I look up at him from the floor. His head is tilted back, eyes half-closed, jaw tight, the scar on his cheek flushed. His chest heaves with every breath. He looks utterly undone.
It's a beautiful sight.
Chapter 8 - Havoc
I have been with women before.
Not many, not meaningfully, but enough to know what I'm doing and enough to have a point of comparison. Brief encounters in dark rooms with women whose names I asked for once and never used again. Functional. Physical. Gone before morning.
Nothing in my limited history prepared me for Ruby Lane on her knees in a break room looking up at me like I'm something worth having.
She's completely undone me.
I've been gripping this desk so hard for the last several minutes that I'm fairly certain I've left permanent indentations in the laminate, and I cannot bring myself to care about anything except the way her mouth feels. Warm and wet and absolutely relentless, and the sound she makes when she takes me deeper, this small determined sound that goes straight to the base of my spine.
She's not gentle. That's what's destroying me. I expected slow, expected careful, because Ruby moves through the world braced for impact, shoulders slightly hunched, always waiting for the next thing to go wrong.
But this Ruby, kneeling Ruby, looking-up-at-me Ruby, is not any of that at all. She's thorough. She's focused. She's got her hand working everything her mouth can't reach and her tongue doing things that have made my vision blur twice already, and when she gagged and kept going anyway, eyes watering, saliva at the corners of that gorgeous mouth, and didn't stop…
I nearly lost it right there.
I can feel it building now, the pressure gathering at the base of my cock, coiling tight, and she chooses this exact moment tolook up at me through dark lashes with those brown eyes and take me as deep as she can go, and my whole body shudders with the effort of not finishing immediately.
I grab her shoulder. "Ruby—stop—"
She doesn't stop.
"Ruby." My voice comes out broken. "If you, if you keep doing that I'm going to—"
I pull back before she can deepthroat me again, my cock sliding from her mouth with a sound that almost sends me over the edge anyway. I'm gasping. Actually gasping, leaning over her with one hand braced on the desk, trying to remember how lungs work.
She sits back on her heels, wipes the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand, and looks up at me with an expression of absolute calm.
"You okay?" she asks.
"More than okay." I swallow hard. "But if you'd kept going another ten seconds—"
"You'd have cum?" She tilts her head, and the smile that crosses her face is something I've never seen from her before. Knowing. Confident. Devastatingly beautiful. "Would that be an issue?"
I look down at her on her knees on a break room floor, my cock still wet from her mouth, her hair half-escaped from its tie, and I make a sound that might be a laugh. An actual laugh, rough and real.
"Yeah," I tell her. "It would be a problem."
"Why?"
"Because I haven't fucked you yet."
Her lips part. She stares at me for exactly two seconds.
"What are you waiting for?" she says.
I move.
I'm not graceful about it. I reach down and pull her up from the floor. My hands find her apron strings first. I yank it loose and drop it somewhere, then her tank top, pulling it up over her head.
And then I stop, because I need a moment.
Her bra is plain black, and the curves spilling over the top of it are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. The beauty marks scatter across her collarbone like I already knew they would, like I've been thinking about them since yesterday, a constellation I want to map with my mouth at some point when we have more than ten minutes.
