Chapter 8 Undo Me Like A Sacred Ruin #3
My body tenses, every muscle straining.
I try to hold back.
Try to last.
But she knows the signs—how the knot at my base starts to swell, how my breath goes ragged, how the head gets hypersensitive.
And she doesn’t stop.
Doesn’t even slow down.
I come undone.
There’s no warning.
No prelude.
Just a shudder that starts in my chest and rips down my spine, knot pulsing, cock jerking, and I can’t hear anything but the rushing blood in my ears as I spill down her throat.
She takes it all.
Doesn’t flinch.
Let’s me finish completely, then slowly, with a flourish, pulls off, lips swollen and wet, tongue poking out to show me my own release pooled and gleaming in her mouth.
She looks up at me, victorious.
A queen with an enemy’s head in her lap.
I want to drag her up, crush her to me, taste myself on her tongue, and never let her go.
“Come here,” I growl.
She obeys.
She crawls up my body, graceful and awkward all at once—her knees leaving bruises along my sides, her hands fluttering, tapping against my shoulders as if she needs another point of contact to anchor herself.
By the time she’s straddling my hips again, her hair is a mess, her eyes are wild, and she looks more alive than I’ve ever seen her.
She kisses me.
Hard.
No pretense.
Tongue sliding against mine, sharing the taste, biting my lower lip as her hand snakes down to grip my cock—still hard, still aching, the knot at the base already swelling with a promise of what comes next.
She massages it, deliberate, little circles that make me groan into her mouth.
“Want this?” she murmurs.
I nod, desperate.
“Want what?”
“Want your hot pussy on my cock. Right now.”
She laughs.
A wild, high sound—delight and derision all tangled together.
She grinds against my abdomen, teasing, letting me feel how wet she is—slick, sugar-scented, heat pouring off her in waves that make my head spin.
“How are you going to do that?” she teases. “You’re all tied up.”
She’s right.
I’m still cuffed.
Still helpless.
Still hers.
And the crazy thing is, I don’t want it any other way.
She leans in, dragging her tongue up the side of my throat, sucking a bruise just below my jaw before pulling back to study her handiwork.
Her fingers never stop moving.
Every so often she’ll pause, foot tapping on the mattress, or she’ll snicker under her breath at some private joke. The instability just makes her more unpredictable, more intoxicating.
“Is this what you want, Sage?” she whispers, voice gone low, dangerous. “You want a crazy bitch to ruin you forever?”
I can’t even answer.
I just nod, hips arching up in a silent plea.
She rewards me with another stroke, another roll of her hips that leaves us both gasping.
She’s driving me toward the edge again.
And I’ll let her…every single fucking time.
She hovers just above me, hips grinding against my abdomen, every inch of her a contradiction—soft curves, hard muscle, sweetness layered over razorwire. Her hands flutter along my shoulders, fingers flexing, tapping out a nervous rhythm like she’s orchestrating the world’s most dangerous symphony.
I let her think she has me.
Let her ride that high for as long as she wants.
But when she sits back—taunting, wild, so fucking beautiful I could eat her alive—I shift positions. Just a click, a pop of muscle memory, and the cuffs slide open.
I bring my hands down, slow, deliberate, relishing the way her eyes go wide.
She pouts.
A perfect imitation of anger, but the twitch at the corner of her mouth gives her away—she loves that I tricked her. Loves that the power was always an illusion, the game balanced on the knife-edge of mutual destruction.
“You were unlocked this whole time?” she gasps, faux-indignant.
I shrug, grinning up at her, palms open in surrender.
“Maybe. But I liked the idea of you having me. Of you in control. And honestly? If I don’t knot in you tonight, I’ll lose my fucking mind.”
She laughs.
A sound that starts as a giggle, then flips into something manic, borderline hysterical. She leans in, hair tumbling forward to shroud us both in a curtain of pink and silver and storm-memory.
“You’re insane,” she whispers, but the words are reverent, worshipful.
She wraps her arms around my neck, pressing her body to mine, her pulse fluttering everywhere I touch her—thigh, waist, nape.
“I’d ruin you, Sage,” she promises, soft, nothing but truth.
She shifts on my lap, hips rolling, slick heat teasing the head of my cock.
My knot swells under her grip, desperate, swollen, banded with nerves that feel like they might snap at any second.
“I want you to,” I say, and it’s not a plea. It’s surrender.
She shakes her head, giggling again—a hiccup, a bright burst, the sound of a chemical reaction just this side of combustion.
“You would not want to bond with me, Sage.”
Sage.
She says my name like it’s the last thing she’ll ever say.
Like there’s no more sacred word in the fucking dictionary.
And it hits me, all at once—if I lose her, if I let her go, there’ll never be another.
No one else who obsesses, who breaks, who fights and loves the way she does.
There are no replacements for a girl like this.
She’s a once-in-a-lifetime. A bomb with bubblegum hair and a death-wish, stitched together with hope and trauma.
I want to hold her until she stops shaking.
Forever, if that’s what it takes.
She glances sideways, eyes wild, pupils blown huge, unstable and beautiful.
“You like a challenge?” I ask, voice rough.
She nods, a savage little smile. “Why else would I still be here?” Her voice drops, deadly serious. “If I didn’t, I’d have quit. Left. Ended it all. But I didn’t.”
The words are a punch to the heart.
I see the truth in her eyes—the threat that’s always hovered, the line between survival and surrender.
I cup her cheeks, thumb brushing the bruise at the edge of her jaw.
I look at her—into those mismatched depths—and I know I can’t let her go.
“Well, thank whatever fucking being in the sky that you didn’t do any such thing,” I say, and my voice breaks on the last word.
Then I pull her in and kiss her.
Hard.
Devouring.
Everything in me pours into the seal of our lips—the hunger, the terror, the gratitude, the need.
She melts against me, still trembling, still tapping her fingers against my neck and gasping these little sounds that make me want to shield her from the world and set it on fire at the same time.
Her mouth is sugar, blood, ozone, and everything unholy.
I drag her closer, arms wrapping around her, knot throbbing between us, her thighs squeezing my hips tight.
Our bodies fit—perfect, inevitable, like someone planned this centuries ago and left us here to find each other at the end of the world.
She bites my lip, and I growl—a sound from somewhere primal, the animal in me answering the animal in her.
When she finally breaks the kiss, she’s panting, eyes shining, cheeks flushed to match the pink in her hair.
“You’re mine, Sage,” she says, and it’s not a question.
I nod, dizzy.
“Yeah. Yours.”
I kiss her again, like it’s the only thing that matters.
Might as well be signing on the dotted line of needing this Omega in my life forever…
And yet the idea doesn’t ignite a speck of fear…
Which is why it’s so easy to smother her with a kiss.
Like I’m about to seal a deal with the devil himself.