Page 121 of River & Rue

She grabs the bottle, almost dropping it in her haste, and squeezes the thick white contents all over my cock. When her hand wraps around me, I cover it with mine and increase the pressure and speed of her strokes. Those wicked fingers curl and start massaging.

“As hard and rough as you want. Take it from me like you own me.”

She does.

Within seconds, I have to release her hand and brace both of mine on the wall above her. Lashes fluttering, her heated stare roams my face before lowering. She lingers on my abs, watching them contract and release with undisguised fascination. I groan as she increases the speed of her strokes, her palm twisting over my piercings on each pass.

“Feels so good. So good. Don’t stop… oh fuck.”

Prickling heat races inward and explodes at the base of my cock. My hips buck wildly, my cock jerking and painting her stomach with cum. A fragmented sound surrounds us—me, whimpering. It’s a miracle my knees don’t give out.

Rue languidly milks the last of my release, her smile the epitome of self-satisfaction. As my head slowly returns from its detour to outer space, I drag tingling fingertips across her stomach.

“Best art I’ll ever make.”

“Best sounds you’ll ever make.”

I smile softly. “Congratulations. You’re the first person to make me sound like a wounded animal.”

She laughs.

Resisting the urge to gather my cum and put it inside her, I sweep my fingers across her stomach one more time before shifting so the water can wash it away.

Rue’s hands cup my face, and I lift my head in anticipation of a kiss. When she grins and smooshes my cheeks instead, all I can do is blink at her.

“Perfect timing.”

She boops my nose and steps out of the shower. It takes my sluggish brain a few more seconds to understand what she meant by timing.

The water on my back goes cold.

40

rue

​. . .​

the tragedy of time

Sitting in a towel on the edge of my bed, I laugh to myself as I listen to River shower as fast as he can. A bottle hits the tub with a dull thwack. He curses. Ceramic squeaks under his feet.

“Payback is coming, Ruin!”

When I hear his teeth chattering, my smile congeals. I’m not afraid of his retribution—quite the opposite—but I do feel a little guilty. I know exactly how freezing that water is.

The shower shuts off and the curtain screeches. My heart races with anticipation. I grab the edges of my towel, prepared to throw it off as soon as the bathroom door opens, then stiffen at the sound of multiple sets of feet crossing the porch.

Voices float through the kitchen’s open window.

“What if she’s sleeping?”

Dan.

“She’s not sleeping.”

Maya.

“River’s in there.”