43. Rue
rue
. . .
denouement (closure)
River carries me down a path I don’t see because I’m busy kissing every part of him my mouth can reach. A door opens and closes behind us. Wherever we are, the air is cool and smells sharply of pine.
I suck on his tongue. He stumbles, grunting as he bumps into something. Multiple small somethings clatter to the floor. He stumbles again, his hands flying to catch himself on a wall.
I tighten my legs around his waist and keep kissing him.
“Koala,” he mumbles.
“Tree,” I mumble back.
His lips curve as he navigates the space and lowers us to a soft surface. The moment my weight drops, I start grinding against his conveniently located, deliciously thick cock. He hums in approval, ripping off his T-shirt before divesting me of mine. My bra swiftly follows.
Before I can seal my lips back to his, the flex of his forearm arches my spine.
My wordless protest transforms into a moan as his hot mouth closes over my nipple.
He massages my other breast as he sucks and licks, then switches his efforts, moving back and forth until I’m whining and pulling his hair.
“You’re wound tight, aren’t you? If you ask nicely, I’ll gladly take care of all this tension.”
A breathless laugh escapes me as he repeats his proposition from the day we met.
“I accept.”
Soft, smiling kisses trail up my chest and throat. As his mouth reaches mine, he grips my hips and adjusts me in his lap, then reaches between my legs. A strident tearing sound and a rush of cool air across my inner thighs make me jerk back.
“You did not just tear out the crotch of my leggings.”
Golden eyes alight with laughter rise to mine.
“I totally did.”
“Monster.”
“You love it.”
“I totally do.”
Our smiles meet and soften for a kiss, broken by my gasp when his fingers dance across the thin boundary of my underwear.
“Mmm. Soaked for me.”
“Always.”
Planting my knees on the dark cushions to either side of him, I lift up and attack the button on his shorts. He takes care of the zipper, and we work together to pull his shorts past his knees. As I settle back on his thighs, my momentary curiosity about the unfamiliar couch we’re on vanishes.
River’s abs contract as I wrap both hands around his cock. When I squeeze, he grunts, his hips rocking upward. Stifling a grin, I move my hands from side to side, then in little circles.
“Rue.”
“Hmm?”
“It’s not a joystick.”
I grin pointedly; he huffs a laugh.
“Walked right into that one, didn’t I?”
“Sure did.”
Anchoring a hand at the back of my neck, he sweeps his thumb over my cheek. The look in his eyes is so tender, so adoring, a knot of emotion forms in my throat.
“Come here, Princess.”
I sway into a kiss of soft reverence that tumbles into one of messy, frantic hunger. He yanks my underwear to the side. I fit his cock against me, and without a single thought but having him inside me, I sink all the way down—Way. Too. Fast.
I bite my lip on a whimper that isn’t entirely pleasure. “Shit. Give me a sec.”
“Is it the piercings? Are they too much?” River searches my face in concern, his hands poised on my thighs like he’s ready to lift me off him. Not happening.
I shake my head. “Just overestimated my ability to take a punch to the cervix.”
His lips form a cute little O of shock before he grins. “I love you so fucking much.”
“Tell that to my cervix.”
The mirth in his eyes spreads, shaking his body with silent laughter. Since I’m attached to him, I shake too. The rocking motion elicits fiery currents of pleasure, incinerating my discomfort.
I kiss him hard. “Well done.”
His confusion only lasts as long as it takes me to lift up and lower back down. Then he’s groaning and moving with me—always with me. My anchor. My heart.
I hold him tighter, rock faster. He matches my rhythm effortlessly.
“Yes, Rue. Use me.”
It doesn’t take long for an immense, ecstatic heat to coil inside me. I tumble toward a dizzying precipice, but when I find the edge, I hang helplessly. Unable to fall.
“River…”
His name is a desperate plea for something I don’t have words for—but I don’t need them. With a powerful ripple of muscle, he moves us to the edge of the couch.
“Legs around my back, ankles locked. Mmm, perfect. Such a good girl for me.”
His hands move to my ass, supporting me as he spreads his thighs. As I drop slightly, he pulls me into him. The change of angle and depth is devastating. My vision tunnels until all I see are his eyes—lust-drunk, lovestruck rings of gold around pools of black.
“I love you, River.”
“I love you too, my sweet Ruin. Kiss me.”
As our lips meet and tongues clash, he guides my hips in a tight, sinuous circle. I gasp sharply, exhaling a wanton moan, and he answers with a growl so deep it’s a purr.
“So gorgeous like this. Stuffed full of my cock, shaking and whimpering for me. Let’s see if I can make you scream.”
Hands clenched possessively on my ass, he takes complete control, grinding me against him while he works his hips. The friction on my clit shoots stars through my blood on every pass, but it’s the internal pressure from his cock that drives me slowly but surely toward oblivion.
That coiling sensation returns tenfold, the approaching cliff now terrifyingly high.
“River, I… it’s too much. I can’t…”
His arms wind around my waist, drawing me impossibly closer. Our noses brush, then our cheeks, and finally our mouths. His rough whisper floats past my lips, dripping down my throat and into my heart.
“I’ve got you, Rue—always. I’ll catch you every time. Let go.”
The coil winds even tighter, smaller.
“Oh god. Yes, yes.”
“That’s my girl. Give it to me.”
My muscles petrify. My lungs seize. Reality condenses, then explodes into searing electric waves. I scream into River’s shoulder as I spasm around him. Short, powerful thrusts carry me over the crests, prolonging the pleasure until I’m a shaking wreck.
“Love the feel of you gushing around my cock. Love you gripping me like you’ll never let go. You want my cum in this perfect pussy?”
I gasp for air. “Yes. I want you dripping out of me all day.”
He hisses, his cock jerking. “Fuck. I’m the luckiest bastard in the world.”
I sink my fingers into his hair and take his mouth in a deep, sucking kiss. His control unravels, his hips punching up in erratic thrusts. I pull his hair, bite his lip, and clench around him.
“Oh fuck, fuck.”
He thrusts one more time, hard and deep, and comes with a low groan. As his cock throbs, he whispers between kisses how much he loves me. And I whisper the declaration back, over and over again.
We relax in increments, our sweat cooling, our kiss mellowing to a slide of lips and exchange of breath. I play with his hair, teasing my nails over his scalp; he caresses my back, circling and kneading.
When he stops, tensing slightly, I immediately know why. And for the first time in memory, I don’t flinch at the thought of someone touching my scars. They’re mementos of the past. Nothing more.
Holding his gaze, I reach behind me and guide his hands lower.
“It’s okay,” I whisper.
He swallows hard. Heartbeat thudding fast against my chest, he smooths his palms over the small patches of raised skin.
Tears glisten in his eyes. “So strong. So brave. So beautiful.”
Glowing warmth builds in my chest. As it spreads through my body, buoyant and energizing, I realize what I’m feeling.
Happiness.
And when I look over my shoulder a few minutes later, my happiness condenses into stinging pressure behind my eyes.
“Oh my god.”
River grunts as I jump off his lap, but I’m too distracted to say more than “Sorry” as I skirt around stray palettes and paint-smeared rags, drawn like a magnet to the tall easel in the corner of the room.
The displayed painting has River’s signature blend of expressionism and realism, but the tone and style are completely different from the rest of his work.
Halting a foot away, I stare, teary and transfixed. I don’t realize I’m shivering until River pulls his T-shirt over my head. His arms wrap around me from behind, warm and solid, and his chin comes to rest on my shoulder.
“H-how did you know he was blond?”
“No idea. I just did.”
I laugh weakly. “Magic.”
He kisses my shoulder. “Of course it is—it’s yours. What do you think? Did I get the maple right?”
The maple—my maple—dominates the vertical canvas. The background is perpetual dusk or dawn, faint stars shining, an unseen sun glowing behind the tree. In the foreground is a field of flowers.
On a branch near the top of the giant tree, a ray of sunlight illuminates two small figures sitting side by side.
Fearless. Smiling.
They wear daffodil crowns.