My hands move to his shoulders and I grip tight as I hum, roll my hips to drag him deeper, hum, fuck the most beautiful man in the world.
He wraps both hands around my tits, squeezes before flicking his thumbs over my nipples. I jerk and clench on his cock and he hisses.
“Yes, beauty. Fuck, yes! You’re so fucking good at that. So damn perfect. You see how well we fit together, Ruby?” His eyes search mine, demanding answers to questions I can’t decipher.
Or maybe I don’t want to.
Maybe fucking and humming is all I’m capable of right now.
Well, I can certainly ace both.
I pump my hips faster and switch the humming.
It takes a second but his eyes blaze when he recognizes the tune. The tune that made Riot Saints a worldwide phenomenon. The tune he wrote in his mother’s trailer when he was just seventeen.
Chains Like Kisses.
His dick swells inside me, a testament to how what I’m doing affects him. “Fuck, Ruby. Fuck…” His mouth swoops down, catches mine in a filthy, open mouth tussle that makes me drip, grow slicker around his cock, until a dirty squelching sound accompanies the slapping of flesh.
“Sing the chorus for me?”
He pulls back a fraction more, burns me with his gaze. “Only if you join me. Hum and come on my cock while I sing it. Yeah?”
My head bobs as pleasure whips me to shreds. “Yes, Zane. Please. I’m so close.”
“Go on three,” he rasps.
I start humming on cue and his beautiful voice joins in.
“Tie me down, make me beg—freedom never felt this sweet.”
We slow things right down, move intimately, magically with a rhythm more than a motion…a pulse between us that feels like a language.
And when the tempest hits, I throw my head back and I come like a broken faucet. Zane doesn’t roar when he comes, just grips me tight and pulses inside me, his heartbeat echoing my frantic one until we’re one sweat-drenched tangle of limbs and lyrics.
An eternity later, when he opens his eyes, the desperation there is holy. “Ruby… write me,” he says suddenly.
I blink. “What?”
“Write a story about me.” His voice drops even lower. “About us.”
My heart stumbles, half in yearning, half in dread. I haven’t forgotten what he did with the last thing we did together. And I don’t know if I’m ready for another public outing. “Zane?—”
“It’ll be anonymous,” he adds quickly, reading my fear. “For you. Only you.” His fingers curl around my jaw. “I want to see myself the way you see me. In your words. In your voice.”
I should say no.
Or laugh.
Or tell him this is ridiculous and intimate and dangerous.
But he looks at me like he’s asking for something he’s never asked anyone. Something raw. Something vulnerable.
“Okay,” I whisper. “Just for me. Just for us.”
He lets out a breath that sounds like relief and hunger mixed together.
“Good,” he says softly, pulling me closer, kissing my jaw, my cheek, my throat. “Now let me give you the rest of the story.”
