32. River
river
. . .
cherry on top
I close my sketchbook and set it down beside my chair, then chuck my pencil onto it. Elbows on my knees, I try to physically wipe the smile off my face with a hand. But it doesn’t budge.
Rue has a glasses kink. More specifically, a me-in-glasses kink.
I chuckle at the memory of her stammering with a bright-red face, her eyes so wide they were ringed in white.
When her shower turns on, I retreat inside.
Every thud of my heart pumps more adrenaline into my veins, but I make myself wait.
I drink a glass of water, retie my hair, and check my pits and my breath.
I stretch my neck and shoulders, the left side sore from hitting the flagstones.
I’m sure I’ll be bruised tomorrow, but I couldn’t care less.
The second the water turns off, I’m on my way across the porch. She left her front door open. Her bedroom door too. As I near the latter, the soft, herbal scent of her bodywash grows.
I stop on the threshold.
Rue stands at her dresser. She’s facing away from me, wrapped in a towel that barely covers her ass.
Water beads on her upper back, arms, and shoulders, and damp tendrils of hair curl against her neck.
The rest sits in a messy knot on the top of her head, a cherry on the dessert I’m about to consume.
“Rue.”
She shrieks and spins, brandishing a hairbrush like a sword before slumping against the dresser. Sadly, the knot holding her towel survives.
“I almost murdered you.”
I smirk. “With a brush?”
“I—” She starts, then stops and frowns. “What are you doing here?”
“Are you aware you left your front door wide open?”
Her eyes flare, telling me she isn’t. “So you invited yourself in to, what? Lecture me on personal safety?”
“Not quite.”
So she can’t misunderstand, I drag my gaze down her body, lingering on her legs before returning my attention to her face. Her lips have parted. Each ragged breath she takes tests the towel’s resilience across her chest. As I start walking toward her, the black of her pupils blooms across blue.
I stop close enough to hear her tiny gasp when I place my hands on the dresser on either side of her. Then I lower my mouth to her ear.
“I owe you a thank you for saving me earlier. Lucky for me, our conversation this morning also needs to be finished.”
She makes a strangled sound. “I told you I don’t expect that.”
“You’re missing a crucial piece of information, sweet Ruin. My desire to reciprocate is completely selfish. I’ve dreamed about your thighs around my neck for a long, long time. You gave me a taste last night, but I want it from the source. So, any interest in coming all over my face?”
I lean back. Her gaze lifts.
Instead of finding desire in her eyes, I find uncertainty. Instead of excitement, I find fear.
My lungs lock, my heart drops through the floor, and I take two immediate steps back.
“I’m sorry. I’ll go.”
Her eyes round in panic. She lunges forward, grabbing a fistful of my T-shirt in one hand. Her other wraps around my wrist. Before I can comprehend her intent, she shoves my hand between her legs—right against her hot, wet pussy.
Blood rushes to my cock so fast my head spins.
“You’re soaked. Because of me?”
She licks her lips. “Yes. It’s a long-term, ongoing problem.”
As much as her words fill an empty space inside me, I don’t miss the lingering tightness around her eyes.
“Please tell me what you’re thinking. Tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it.”
She rocks against my hand, and it takes every ounce of my willpower not to move my fingers.
“You’re trying to distract me, Princess.”
“Is it working?”
I wrap my free hand around her neck, my grip light but firm enough to tilt her face upward.
“Tell me. Right now.”
Her throat moves against my palm. “I’m thinking a lot of things.
The hand necklace is working for me. The bossy voice is hot, but I’ll stomp on your dick if you speak to me like that in public.
Your glasses are stupidly sexy. I wish you didn’t have a shirt on.
Or pants. I’m more comfortable giving oral than receiving it, and I don’t want you to be disappointed or take it personally if I can’t come. ”
The last part is a rushed mumble, but I’m fluent in Rue St. James.
“That’s a lot to unpack, but for now, let’s focus on your final statements. Or should I say assumptions.”
I cup her pussy, pressing my palm firmly to her clit. She gasps, her hips canting instinctively, and slaps her hands against the face of the dresser to steady herself.
“Whoever made you think it was your responsibility to make yourself come during sex is a fucking idiot and unworthy of being in the same zip code as you.”
I increase the pressure of my palm, then skim the tips of my fingers over her silky, soaked center.
My broken groan joins her whimper. Her eyes close.
Her head falls back. I glide my other hand around her throat to support her neck, then return my attention to the pussy dripping all over my fingers.
With extreme effort, I keep my touch featherlight as I learn her textures and contours.
All the while, I avidly watch the unmasked need and rising frustration on her face.
When she starts squirming and trying to push herself onto my fingers, I retract them completely.
Dark lashes part to annoyed slits. Her mouth forms a pout so endearing I almost forget my promise and kiss her.
“No sass right now, Princess. I have something else to say, and then I’ll give you what you want. Listening?”
She nods fast.
“The thought of you not being eaten out regularly—or enjoying it like you should—makes me want to break the bones of every man who’s ever touched you. It also makes me very, very happy because it means I’m the lucky bastard who gets to show you how worthy you are of pleasure.”
The doubt in her eyes melts away, every last defense crumbling. Wildness rises. Her storm crackles across my skin and sets my blood on fire.
I growl in satisfaction. “There’s my girl. The only thing you have to do now is feel.”
Curling my two middle fingers, I stroke purposefully, coaxing her open for me as I increase the pressure on her clit.
Finally, I dip the tip of one finger into her slick center.
She moans, her body clamping down, trying to pull me deeper.
The sensation echoes around my cock, and a shuddering breath hisses through my teeth.
“You really need me, don’t you?”
“Please, please.”
I add a second finger, sinking them a fraction deeper. Wanton music fills my ears. The towel loses its battle and slips off her right breast. Her pretty pink nipple is a flash point, evaporating my restraint.
As I suck her nipple into my mouth, I shove my fingers all the way inside her. She welcomes me like I knew she would, hot and tight and greedy.
“Oh god, oh fuck. River.”
I smile against her breast, circling and flicking her nipple with my tongue, and begin rocking her back and forth on my hand. Slowly at first, then faster and harder as her body tells me what it craves.
My sweet girl wants to be fucked through a bed.
Soon, love. Soon.
Releasing the back of her neck, I transfer my hand to her ass so I can guide the roll of her hips. Then I bury my face in the crook of her neck. After a sweet kiss, I bite the thick muscle.
Her hands fly to my forearm as her pussy tightens around my fingers.
“Yes, yes, don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
I don’t change a damn thing, just give myself over to the euphoria of witnessing—of feeling—her simultaneous victory and surrender.
She climaxes with a throaty, unguarded moan, her hips bucking, pussy clamping hard around my fingers. My jaw clenched against the exquisite agony in my cock, I pant against her neck as the pulsing inside her slows.
She sags against the dresser. “Holy shit.”
I drop soft kisses across her collarbone. “Gorgeous, perfect, sexy woman. Thank you.”
“I think I’m supposed to be thanking you.”
Gently extracting my fingers, I straighten and pop them into my mouth. My hum is sheer bliss as I lick up her release.
“Fuck, that’s hot,” she whispers. Her eyes dart between mine, then flicker down. “Do you want me to, um—”
“No.”
She stiffens slightly. “Oh. Okay. Well, thank you. That was amazing.” Ducking her chin, she starts to retie the towel over her chest.
Precious woman.
I slip my glasses off and place them on the dresser behind her, then cover her hands with mine. She looks up in confusion.
“Did you think we were done?”
“Um… yes?”
Grabbing the in-progress knot on her towel, I tug her toward me, then spin her around and start walking. A nervous laugh leaves her as she’s forced to shuffle backward.
“River? What’s happening right now?”
When we’re a few inches from the bed, I stop and shake my head chidingly.
“We aren’t done. I said I wanted to taste you, didn’t I?”
Her mouth slackens. “But I already…”
I stroke her pink cheek with my thumb. “You have two choices. You can get on the bed yourself and spread your legs for me, or I’ll help you. Either way, I’m eating your cunt until you come on my tongue. Unless—” I tilt my head. “I suppose there’s a third option. You can tell me to leave.”
She blinks a few times, then rips the towel off and throws herself onto the bed.
My laughter ends after one note, struck from my throat by a sight I’m not fully convinced is real.
Rue lies propped on her elbows, knees together, hair rioting around her face and framing her soft, trembling breasts. The curtain behind her is partially drawn, diffused sunlight haloing her head and lifting her irises to radiant sapphire.
A tide to her moon, I’m powerless against her lure. My shins meet the bed. I gaze down at her, my hands clenching as I fight the urge to fall on her like a beast.
“Show me.”
Her knees open slowly, thighs and calves flexing as her feet slide across the sheets.
A rough sigh leaves me.
Her pussy glistens, flushed a dusky rose from my hand and her orgasm. My mouth waters. My cock throbs. An agonized sound scrapes from my throat.
“Fuck me. So pretty.”
She shivers, knees trembling.
“We can. If you want.”
Her whisper stalls my inhale. Our gazes clash, and there’s nothing in her eyes but surrender and desire.
Some-fucking-how, I find one last thread of control.
“I do want—you have no idea how much. But today isn’t about me.”
She squeaks in surprise as I grab her ankles and drag her toward me. My knees hit the floor. I throw her legs over my shoulders, drive my hands under her ass, and lower my head.
A soft kiss on her inner thigh makes her jerk. Another closer kiss makes her body strain against my hold. I nuzzle her soft, dense curls, inhaling the ambrosia of her arousal.
She gasps. “Tease.”
I lick a slow path around her clit.
She whines, high and desperate.
“Mmm. I love that sound.” I flatten my tongue and drag it up her center with a groan. “You. Are. Delicious.”
She wiggles in my grip, trying to chase my tongue.
“Please, River.”
“Hands on my head, Princess. You’re going to need something to hold on to.”
Her nails glide over my scalp, eliciting a pleasurable shiver down my spine. I reward her with another long, slow lick. Her hips rock, and her fingers tighten—only slightly, though, telling me she’s still hesitant to take the control she craves.
Determined to dissolve her defenses, I squeeze her ass before releasing it to stroke her hips, her shaking belly, the outer curves of her breasts, all while I rub her with my closed mouth.
Up and down, back and forth. I kiss her inner thighs, the firm cords of tendon there, her mound, and every inch of satiny skin I can reach.
When I part my lips and blow softly against her clit, her hips quiver in my hands.
Her legs tense, pressing close to my ears.
And finally, she cracks.
Fingers clenching hard in my hair, she pulls my face into her. “For the love of god, fuck me with your tongue already.”
There she is.
I look up through my lashes, and I know she sees the smugness in my eyes when her own narrow.
“Lick. Me.”
I almost come in my shorts—and I do eventually, when she climaxes for the third time, shattering on my fingers and tongue as she cries my name like a curse.
After, I clean her gently with a warm, damp washcloth, murmuring praise and appreciation. By the time I finish, her eyes are closed. They don’t reopen when I adjust her on the bed and drape a blanket over her, though a soft smile stays on her lips.
I watch her for a while, memorizing the exact shades of her glowing cheeks, her flickering lashes, the freckled slope of her brow and bare shoulder. My scalp aches, my shorts chafe, and my tongue is mostly numb, but I’ve never felt as content or proud.
Even in sleep, Rue’s expression holds traces of the gift I gave her—that she gave me in return.
Rapture. Wonder. Relief.
Exactly as she deserves.