman.” He rubs me again, tracing lazy circles with his fingertips. “You’re so wet for me to fuck your pussy.”
I moan my agreement, letting my eyes flutter shut.
“Do you know how divine you look with my cock in your mouth?”
Not a clue.
But I don’t dare disagree.
This is unbearably hot.
I clench around his fingers as he pushes in deeper, stroking in and out, faster and hungrier with every thrust.
My body is so ready, and it’s a good thing, too.
Because everything happens quickly.
“Fuck!” he curses again, easing me into a rhythm as his pace intensifies, crooking his fingers against the sensitive spot in my inner walls until I see stars.
I moan around him as he thrusts in my mouth, giving a low groan from his chest.
Ethan Blackthorn feels this good thanks to me .
One day, I might actually stop thinking about him with his full name, but that’s not right now.
This moment is too magical, too much not to marvel at the fact that it’s him.
My bully, my beast, and now my destroyer in such different ways.
If I ever had a clue how he could make me feel before, I wouldn’t have been so quick to hate him.
Honestly, I haven’t hated him for a good while now.
Not since we reconnected.