Mystic Ruins の小説・ストーリー

Where do you want me to touch you?” he asked with a mischievous glint in his blue eyes. “Please, touch me here,” I said as I took his hand and slowly guided his fingers beneath my panties. I moaned deliriously when I felt the heat of his fingers caressing my wet slit directly. **** I almost had a one-night stand with a stranger at my graduation after-party once. Almost broke a promise I made to my dead mother. He wasn’t like any other guy I’d come across. He had this sadness and arrogance hidden behind his beautiful eyes that made me fall for him. But within minutes of meeting each other, things changed drastically between us. He said words that made me feel humiliated, but that wasn’t the worst part. Neither was it the way he pulled away from me like I was something dangerous. It wasn’t even the fact that I couldn’t stop thinking about him afterward. The worst part was seeing him again nine months later, standing inside my 'house' while my father smiled and said: “This is your new stepbrother.” Zephyr Knox was never supposed to become my family. He was cold, cruel, self-destructive, and completely addicted to pushing people away before they could leave him first. Loving him was like holding fire in my bare hands and convincing myself the burns were worth it. I thought they were. Until secrets started destroying us. Until our parents found out about us. Until the smoke around us stopped being romantic and started becoming deadly. People say forbidden love ruins lives. I’ve come to the conclusion that they were right. Because loving my stepbrother didn’t just break my heart. It almost killed me.

"A woman like you? No fucking way you're a virgin." "Who said virgins can't be filthy, Rocco?" DIANA SANTORO: Five years locked inside a convent. Not because I was holy. Because the family I was born into is dangerous. My name is Diana Santoro. Mafia blood. And in this world, daughters like me get hidden away until the war is over. Now my brother’s the Don. And he wants me back. The man he sent to collect me? Rocco Moretti. The most feared monster in Italy. The devil of Cosa Nostra. They say he pulls confessions out of men with his bare hands—then sleeps like a baby afterward. Three days on the road. Just us. He’s expecting some scared little nun-in-training, ready to be escorted quietly back to my gilded cage. He has no idea that the only innocent thing about me is this face. **** ROCCO MORETTI: Forty-seven men. That's how many I've killed. Tortured more than double that. Never lost a minute of sleep over any of them. So why does this girl—with her innocent eyes and that smart mouth—make me feel like I'm losing my goddamn mind around every bend of this road? Last night, at some roadside motel, she walked into my room. Ran her fingers over my tattoos, looked up at me with this smirk, and told me she wasn't wearing underwear. What the hell does she want? To destroy me? To see how far she can push before I snap? She's a virgin. Untouched. Off-limits. The one thing a man like me can never have. But when she looks at me like that—wearing that short dress, lips parted just enough—I forget who I am. I forget I'm the monster. And I start wanting, with everything in me, to be the one who ruins her. Even if it costs me my life. Even if it costs me everything.