29. Rue #2
Surprise flashes in his eyes, swiftly replaced by lust. His hold tightens, gently stretching my neck as he lifts my face. My mouth tingles as his moves so close we’re breathing each other’s air.
“I mean this in the most respectful way possible—I had no idea you were such a cockslut. This greedy, gorgeous mouth is going to end me.”
A near-violent pulse between my legs makes me whimper and rock faster. The pillow is for sure on its way to being ruined.
Panting, I mumble, “You’re the one who talks like a book boyfriend.”
His brows lift. “What?”
“Never mind. Keep talking, please and thank you.”
His lips curve, eyes glittering darkly. “No one’s ever called you a slut before, have they?”
I gasp, my hips chasing another spark of sensation. “No.”
“Good.” His mouth moves to my ear. “You’re going to make yourself come. Then you’re going to wrap those pretty lips around my cock and swallow what I give you like a good little slut.”
Abandoning the illusion of dignity, I snake one hand into my shorts and the other up my T-shirt. Two fingers circle fast against my clit as I palm my breasts, tugging at my nipples.
“More.”
With a groan that’s mostly a growl, he seizes the back of my neck. His other hand fists his cock and pumps it hard and fast. The sight pulls a piteous sound from me.
“You like watching me, do you? Put your fingers inside your cunt. I want to hear how wet you are.”
“Oh god. If this is a dream, I’m going to be so pissed.”
His grin is wolfish. “This is a dream. Mine. Now let me hear it.”
I sink onto one finger, then two, and pump them in and out. The sound is obscene, but there’s no shame. Not when River watches me with stark longing, his hand chasing my movements.
“You have no idea, Rue. No idea how perfect you are. Come for me. Drench that hand. Let me suck it clean while you suck me dry.”
There’s no more buildup, just detonation. My eyes roll back in my head, my mouth opening in a silent scream as pleasure rearranges all my cells. I ride the waves all the way back to River, already reaching for him as the last pulse recedes.
He snatches my wet fingers. As he sucks them into his mouth, I swallow his cock. His moan vibrates my hand.
“I knew you’d taste like heaven.”
An aftershock throbs through me, intensifying my need to feel him lose control. I devote myself to the cause, finding a rhythm that makes his hips roll and forces him to surrender my fingers because he can’t focus. He cradles my head instead, lightly massaging my neck and aching jaw.
“You’re doing so well. Making such a mess of me. Fuccck.” His cock swells against my tongue. “Eyes up. I need to see you. Please.”
What I find when I lift my gaze is a mirror of my emotions. Possession. Hunger. Hope. Torment. A thumb sweeps across my jaw, the touch featherlight and profound.
“Are you sure?” he whispers.
I pop off, panting. “Yes. In my mouth.”
When I lean forward, he stops me with gentle pressure on my neck. His eyes are twin eclipses, gold ringing depthless black.
“I started calling you Ruin because deep down, I knew you’d end me.” A half smile announces his dimple. “Can’t say I was expecting the bullet to be a blow job.”
“RIP you.”
Opening my mouth, I stick out my tongue. River groans, his eyes rolling to the ceiling.
“I accept my fate. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
I laugh breathlessly, shaking my head.
“River?”
Crinkled eyes meet mine. “Yes. Whatever you want, the answer is yes.”
“I’m tired. Fuck my mouth right now or RIP for real.”
He barks a laugh. The hands cradling my head firm and gently tug me forward. By the time he pushes past my lips, his amusement has been wiped away.
“You’ve worked so hard. Do you want to relax now and let me use this mouth?”
I can barely believe it, but a new wave of arousal floods me. Humming approval, I flick my tongue across his piercings. Air hisses through his clenched teeth. He shifts forward, guiding me back to my heels, and tilts my head exactly where he wants it. I look up.
“Good fucking girl. Keep those eyes on me.”
He starts with an easy, shallow rhythm that lets me tease his piercings with every pass.
Little by little, he pushes deeper. He’s careful initially, testing my limits.
When he doesn’t find any, he makes a guttural, unguarded sound and finally lets go.
I keep my eyes on his the entire time, sucking air through my nose when I can and swallowing as needed.
River undone by pleasure is an otherworldly sight. His eyes shine with virility, acutely focused on mine. The power of his grip and thrusts is tempered by his care for my comfort.
He’s using me reverently.
Debasing me adoringly.
It’s an exchange of filthy worship, so sacred I want to weep.
His cock firms even more, his breath stuttering. “My Ruin,” he whispers. “Swallow every drop for me.”
I suck in a final breath before his hips drive forward once, twice, three more times. He comes with my name on his lips, his head thrown back in ecstasy. His cock throbs and cum erupts—everywhere. Beneath my tongue. Down my throat. Between and around my damn teeth.
It’s… a lot. Way more than I’m capable of handling.
My eyes water as I struggle. I try to hold on, but my body overrules me, and I choke so hard a muscle in my back cramps.
The accompanying, tragic sound effect causes River to pull from my mouth so fast my teeth catch his piercing.
I wince on his behalf, but he doesn’t seem to notice as he falls to his knees beside me.
Shaking hands frame my face, his own etched with distress.
“Shit, Rue, I’m—”
I pinch his lips closed, grimacing as I swallow one last time.
“Shut up,” I rasp, chuckling hoarsely. “I’m fine, just unused to having my esophagus fondled by a giant cock and a gallon of baby gravy.”
The sound he makes bridges hilarity and horror. He all but collapses against me, his forehead falling to my shoulder. “I should have been paying more attention. I didn’t mean to—”
“If you finish that sentence, I’ll hurt your feelings.”
His laugh is rough. Too rough.
“Hey.”
I poke his chest, but he doesn’t respond. He’s breathing fast, fine tremors moving up and down his frame. Needing to see his face, I grab a handful of thick hair at the back of his neck and tug gently until he lifts his head. He quickly swipes a forearm across his downcast eyes.
I scramble to my feet. He stays kneeling—head bowed, arms loose at his sides, chest heaving. A wild god defeated.
Unacceptable.
“River. Look at me.”
I palm his cheek, and he finally lifts his gaze. My chest deflates as my suspicion is confirmed.
“You’re crying,” I whisper. “Why? You didn’t hurt me. I promise.”
He closes his eyes, another tear slipping through thick lashes. “Just overwhelmed, sorry. That was…” He trails off, shaking his head.
I catch his tear with my thumb and step forward, gently drawing his head to my chest. With a sigh reminiscent of pressure releasing, he wraps his arms tightly around my waist.
We stay like that for minutes. Maybe hours. Possibly an eternity. And by the time he stands, lifting me as he does, I understand the cost of my choice.
I’m never recovering from this.