Page 97 of River & Rue

“Please, River.”

“Hands on my head, Princess. You’re going to need something to hold on to.”

Her nails glide over my scalp, eliciting a pleasurable shiver down my spine. I reward her with another long, slow lick. Her hips rock, and her fingers tighten—only slightly, though, telling me she’s still hesitant to take the control she craves.

Determined to dissolve her defenses, I squeeze her ass before releasing it to stroke her hips, her shaking belly, the outer curves of her breasts, all while I rub her with my closed mouth. Up and down, back and forth. I kiss her inner thighs, the firm cords of tendon there, her mound, and every inch of satiny skin I can reach. When I part my lips and blow softly against her clit, her hips quiver in my hands. Her legs tense, pressing close to my ears.

And finally, she cracks.

Fingers clenching hard in my hair, she pulls my face into her. “For the love of god, fuck me with your tongue already.”

There she is.

I look up through my lashes, and I know she sees the smugness in my eyes when her own narrow.

“Lick. Me.”

I almost come in my shorts—and I do eventually, when she climaxes for the third time, shattering on my fingers and tongue as she cries my name like a curse.

After, I clean her gently with a warm, damp washcloth, murmuring praise and appreciation. By the time I finish, her eyes are closed. They don’t reopen when I adjust her on the bed and drape a blanket over her, though a soft smile stays on her lips.

I watch her for a while, memorizing the exact shades of her glowing cheeks, her flickering lashes, the freckled slope of her brow and bare shoulder. My scalp aches, my shorts chafe, and my tongue is mostly numb, but I’ve never felt as content or proud.

Even in sleep, Rue’s expression holds traces of the gift I gave her—that she gave me in return.

Rapture. Wonder. Relief.

Exactly as she deserves.

33

rue

​. . .​

fast forward

Maya flops onto my bed with a dramatic groan, sending my empty water bottle rolling toward the edge. I grab it before it falls, then continue frowning at the oversized camping backpack I’ve been trying—and failing—to shove an extra sweatshirt into.

The only reason I’m going on this camping trip is because of a deal I made with Maya. If I finished my book, I had to go. I didn’t think it was realistic at the time, but I surprised myself. Yesterday, I typed The End and sent the manuscript to my editor.

“Tell me you’ve kissed, at least?”

“We haven’t.” Avoiding her eyes, I quickly change the subject. “Do you think I’ll be okay with just one sweatshirt and a long-sleeved thermal? Kirk said it gets pretty cold at night.”

Flipping onto her stomach, she stares me down.

“Very scary.” I hold up my sweatshirt. “Do you have room for this?”

She huffs and shakes her head. Tossing the sweatshirt aside, I grab an extra pair of socks I probably don’t need and shove them into the top of the bag. Then I pull them back out.

“Maybe I should pack another sports bra.” I spin on my heel and head for the dresser.

“You’re killing me,” Maya whines. “I’ve been waiting for the next chapter for over a week, only to find out nothing has happened between you since the Afternoon of Oral Delights?”

I’m glad I’m not facing her so she can’t see me flinch.

“I wouldn’t say nothing,” I murmur as I pick through my underwear drawer.