19. Ruby
Chapter 19
Ruby
I hear the shower turn on in the bathroom and roll over to my back with a huge smile.
I take a deep breath and look up at my ceiling.
I do really like sleeping in my own bed—my pillows are absolutely superior to Mariah’s and I should have taken more than one that first night—and I really, really like sleeping in my own bed with Henry next to me.
I also like sleeping when everyone is great. Scarlett is great. Cian is great. Mariah is great. April and Elliot are great.
I have no one to worry about.
Sure, that makes me feel like I’m floating without a real destination or plan at the moment, but I’m also floating which is a nice feeling.
Once I get to New Orleans, I’ll have a plan again.
A glance at the clock tells me that Henry either realized or got a text telling him that he didn’t need to pick up cinnamon rolls and deliver them to the bar this morning. April stayed over at Mandy’s. Will always goes and picks up Charles, so Mandy probably gave April a ride to Dick’s with the cinnamon rolls sitting on the seat between them.
I stretch and contemplate joining Henry in the shower.
I only contemplate it for about a minute. Why would I not do that?
I get up and pad to the bathroom door. It’s not latched and just as I reach out to push it open, I hear the unmistakable sound of a low, husky male groan.
That doesn’t sound like a groan of pain or illness. I’ve heard that groan before.
I quietly nudge the door open another inch. I hear the groan again and then my name.
“Ruby. Fuck .”
Oh, I know exactly what’s going on.
And while it is very hot, I can’t believe he’s doing that without me.
I push the door open further and slip inside.
Steam makes the air a little hazy, but even without that, I wouldn’t be able to see him.
Unfortunately, we live in an older house that has not been renovated in the past twenty years. If only we’d had the money to put in an all-glass panel shower. Because this would be a very nice sight.
As it is, Henry is on the other side of a plastic shower curtain covered with seahorses, and I can’t see anything.
But I have a very good imagination, and I have committed every inch of this man to memory.
I lift myself up onto the bathroom counter as he groans my name again. I’m only wearing a long T-shirt and panties, so the countertop is cold against my ass and bare thighs, but I don’t care. I cross my legs, brace my hands on the counter, and grin.
“Ruby. Fuck, just like that. That’s my girl.”
Sounds like I’m doing a great job.
“Yes, yes .”
I’m imagining him with one hand braced against the shower wall, water sliding over all of those sculpted muscles, head hanging, his big right hand wrapped around his thick cock, pumping the length rapidly.
Is he imagining me giving him a blow job, or is he fucking me in this fantasy?
My thighs clench in response to both images.
He groans again, and I uncross my legs. I move my hand between my thighs, over the silk of my panties, pressing against my clit.
Why should he be the only one having fun? He could’ve invited me into the shower with him. Or he could’ve stayed in the bedroom and woken me up. Or he could’ve just waited until I woke up, and we could’ve done this in the bedroom. Or he could’ve carried me into the shower.
He’s the one who decided to go solo. So…
I slip my hand inside my panties, my middle finger sliding over my clit. I pause and circle, imagining it’s Henry’s tongue. I slide my fingers lower, teasing my entrance, then sliding first one finger, then another inside.
I’m so wet from just listening to him and imagining what he’s doing.
I can definitely get myself off right here and now while he’s doing the same on the other side of the shower curtain.
I let my head fall back, and I slip my other hand under my shirt and up to cup one breast.
Suddenly, the shower curtain slides open.
“What are you doing, Gem?”
I gasp and jerk both hands away from my body guiltily.
Then I frown. Why should I stop? I’m not doing anything wrong. Besides, he’s seen me do this before. “What am I doing? You started it.”
“Were you just masturbating on the bathroom counter?” he asks.
I let my gaze track over his wet, naked form. He didn’t finish. His cock is hard, huge, almost angry-looking.
“I was,” I admit. “While listening to you masturbate in the shower.”
“You just walk into the bathroom when other people are showering?”
“Your groaning and calling my name made me curious. I thought maybe you were sick.”
Finally, he gives a short laugh. “You came in here because you were concerned ?”
I give him a little smile. “No. I’ve heard you say my name like that before. I was pretty sure what was going on.”
“Why didn’t you just get in the shower with me?”
“Why didn’t you wake me up and bring me in here with you?” I counter.
“I didn’t intend to jerk off in here. But then I started thinking about last night.”
“And you have such little control, you just couldn’t wait?”
He grins. “Something like that.”
I push myself off the counter and pad across the floor to stand in front of him. “Or were you hoping I would hear you?”
He reaches out, grabs the front of my T-shirt, and tugs.
I laugh and step over the side of the tub. The water drenches my shirt and hair immediately.
“Maybe something like that.” He leans over. “Took you long enough. I almost finished without you.”
He strips my shirt off, something he could’ve done before he pulled me into the shower, by the way, then grabs the side of my panties.
I realize he’s going to just rip them and I grab his wrists. “There’s another way to take panties off!”
“Told you that you wear panties too often,” he says.
I laugh and push them down my legs. I have to wiggle and bend to drag the wet silk off.
As I’m bent, pulling them over my ankles, I find myself on level with his gorgeous cock.
So I go to my knees.
“Gem,” he says, a note of warning in his voice.
I look up at him, the warm water sliding down my back, rivulets running down my face. “What?” I reach out and take his cock in hand. “Were you fucking me in your fantasy? It wasn’t a blow job?”
His hand goes to my head and tangles in my wet hair. He brings me forward, and I happily swirl my tongue over the head of his cock before sucking just an inch inside my mouth.
“My fist was your hot, gorgeous, sassy, smart mouth,” he says, his voice husky.
I look up at him from under my lashes. “I was hoping so.”
I love giving Henry blow jobs. Having that kind of power over this man is my very favorite thing in this entire world.
I suck him further into my mouth, relaxing so that he can hit the back of my throat immediately.
He groans, and yes, that’s exactly the sound I heard.
I work him with my mouth and my hand, making sure every inch of his cock and balls get attention.
It’s sloppy, wet, hot, and so fucking good.
When he tries to pull back, with an, “I’m gonna come, Gem,” I reach around and grasp his ass, keeping him right where he is.
He doesn’t fight me. He knows that I know what I want.
He pumps into my mouth, then comes with a growl that makes my pussy clench with need.
I pull back and look up at him, opening my mouth to ask if it was as good as his imagination, but he’s already pulling me to my feet, lifting me, and stepping out of the shower. He sets me back on the counter where I was. We’re both dripping all over the floor and the counter, but he doesn’t care. He kneels in front of me, spreads my legs, and leans in, licking me with a long firm lick, then gives my clit a hard suck.
He eats at me as if he’s starving, and I can’t do anything but hold onto the edge of the counter and his hair.
It only takes a few minutes for him to send me careening over the cliff of a hard, hot orgasm.
I cry his name loudly, and then he kisses his way up my body, finally taking my mouth in a hot, yet so sweet kiss.
When he pulls back, both of us still breathing a little hard, he smiles down at me. “Good morning.”
I laugh. “Good morning.”
“I was thinking, everyone at Dick’s is doing fine. I don’t think they need us for a little bit. What do you say to going to breakfast at the coffee shop downtown?”
I’m surprised, but I instantly catch on. “You want to go to the coffee shop where Charles, Will, Ben, and Dan refuse to go?”
“Yep.”
I shrug. He’s curious. I get it. It’s probably best to experience what I’ve described to him. “Okay.”
“You up for it?”
Seeing our father and his followers around town has always been hard on Scarlett. She has more direct experience and memories with them. For me, they’re just people. Well, seeing our father always infuriates me, because I can’t help but think of how he treated Scarlett and our mother, of course. But I nod. “Yes, but their coffee and cinnamon rolls have nothing on Dick’s.”
“I have a feeling I’ll have the same opinion about the servers and the general clientele.”
And how am I supposed to not be crazy about him when he’s already fallen for my bunch of loveable oddballs at Big Dick’s?