29. Rue
rue
. . .
your game, your rules
If I’d died on the Journey to the Stars like I half-expected to, I’d have left this world having never seen River naked.
That was Maya’s response when I pulled her aside after dinner and blurted out not only the boner incident, but what River said about kissing him—that my mouth would never forget the shape of his.
In the moment, I’d felt like a passenger to the experience, like he was saying it to someone else. Truth be told, I thought only fictional men dropped bombs like that. I almost laughed in his face out of giddy disbelief; I probably would have if he hadn’t asked about my scar.
Hours later, I’m having a delayed physical response in the shower. I don’t know if River is back yet—when I left the Lodge, he was deep in conversation with Dan and Jae—but I can’t bring myself to care. Consciously or not, he edged me all damn day.
All that provocative looming. The mischievous smiles. The casual ass-grabbing when he caught me. The unnecessary closeness and smoldering looks. The secrets he shared. The vulnerability in his voice. His warmth and openness. The grounding clasp of his hand as I told him the origin of my name.
That romance-novel-worthy line and the abject hunger on his face as he said it. His lips trailing over my ear. The erection he didn’t even try to hide—incontrovertible evidence of what he wants from me.
That’s what sends me over the edge.
A strangled moan leaves me as my hips spasm against my hand. The pleasure ends too fast. It’s not enough.
Coming to terms with my decade’s worth of longing was one thing, but acknowledging the possibility he’s been flirting with me, maybe even seducing me?
It feels like reading a book with pages that burn as they’re flipped.
Our history is turning to smoke and ash right before my eyes, and our future is predetermined to do the same.
But the compulsion to keep reading has already eclipsed the consequences.
I’m truly, monumentally, metaphorically fucked. And I can’t even tell Ivy about it. I’ve barely spoken to her in the last week and a half, relying on the bullshit excuse of bad service and unreliable Wi-Fi. Every day, my guilt burrows deeper.
Bracing my hands on the tile, I drop my head to let the hot water pound on my neck and shoulders. The tension in my body slowly starts to unwind.
Then the water turns freezing cold.
An inhuman screech rips from my throat. I punch the dial to shut off the flow and reach for my towel, only to freeze when I register what I’m hearing.
The shower next door.
I pound my fist on the tile. “What the actual fuck!”
River’s laughing voice floats through the wall. “Sorry. From over here, it sounded like you’d finished.”
White noise fills my ears.
I stop breathing.
“You didn’t swallow your tongue, did you?”
The fog in my head burns off, taking all my doubts and guilt and fears with it. What’s left is a singular objective. I’m not leaving this planet without seeing River Ashburn naked at least once.
I grab my towel and start drying off with rapid strokes.
“Rue?”
His voice is softer. Uncertain.
“I shouldn’t have done that. Or said that. I… I’m sorry.”
There’s a thud, then a muttered curse.
The steam in my mirror has cleared enough for me to see the slight smile on my face. The smile stays as I towel dry my hair and twist it into a loose bun on the top of my head. It stays as I brush my teeth, swipe on deodorant, and throw on loose sleep shorts and a T-shirt.
When his shower turns off, I walk out my front door and across the porch. His door is unlocked. I let myself in and close it behind me.
River appears in his bedroom doorway with wide eyes, an open mouth, and a towel held around his waist. Wet hair drips down his chest.
“I’m sor—”
“Save it.”
As I get closer, his expression changes. There’s wariness. Tension. His eyes flicker down, note my lack of bra, and rise with a hint of panic. When I’m a few feet away, he backpedals like I’m a predator planning to eat him.
Cute—also correct.
“Rue? Are you feeling okay?”
“I’m perfectly fine. Great, even. Why?”
His calves meet the bed. “Your smile is scary. I don’t know if you’re here to murder me or—”
I shove his chest with both hands. He makes a satisfying “Oof” as his butt hits the mattress.
I pat his head. “Good boy. Stay.”
Veering around the bed, I grab one of his pillows, then return and drop it at his feet. The hand gripping his towel flexes, knuckles bleaching.
“What are you doing?”
The barely veiled ferocity in his voice gives me the final piece of courage I need to embrace the mother of all fuck-it moments.
“Have you been trying to seduce me?”
Eyes more black than gold search mine. His throat convulses. “Yes. I want you so fucking much.”
A blistering wave of arousal spreads beneath my skin. My nipples tighten. I press my thighs together, already regretting my choice of no underwear under my pajamas.
River tenses like he’s about to lunge for me. I throw a hand up and he stills.
“Get rid of the towel and spread your knees.”
His brows draw together, his breaths coming fast and shallow. As he wages an internal battle, I watch a water droplet slide down his stomach. When it disappears beneath his towel, I lick my lips.
He surrenders with a soft groan, pulling the fabric off his lap and spreading his legs. My own weaken and wobble—only a previously latent superpower keeps me upright as I take him in.
I had some idea of what to expect, obviously; the man’s dick print is trademarked in my head.
But I wasn’t prepared for him to be so… attractive.
Hard and straight and thick, his shaft juts out unapologetically from trimmed dark hair.
The head is wide and flared, moisture already beading at the tip. Even his balls are appealing.
I spare a moment to feel bad for penis owners worldwide, then lift my gaze to his face.
“I stand corrected. Not a micro-peen.”
Humor touches the hunger in his eyes. My heart pattering, I move a step closer.
“No touching below the neck. And no taking over. This is my show.”
At his quick nod, I toe the pillow into position and fall to my knees between his thighs. His cock twitches like it’s saying hello.
I smother a grin. “You can talk if you want.”
Before he can say something that will topple my tenuous control, I flatten my palms on his chest and stroke downward.
All that comes out of him is a delightful whimper.
His skin is taut and warm, the hair on his lower abdomen surprisingly soft. I lean forward and place a kiss beneath his navel. His cock whacks my chest.
I find the same laughter in his eyes that brims in mine. His fades first, replaced by yearning. Endless, aching need.
“Please, Rue,” he whispers.
I dance my fingers down his clenching abdomen, then drop onto my heels. Wrapping my hands around him, I swirl my tongue across his tip, then suck lightly. He even tastes good, like a deeper, stripped-down version of his natural scent.
River gifts me with a shaky groan, half-lidded golden eyes pinned to my mouth. Flattening my tongue, I take him deeper, hollowing my cheeks as I draw back. He hisses, hands fisting in the sheets, lashes fluttering.
“Fuuccck.”
I’m so enraptured by his unguarded reactions—grunts and gasps, the press of fangs into his bottom lip—that it takes several passes of my tongue for me to register something that doesn’t make sense.
Popping off him, I lift his cock and gape. Two frenum piercings form a neat rectangle of silver beads just beneath the head. The thought of them inside me is both intimidating and dangerously tempting.
“Surprise,” he croaks.
I whisper, “You really are a unicorn.”
His grunt of laughter cuts off when I suck him back into my mouth. I’d planned to tease him—torture him, really—for as long as possible, but the sight of his piercings ruined that.
Now all I want is to devour him.
I work my mouth and hands over him, up and down, swallowing each time he reaches the back of my throat. His hoarse groans fill my ears and send pulses of heat to my clit. I’m so wet my thighs are slippery. Unwilling to sacrifice either of my hands, I rock helplessly into nothing.
“Are you uncomfortable, Rue? Is that pussy throbbing for me?”
I shiver. “Mm-hmm.”
River curves over me, his closeness hot and dark and electric. I don’t realize what’s happening until he yanks the pillow up between my legs. I whimper in relief at the sudden friction.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous. You’re going to come just from sucking me off, aren’t you?”
His voice wraps around me as his hands do—one gently cupping the back of my head, the other encasing the side of my neck. I suck harder, stroke faster, and he showers me with praise and glorious groans.
But he doesn’t come.
I eventually pull off him to give my jaw a break and catch my breath. Slowing my hands to a lazy stroke, I sigh.
“You jerked off in the shower, didn’t you?”
His smile is pure sin. “Before. Listening to you.”
The fingers on my head tighten, catching my bun in a fist. I gasp, my back arching at the burst of sensation. My eyes flutter closed, then pop back open when two fingers hook into my mouth.
River hovers over me like a dark god, drying hair cascading around his face.
“Sweet, sweet Ruin. Twenty minutes ago, I would have shot my load down your throat in seconds. I’ve been leaking for you all day.”
His fingers press against my tongue. Saliva pools and slips from the corner of my mouth.
My eyes narrow.
His smile sharpens.
“I’ll follow your rules. I won’t touch you. Kiss you.” His gaze flickers down. “I won’t stretch your dripping cunt with my tongue or my cock.”
A pitiful whine sneaks past his fingers. More saliva drips as I attempt to put him in his place.
“Uccc eww.”
His eyes soften, a thumb stroking my cheek tenderly. “I wish I could, but your game, your rules. We can stop if you want.”
I shake my head, rearing back to dislodge his fingers. “I’m not leaving here until what’s in that”—I point at his glistening cock—“is in this.” I jab my finger at my open mouth.