Chapter 155: Ruin
I had been dreaming of something wonderfully peaceful. It felt as though I were a tiny, translucent droplet floating in a vast, warm sea, gently riding the waves—drifting up, then smoothly dropping back down. I felt no fear, no pain, nor any of that endless anxiety that had lived under my skin for so long. There was absolute stillness in my soul.
My body felt completely weightless, light as air. It was as if I weren’t lying down at all, but hovering somewhere between sleep and reality in a soft, golden haze where neither past nor future existed—only silence and a strange, comforting sense of absolute protection.
"Wake up..."
Through the sweet haze of sleep, a voice reached me. Then, a touch scorched my neck with delicious warmth, dragging me out of the dream far faster than any sound ever could.
Warm palms began to slide over my body—slowly, unhurriedly, as though their master possessed all the time in the world. I felt myself being gently turned onto my back. Not roughly, but with exquisite care, as if I were something fragile and precious that must never be handled harshly.
Fluttering my heavy eyelids, I blinked against the dim light filtering through the tightly drawn curtains. The room was steeped in twilight. The air hung warm and thick, saturated with his scent, and that alone sent a faint, lingering pulse of heat trailing down my spine. Only when my vision finally cleared did I realize Magnus was hovering over me, bare-chested and close.
He looked drowsy and slightly disheveled. Loose strands of hair fell messily across his forehead, his dark lashes casting soft shadows, and his gaze was so intense—focused on me as if searching my face for answers to his own quiet thoughts. Or perhaps he was simply admiring me. At the thought, something inside my chest squeezed with a sweet, foolish warmth.
And then, as if waiting for that very moment, fragments of the previous night flashed through my mind like white-hot iron. The park. The Ferris wheel. The ring gleaming on my finger. His voice murmured against my ear. His hands. My scorching heat. The way I had begged for him, forgetting everything else in the world. The way he had looked down at me with darkened, almost wild eyes.
The more my memory returned, the wider the smirk stretched across Magnus’s sinful lips. The full spectrum of my shame and panic must have been plainly written all over my face; I could already feel my cheeks burning like wildfire, while a dark, satisfied ember flickered to life in Magnus’s molten eyes.
He leaned down lower. Where he had previously hovered on extended arms, he was now so close I felt not just the heat of his skin, but the full, intoxicating weight of his body settling over mine. Yet somehow, it didn’t feel wrong in the slightest. On the contrary, it felt good—far too good. His weight grounded me, his proximity seemed to piece me back together, and the heat radiating from him scorched my lungs, making it hard to draw a clear breath.
I could feel the hard ridge of his arousal pressing against my thigh, and my heart instantly accelerated into a frantic rhythm.
"You’re blushing... Are you still shy about what happens between us?" His fingers lightly traced my cheek before traveling down toward my throat. I saw his Adam’s apple bob as his touch brushed against the fresh mark on my neck.
His other hand, however, offered no such delicate restraint. He cupped my breast, squeezing the soft swell until a short, involuntary moan escaped my lips.
I squeezed my eyes shut. His thumb and forefinger found my nipple and pinched, drawing a faint hiss of slight pain that instantly melted into sharp pleasure. He glanced down, and my eyes followed his gaze. Bright, crimson bite marks and bruised kisses painted my pale skin—a stark, erotic contrast that sent another wave of molten heat flushing through my veins.
"Your skin is so delicate. I’ll take better care of your body..." Magnus murmured softly before leaning down to take the aching peak into his mouth.
The wet, suctioning sound, coupled with a brilliant flare of pleasure shooting through my frame, made me arch off the mattress and wrap my arms around his broad shoulders. What he was doing to me was absolute ruin. His scent grew richer, thicker, clouding my mind like an intoxicating drug. I felt it everywhere—in the air, on my skin, embedded in the sheets, trapped inside my lungs.
"Magnus... do you want me again?" My voice sounded far quieter than I intended, laced with a helpless tremble.
He chuckled low against my chest—a hot, wicked sound—as his tongue swirled over my nipple.
"I always want you. If it were up to me, I’d take you until neither of us had any strength left. Until you forgot your own name. Until every single cell of your body was saturated with my scent."
His words tore through my remaining sanity with their raw intensity, matching the hand that slid downward between my thighs. When his fingers brushed against the slick warmth still lingering from the night before, I groaned and arched into his touch. As if waiting for that exact surrender, he claimed my lips in a hard, ravenous kiss.
Two of his fingers slicked inside me, driving me toward madness. He dismantled my fragile self-control piece by piece, leaving me trembling from the searing intimacy, whispering his name over and over while he brought me to the brink. While he held me right on the excruciating, agonizing edge.
"That’s it..." he rasped against my lips, feeling the tight, pulsing contractions of my body around his fingers. "Don’t hide from me, baby. I want to watch how good I make you feel."
I tried to answer him, but the words dissolved in my throat. Nothing remained but the tremors wracking my body—and the unbearable, sweet fire that burned hotter with every stroke of his hand.