Lahat ng Kabanata ng Ruin Me, Master.: Kabanata 81 - Kabanata 90

Chapter 82. Her hands slid into his hair, fingers threading through the dark strands as she moaned softly, hips rolling to meet his.“Jerald…” she breathed again, eyes fluttering.He groaned as he kissed down to her chest, lingering at her cleavage, his tongue tracing along her skin. He nuzzled there, warm and tender, his voice muffled against her.“I’ll kiss every broken part of you,” he whispered. “And I’ll stay right here… until you believe you’re whole.”Jasmine trembled softly as his words undid her. Her chest ached. Her body shook.And still—he moved inside her, slow and deep, grunting softly with every thrust. His lips returned to hers, brushing against them as he spoke again between heavy breaths.“You’re everything, Jasmine… everything.”“Ummm..”She choked out a moan, arching into him, her walls clenching around his thick length as her body begged for more.Jerald’s hips found a rhythm—slow, deep strokes that filled her again and again, each thrust dragging a quiet moan from

Chapter 84. Jerald glared at the message that was glaring right back at him. His heart thumped gently against his chest as he struggled to comprehend what exactly the message meant. This person was saying that his father was killed by Jasmine? The very woman that whose heart beat for? Jerald was just about to hiss and discard the message when another message came in—this time, a picture. Jerald tapped on the message, letting it fill the screen. His eyes scanned through the image. “I want you to kill Mr De Luca. On the very day he hands over his empire to his illegitimate son.”“How about our plan for Manorh?”“He is too powerful and can’t be easily discarded. Let's strategize after this.”Jerald glared at the number at the top of the image sent to him. He memorized the numbers, fingers trembling gently as he moved closer to check Jasmine’s number which was currently saved in his phone. His heart thrummed widely in his chest, praying that the numbers didn't match, but when his

Chapter 86.Jasmine’s lips curled, menacingly.Then she shook her head, laughing at him and walking backward until her back met the coldness of the wall.Jerald glared at her, his heart breaking.His Jasmine was soft. If she had killed his father, something must have happened, right?She wasn’t that wicked. She was a soft girl. She would never harm a soul. Something must be wrong here. This wasn’t her. This couldn’t be her.He closed the space between them, grabbing her shoulders and holding her firmly.“Look at me, Jas. I love you,” he whispered, voice rough, frustrated from how fragile he was—how powerless he felt.But God—his heart burned so much. He had lost his father. Of course he didn’t want to lose her too. Not her. Not Jasmine.If only she would just listen to him… there could be a way. There could be a way out of all this darkness. Out of the pain. If she would just talk to him. Just trust him enough to break.The moment she had stayed silent when he threw that question at h

Chapter 88.“I still don't want you.”Jasmine said, not sparing him a glance. And that. That made something snap inside of Jerald. His lips curled gently, then a loud scoff tore past his lips.“You think I care about your opinion?”The word dropped in like a bomb his expression changing immediately.Jasmine glared at him, a hint of fear crawling at her insides. The psychopath side of him was coming to the surface.The Manhor part of him.She had heard this about him—during the research and the few pieces of information the investigation had yielded. She had learned that when he desired something badly, he claimed it. Even if it meant burning down the entire world to have it. If he didn't want nothing then he didn't want it. But if he wanted something then he would possess every inch of that stuff. Including humans. A flicker of fear flashed across her eyes, but she kept her composure, masking her fear with her confidence.His hand moved, knuckles trailing against her cheeks. His li

Chapter 90.The long mahogany table stretched across the room like a river of power, its glossy surface reflecting the low golden lights that hung overhead.Men sat on either side of it—capos, underbosses, lieutenants—each one armed in silence, waiting for the one man who sat at the very head.Jerald Deluca. Sicily most ruthless. He was still, unmoving, the black of his suit blending into the leather of his chair. A glass of untouched whiskey sat near his right hand. His left thumb dragged slowly across the side of the glass, round and round, like he was trying to erase time.Voices filled the room, heavy with business.“We’ve already taken over the Valencia port,” one of the capos said. “But the Spanish want more control. They’re pushing for a thirty percent cut of the shipment.”“That’s not going to happen,” another voice said. “They don’t get to make demands. We’re doing the transport, not them.”“The Irish are also asking for an arms exchange,” someone added. “They want fifteen c