His Eyes Knew My Ruins

Never Enough

Rafael stood in front of the vase placed on the table in his room.

He didn’t need to ask who had arranged it.

The balance was too careful.

The colors too gentle.

There was a softness in the way the flowers leaned—unforced, unclaimed—nothing like the sharp precision of the house.

Sarah.

His gaze shifted.

She was seated against the glass wall, knees drawn close, her body angled toward the waterfall outside. Nightlight brushed her profile as she stared into the distance, lost in thought. Every time her parents crossed her mind, she came here—silent, unmoving, as if the view could somehow carry her worry away.

Rafael approached without a sound and lowered himself in front of her.

Up close, she looked fragile in a way that didn’t ask for protection—only acknowledged how easily she could be broken. The silver nightgown clung softly to her, catching light with every breath, making restraint feel like an effort rather than a choice.

He lifted a hand and brushed his thumb along her cheek.

The light touch startled her.

Sarah’s eyes flew open. She stood immediately, startled.

“I—I didn’t notice when you came,” she said quickly, her voice soft, uncertain.

Rafael straightened.

“We have a bed,” he said calmly. “Why are you sleeping against glass?”

“I was watching the waterfall,” she replied. “I must’ve dozed off.”

He didn’t respond. He simply loosened his tie and walked toward the washroom, the silence heavier than words.

When he returned, Sarah was still standing where she’d been, hands folded in front of her.

“Yes?” he asked, already knowing.

She hesitated. “Can I talk to my parents?”

Rafael studied her for a moment, then reached for a phone. He dialed, held it out to her.

“It’s your responsibility,” he said evenly, “to make sure they believe you’re fine. You should know how to manage that.”

Sarah nodded quickly and took the phone.

“Hello, Mom… Dad… it’s me.”

She swallowed, forcing steadiness into her voice.

“My phone broke. I’m calling from a colleague’s number. Please don’t call back here.”

“Are you both back from your trip?”

She lied gently, carefully—about work, about urgency, about being fine.

“I’ll be back in a few days,” she added, the words catching briefly before she steadied herself again.

“Yes… you too. Take care.”

She handed the phone back. “Thank you.”

After a pause, she asked softly, “Can I call them later—from the phone you gave me?”

“You can,” Rafael replied.

Her face lit up, just slightly.

The smile that followed was small—but real.

It caught him off guard.

⸻

After dinner, Sarah sat on the bed, her back resting against the headboard, a book open in her hands. A history book from the house library—pages already creased where she’d lingered.

Rafael worked from the couch, laptop open, eyes flicking to her more often than he allowed himself to acknowledge.

When he finished, he closed the laptop and leaned back.

“What are you reading?” he asked.

“History.”

His brow lifted faintly. “Interesting choice.”

Then, without looking away, he said, “Come here.”

Sarah hesitated only a second before walking toward him.

The moment she reached him, his hand caught her wrist and pulled her down onto his lap—decisive, controlled. She gasped softly, instinctively gripping his shoulder for balance.

Rafael’s arm came around her waist, steadying her as if she belonged there.

His other hand found the delicate knot at her waist.

Slowly, deliberately, he loosened it.

Not rushing.

Not forcing.

Just reminding her—without words—who decided where she sat, where she stayed, and how close she was allowed to be.

Sarah’s breath hitched, her fingers tightening against him.

And Rafael watched every reaction with quiet, dangerous focus.

Sarah’s clothes had been chosen deliberately—every fabric, every cut aligned with Rafael’s taste. Nothing about her appearance was accidental.

As she is in front of him, the way the robe fell revealed more than modesty allowed, and Rafael’s gaze darkened instantly. His fingers curling into her hair, guiding her head back so he could look at her properly—unfiltered, unguarded.

With slow precision, he loosened the robe, letting it slip away as if it had never belonged there. His touch was possessive, claiming, drawing her closer until there was no space left for hesitation. The air between them grew heavy as he pulled her into him, his presence overwhelming, unavoidable.

He kissed her deeply—unhurried, consuming—before trailing his attention downward, mapping her reactions, learning every breath she failed to control. He stop above her panty and remove it then he open her folds and starts eating her up. Sarah grab his hair, the unfamiliar intensity leaving her dizzy, undone, unable to ground herself. He explore her with his tongue. Earth shattering orgasm took over Sarah but Rafael didn’t stop he took her with full intensity. He start f*****g her like a beast. When he is done his seeds are spilling out of Sarah.

Then he lifted her, she barely registered the movement—only the way the world narrowed to him, to the strength that held her, to the sensation of being completely claimed. The moment shattered her composure, leaving her weak, breathless, spent.

But Rafael wasn’t.

He took her again, this time pressing her against the glass, the night bearing silent witness. By the time exhaustion claimed her, Sarah no longer remembered when her resistance faded—only that sleep came wrapped in his presence, heavy and inescapable.