37. Rue #2
He rumbles a warning. “We’re not having sex for the first time in a tent, Rue.”
Turning toward him, I tangle my fingers in his hair and angle his head for more access to his neck. Between kisses, I whisper, “Yes, we are.”
He sighs my name.
I pull his hair harder.
He surges to his knees and spins, dropping me onto a sleeping bag. Hands planted on either side of my shoulders, he stares down at me. I feel the weight of his gaze as it travels down my body and back up. My hands hunt beneath the hem of his long-sleeved thermal, finding hot, hard muscle.
“I need you,” I whisper.
His chest stills, then heaves on his next inhale. “I… This isn’t what I wanted for our first time. I can’t be gentle right now.”
Grabbing his waist, I lift up to nip at his chin. “I don’t want gentle. I just want you.”
Before the last syllable leaves my mouth, he’s already turning to zip the door closed. Then he’s back and yanking my shirt over my head. My nipples tighten even more. Gooseflesh ripples down my arms, but I don’t feel the cold. I’m burning for him.
River rips my sweatpants and underwear down my legs, throwing them aside, then pulls off his shirt. I reach for the bulge in his sweatpants, but he snatches my hands and traps them above my head.
He looms over me, his fangs bared, long hair framing an expression so intense I might be concerned if he were anyone else. But I’m so turned on my thighs are already slick, my pussy throbbing. All I want is the world’s most perfect cock inside me.
“Last chance,” he grates out.
I arch my hips up. “Fuck me, River.”
Transferring my wrists into one hand, he yanks his sweatpants off his hips.
“Do you ever wear underwear?” I gasp out.
“Rarely.”
His voice is guttural as he grips my thigh, lifting and spreading me open for him. Fingertips graze my center, and he grunts in satisfaction when he discovers how wet I am.
Without warning, he drives two fingers inside me, pumping them at a devastating tempo.
A twist and curl of those fingers have me bowing off the ground, my mouth open in a silent scream.
I don’t realize he’s released my wrists until he squeezes my breast. His hot mouth closes over the peak.
He sucks hard, sending a bolt of searing heat to my clit.
“Oh fuck. More.”
A third finger pushes inside me, the burn lost in pleasure as the heel of his hand works roughly over my clit.
His bristled jaw scrapes over my chest as he devours my breasts, squeezing, sucking, and biting.
All the sensations meld together, compressing to a tiny, pulsating star.
I hang suspended inside it for an endless second, then detonate.
River swallows my hoarse scream, his tongue winding with mine as I buck against his hand.
“So goddamn beautiful.”
I’m still panting and twitching when he bites my lower lip, plucking my nipples at the same time.
The combined sting incites a need unlike any I’ve ever felt.
I drag my nails down his sides, gratified when he shivers.
Grabbing his firm ass, I pull him down. He drops to his forearms, his length trapped between us.
The weight of his body on mine is everything I knew it would be and more—an anchor of muscle and heat, a symphony of tactile contrasts, a sensory refuge of woods, citrus, and wind-whipped ocean.
The rightness of it, of him, settles inside me.
Everything beyond his broad shoulders becomes meaningless.
River’s hands cup my face; my fingers dig into the supple skin of his waist. Our lips tremble a millimeter from contact, each breath a shared effort.
I whimper as he rolls his hips, rubbing the base of his cock against my clit.
So soon after my orgasm, the pressure carries a sharp edge, but the discomfort only drives my need higher.
I hook my legs around his thighs and circle my hips as much as I can.
With a hum that vibrates through my chest, he obliges my unspoken demand.
His strokes become longer, harder. I moan at the first pass of unyielding metal.
His smile is slow and wicked. I raise my head to taste the curve of it, and my name floats from his mouth to mine.
I half expect him to ask me again if I’m sure, but when I suck on his tongue, his self-control fractures. Lifting his hips, he grabs his cock and rubs the thick, silky head over my clit until I’m mindless and begging, and finally, finally, notches himself against me.
His murmur tickles my lips. “Stay nice and relaxed for me. If it hurts, tell me, and I’ll take the piercings out.”
I nod. Our kiss deepens, turning wild as he pushes inside me. I’m so wet, so desperate, that what might have been painful is instead a glorious, profound stretch. I’m so full, the entirety of him so overwhelming, I don’t even feel the piercings.
For every inch he gains, he withdraws and sinks in again, and each thrust is more powerful than the last. By the time our bodies meet, I’m teetering on the edge of another orgasm and moaning continuously.
River’s arms flex as he pushes himself up. He pulls out almost entirely, then thrusts hard. When he bottoms out, he grinds his pelvis into my clit and hits a spot inside me that makes me see stars.
Then he does it again. And again. Between every thrust, his voice melts in my ears.
“You’re taking me so well… Making such pretty sounds for me… That’s my girl… Do you need more?”
“Yes.” I gasp. “Harder. More.”
River grabs my legs, folding them toward my body and pinning them under his arms as he covers me again.
He never stops moving and neither do I, our hips churning in a flawless, unfathomable rhythm.
I’ve never felt anything close to this with another person, like our physical boundaries have dissolved.
Our mouths a hairsbreadth apart, he whispers, “Forgive me.”
“For what?”
“I’m going to fuck you like I want to break you, and I’m not stopping until you’re full of my cum.”
My pussy clamps down in approval.
“Fuck. Like the sound of that, do you?” He licks into my mouth, hot and filthy. “Such a slut for me. So perfect. Mine.”
“Yours,” I whisper.
Nylon crinkles as he grabs the floor of the tent to anchor himself. His next thrust shakes my entire body and lands like a bomb on my clit. The next steals the scream from my lungs.
“Eyes on me, love.”
Thrust.
“You feel so fucking good.”
Thrust.
“I’m so grateful.”
Thrust.
“Fuck, you’re choking my cock.”
Thrust.
“That’s it. Give it to me.”
Thrust.
“Break for me, Rue. Say my fucking name.”
I sob it, my body taut and shaking violently as I come harder than I knew was possible. Just when I think I can’t take any more, he reaches between us and pinches my clit. I break all over again, clawing at his shoulders.
“Yesss, fuck. Made for me. My beautiful ruin.”
He falls into me, or maybe I fall into him.
My arms wrap around his neck. Our open mouths collide.
His thrusts grow rougher, faster, before his hips punch forward and still.
Every muscle above me tenses. The throb of his cock is tangible inside me, his raw, stuttering moan sweet nectar on my tongue.
Holding him tightly, I absorb as many details of this moment as I can.
Our slick, heaving chests. The tickle of his hair and the scrape of his jaw.
Our mingled scents, delicious and heavy.
The sensual glide of his hands across shoulders and down my arms. His flexing thighs under my heels as he rolls his hips lazily.
I collect them all and tuck them deep inside like tiny glowing pearls of treasure.
He nuzzles my nose.
“Feel it?”
My voice lost to the maelstrom of us, I answer him with a kiss.