Chapter 29 #3
Her hands drop to my belt. She unbuckles it, pops the button, pulls the zipper, and wraps her hand around my cock.
The first contact shoots heat up my spine.
Her grip is tight, her thumb swiping the head, spreading the wetness down the shaft, and my hips jerk forward into her fist. She strokes me from base to tip, and my vision blurs.
"Ruby." Her name comes out wrecked.
"I've got you." She strokes again, twisting her wrist at the top, her thumb pressing the underside of the head, and the pressure there sends a pulse through my whole body. My hands grip the edge of the desk on either side of her thighs. "Let me thank you."
I pull her jeans down her hips. She lifts.
The panties match the bra, black lace barely covering anything, and when I drag them down her thighs, the lace is soaked.
I press two fingers against her pussy, sliding through the wetness, and she jerks against my hand.
She's swollen, hot, the slickness coating my fingers as I spread her open.
"You've been like this since the meeting," I say. My fingers push inside her, curling, and the heat of her clenching around my fingers makes my cock throb. I find the spot that makes her thighs clamp around my hand.
"I've been like this since you called East 'Greg' with a straight face." Her voice fractures as my thumb presses her clit. "The composure while committing psychological warfare is the single most attractive thing you've ever done, and you once held me against a wall and told me I was yours."
I pull my fingers out. She whines at the loss.
I drag her to the edge of the desk, her bare ass on the wood, her legs spread wide.
I grip the base of my cock and press the head against her entrance, dragging it through her folds, coating myself in her wetness.
She watches, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, her chest heaving.
"Every surface," I say. I push inside her. One slow stroke, burying myself to the hilt. The heat of her swallows me. Tight, wet, her walls gripping me like she's trying to keep me there. My breath leaves my lungs in a rush.
"Every surface." Her voice is wrecked. Ruby's eyes roll shut as she leans back on the desk, bracing herself on her hands. Her knuckles go white against the edge, her back arching off the wood.
I pull out slow. The drag of her around me, the way her body resists letting me go, sends a shudder through my arms. I push back in deep and groan against her neck.
The angle on the desk is everything. Her pussy grips me on every stroke, tight, wet, the sound of it filling the dark office.
I grip her thighs to spread her wider, watching my cock slide in and out of her, slick, glistening.
The visual pushes heat through my spine and pools low in my stomach.
She pulls me down by my shirt. Her mouth against my ear. "Harder."
I give her harder. My hips snapping against hers, the desk scraping across the floor with each thrust. Every time I bottom out, the pressure builds at the base of my cock, the kind that coils tighter with each stroke.
Her moans press into my neck, muffled, bitten off, the quietest she's ever been because fifty feet away the family is eating dinner.
I slide my hand between us, my thumb on her clit, rubbing in tight circles while I fuck her, and her pussy flutters around me in response.
"Nash." My name breathed against my neck. "Right there. Don't stop."
Her walls clench around me, tightening in pulses, her thighs trembling against my hips.
I feel her building, her whole body coiling, her pussy squeezing me in waves that make it harder to hold back.
My forehead drops against hers. My breathing is ragged.
I'm close, and she's pulling me there with every clench of her body.
"I love you," she whispers. "I love you and I'm coming. Both of those things are happening at the same time, and I can't stop either one."
"I love you." The words come out against her mouth. Raw. "Come for me."
She comes hard. Her pussy clenching in waves around my cock, her body shaking, her teeth sinking into my shoulder to muffle the cry.
The bite, the clench, the wet heat of her pulling me deeper all hit at once, and my control snaps.
I feel her orgasm around me, every pulse drawing me in, and it breaks me open.
I bury myself to the hilt, my hands gripping her hips, and come inside her in long, shuddering pulses, her name pressed through my teeth, my whole body emptying into hers.
We hold. Her arms are around my neck. My hands are on her hips. My cock is still inside her, both of us catching our breath. The desk solid beneath her. Through the wall, Maggie's voice calls for someone to pass the salt. Kyle's laugh. East telling someone his name is not Greg.
"We just had sex during a family dinner," Ruby says into my shoulder.
"Yes."
"At a desk. In an office. While my parents eat rosemary chicken fifty feet away."
"Yes."
"That's one surface down." She pulls back. Her face is flushed, hair wrecked, and her makeup smudged. "How many surfaces does this clubhouse have?"
"More than you think."
"Challenge accepted."
I pull out, clean us both up with my undershirt, and help her dress. The lace goes back on. Then the jeans and top. She fixes her hair using her phone screen as a mirror.
"How do I look?" she asks.
"Like a woman who just had sex on a desk."
"That's not helpful. I need to walk back into that room and make eye contact with my mother."
"You'll manage."
"I'll manage because I'm Ruby Leighton and managing is my superpower. But if my mother looks at me and says, 'you look flushed, dear,' I'm blaming it on Maggie's chicken."
I unlock the door. Check the hallway. Clear. She slips past me, smoothing her top, and disappears into the main room. I wait two minutes, then follow.
At the table, Ruby is already seated beside Raine. Her plate is full. Her face is innocent. She's telling her mother about the new clothes, about the jacket that finally arrived, the jeans that fit the way jeans should fit when a man doesn't order them in novelty sizes.
East passes behind her chair. "Tell Nash I know it was you, Greg," Ruby says without looking up.
"MY NAME IS EAST."
Raine looks at Ruby. "Why is he saying his name?"
"Long story, Mom. Pass the chicken."
My phone buzzes against my thigh. Victor's name is on the screen. He's ten feet away, his arm around Olivia, and his face is unchanged.
Whitmore's truck was spotted outside Batesville. He's moving early.
I look up. Victor is already watching me. Across the table, Malachi checks his phone, reads, then sets it face down. Knox's screen lights up. He glances at it once, then finds my eyes. East shifts Rowan to his other arm and reads his phone one-handed. James sets his coffee mug down.
Forty-eight hours just became twenty-four.