Burne held up a hand. “Never mind that. My son is a grown man. If he had the spine of one, he wouldn’t come running to me over every conflict. So let’s pretend I don’t know, since I shouldn’t.”
Evan tried to hide the shock on his face, but probably failed.
With a nod, Mr. Burne walked past Evan and down the corridor. In seconds, he’d disappeared into the stairwell.
Leaving Evan to face Ruth.
Suddenly, the things he’d wanted to say—the careful words he’d planned on his way home, about how he knew everything, and he didn’t care, and he understood—were nowhere to be found.
Fucking Burnes. A scourge, the lot of them.
To his surprise, Ruth stepped out of her doorway and came toward him. She spoke first, without prompting. He almost collapsed in shock.
“Evan,” she said, her voice hesitant. “I—I don’t want you to think that—”
“It’s okay,” he said. She looked so worried, his heart constricted in his chest. In two strides, he closed the gap between them. He wrapped his arms around her and expected her to stiffen at first—even to pull away—but she didn’t. Not for a second. Her arms slid round his waist, and her head fell against his chest, and everything was perfect.
For a while, they stood there, breathing in synch, and Evan felt more peaceful than he ever had in his life. Then he felt Ruth’s hand slide beneath the hem of his T-shirt. She didn’t do anything, really. She just pressed her palm against his back, against his bare skin, and left it there.
But that, apparently, was enough to make Evan hard. Then again, it never did take much around Ruth.
She laughed, a husky chuckle whose vibrations he felt in his chest. Then, tilting her head back, she looked up at him. “I can feel that, you know.”
Evan smiled ruefully. “Sorry. Ignore it.” Even as he spoke, his fingers trailed over the back of her neck. Her skin was softer than silk.
She exhaled, the kind of long, heavy breath that spoke volumes. Then she said, “I don’t want to ignore it.”
He looked down at her for a moment, his mind scrambling. Then finally, thankfully, he scraped together enough wits to choke out, “We should go inside.”
“Yes,” she said. “Let’s.”
Ruth hadn’t felt powerful in a while. Years, actually. It was exhilarating. It was fantastic. It was also, somehow, arousing.
Or maybe that was just Evan.
She dragged him into her flat by his T-shirt, hoping she wouldn’t bang into the door or fall over or something equally embarrassing when she was trying her best to be sexy. She was capable of being sexy. As long as she avoided unfortunate incidents.
Clearly, God was on her side, because they made it over the threshold without issue. Maybe He thought she deserved some dick. That was probably it.
Evan slammed the door shut without a backward glance. His eyes never left her. In fact, they devoured her, hungry and insistent, and Ruth realised that the way he usually looked at her was nothing. It was restrained, controlled.
This was something else entirely.
The knowledge that he wanted her, and badly, was enough to send liquid heat pooling between her legs. And she wanted to give him that same feeling, that heady drunkenness of being desired, even if it went against her every instinct.
So Ruth swallowed down her nerves and put her hands on his chest, pushing him back against the door. Even though she wasn’t strong enough to move him, he pretended as if she was, falling back against the polished wood with a sharp exhalation.
Licking her lips, Ruth looked down at the growing bulge in his jeans.
“Ruth,” he murmured, drawing her eyes back to his face. “I need you to say something.”
She nodded. “Something like, I want to suck your cock?”
He blinked. “Um... I… I meant something like, ‘This is fine’. But that’s great. That’s fantastic. Please, continue.”
Despite Ruth’s commitment to sexiness, laughter burst from her lips. “Thank you for the invitation.”
“Oh, you’re welcome. Now, before you get too distracted…” He reached out, catching her hand in his, and tugged her forward. Closer, closer, until she was forced to slide her hands around his neck, until he could wrap an arm around her waist. “We were interrupted,” he murmured. “The other day. But—remind me—did you say that I could kiss you?”
Ruth took a breath and rose up onto her toes, sliding her body against his. Everything about him was hard, strong, perfect. He brought up a hand to cup her face, the pad of his thumb rubbing her lower lip.
“Talk,” he said gently. “Remember?”
She nodded. “Kiss me.”
His eyes darkened. The arm around her waist tightened. He pushed his thumb slightly into her mouth, parting her lips, and she bit down. When he let out a tight little breath, Ruth’s confidence grew—or rather, she forgot to think about confidence or nerves or anything at all. She sucked where she’d just bitten, and Evan actually moaned.
It was a quiet sound, deep in the back of his throat, but she heard it and she wanted more. Ruth sucked his thumb harder, and he flashed a dark smile. “You like things in your mouth, kitten?”
She released his thumb with a pop. “Some things more than others.”
With a low growl, Evan bent his head and kissed her.
The tip of his still-wet thumb dragged down Ruth’s lower lip, nudging her mouth open as he tasted her. He licked at Ruth’s tongue, somehow gentle despite the pressure of his hand on her face, the way he held her still and devoured her. His lips were so soft against hers, his beard tickling her cheek, and she felt caution in the way his arm cradled her waist.
But when it came down to it, his mouth was demanding. He was demanding. Ruth was finding that she very much enjoyed being obviously wanted. It wasn’t exactly something she’d experienced before.
When he pulled away, he didn’t really pull away at all. He still held her body against his own, still cradled her face with one hand, and let his brow rest against hers. But their lips finally parted, and he dragged in breaths as if he’d been submerged under water. She did too. For a moment, all that existed of the world was the shadowed little space between them, where air was shared and bodies were connected.
“That,” Evan finally rasped, “was worth the wait.”
And Ruth, who must have been possessed by some sex-crazed demon, murmured, “This will be too.” Then she reached between them and tugged at his jeans.
Because he knew her well, Evan gently moved her hands and deftly undid the buttons. Then he put her hands back, as if she needed encouragement.
She yanked the fabric down, and he sucked in a breath and leant back against the door, watching as if hypnotised.
She was impatient, she realised. Had been for a while and hadn’t even known it. For a moment, as she hooked her thumbs beneath the waistband of his boxers, she wondered: could she really need him this desperately?
Then she dragged the boxers down his muscular thighs, and saw the thick, dark length of his cock, and decided that yes, she fucking could.
She wrapped a hand around him, hummed a moan at the velvet feel of him, then squeezed. He was iron-hard. She could smell his skin, raw and natural and warm. She felt dizzy.
He slid a hand over her neck and said, almost absently, “You’re perfect.”
She scowled. “Shut up.”
“Make me.”
A reluctant smile curving her lips, she leaned up and kissed him again. His cock in her hand, his tongue in her mouth, Ruth kissed and stroked and moaned and felt. From the energy pulsing in her clit, in her nipples, to the empty ache between her legs, to the scorching heat of his flesh against her palm.
He was vulnerable because of her. He was standing there with his jeans around his ankles, with his cock in her hand, ready to do whatever she wanted—to take whatever she wanted—and the thought tipped Ruth well past patience. She broke the kiss, ignoring his wistful moan, and sank to her knees.
&nbs
p; Evan watched with lust in his eyes, his tongue sliding out to wet his lips. She’d expected him to offer token protests, to pretend she couldn’t want to swallow his cock whole, but of course he didn’t. Because he knew this was exactly what she wanted. He’d made sure.
She wondered if he also knew that she was embarrassingly aroused, her nipples tight and her pussy slick, just at the sight of him half-dressed before her.
Probably, she decided. A man couldn’t look like him and suffer from a lack of knowing.
She’d wanted to take her time. She’d wanted to trace her thumb over the fine veins mapping his rigid length, play with the pearlescent drop forming at its tip, feel the impossible velvet hardness against her cheek.
But then he pressed a hand to her face. He looked down at her with something far too soft in his eyes, and held her far too gently, his thumb tracing her cheekbone.
So she had to lean in, had to run the flat of her tongue along his length, from root to tip. And it worked. His hand slid back to her neck, and he groaned. His head fell back, and his eyes screwed shut. “Ruth,” he panted, his hips jerking. “Yes. God, yes.”
The sound of her name on his lips was easier to handle than the adoration in his eyes. She’d have to get used to the latter, she thought. But she was kind of looking forward to doing so.
I want to take everything you have to give, and I want to think that I deserve it.
She licked him again.
23
Evan had intended to come home and have a talk with Ruth. A mature, serious talk that culminated in him asking some schoolkid shit like, Will you be my girlfriend? and her laughing in his face but saying yes.
What good intentions he’d had. And now here he was, trying not to disgrace himself while she lapped pre-come from the swollen head of his cock.
He couldn’t quite feel bad about it.
Evan snatched in a breath as Ruth’s lips wrapped around his length, hot and soft and wet. Her tongue slid out to massage the underside of his erection, and then she sucked him slowly into her mouth. He forced his eyes open, even though sheer ecstasy made his lids heavy. She was too beautiful to miss.
Her hands were squeezing his thighs, her short nails digging into him. He didn’t mind. He didn’t mind at all. Evan watched as his cock disappeared into her mouth, inch by inch, and felt the pull of her lips at the same time, and could have passed out from the pleasure. When he felt the impossible pressure of her throat, he almost choked.
Something drove him to press a hand to her neck, beneath her chin. He felt her muscles relax, expand as she swallowed him.
“Fuck,” he gritted out. “Holy shit, Ruth.”
She made a sound he couldn’t decipher, but when she looked up at him with dancing eyes, he knew she was laughing. Or trying to. She couldn’t quite manage it with his cock filling her mouth.
When her nose brushed against his belly, and she sucked in the last inch of him, Evan realised that he was biting his own fist hard enough to leave marks behind. He had to, just to maintain the last scraps of his control. To stop himself from bucking against her, from fucking her mouth.
After a few seconds of perfect, oh-fuck-yes pleasure, she pulled back. His length slid from her lips, glistening wet, and she gasped as she caught her breath. Then, before he could ask if she was okay, she took him hungrily back into her mouth.
“Jesus,” he growled as she sped up the pace. “Jesus Christ, you’re so fucking—ohhh shit.” He watched her slide back and forth along his near-painful erection, her eyes fluttering shut, her low moans sending vibrations along his cock and up his spine. He couldn’t stop his hands from cradling her face, sinking into the softness of her hair, even as he chastised himself.
He didn’t do things like this. He didn’t give into his urge to rut against a woman’s face, to use her mouth, even if his balls were tightening and his vision was blurring, and his lust was an uncontrollable beast.
But Ruth pressed a hand over his, as if encouraging him. He looked down and realised that she’d slid her other hand beneath her waistband, that she was touching herself. His knees almost buckled. Evan sagged back against the door and pressed a hand to the wall for support.
Christ, he wanted her naked. He wanted to watch as she played with her own pussy for him, as she came with his cock in her mouth. He wanted to see her cunt wet and soft and wanting him.
“You like this,” he grunted, his hips jerking as she sucked him deep.
She moaned again, her eyes meeting his, her tongue working him expertly.
“I want you to come,” he said. He didn’t recognise his own voice. It was harsh, commanding, nothing like him, but it tumbled from his lips anyway and it seemed right. “I want you to come,” he repeated, firmer now, “and then I want to fuck you.”
She shook her head slightly and pulled back, releasing him. “In my mouth,” she breathed.
If he hadn’t been desperate before, he was now. The sight of her gleaming, swollen lips, the sound of her breathless murmur—it was all too much. She sucked him again and he gave in. He tightened his grip on her hair and thrust, holding her still as he pumped into her, gritting his teeth as the hand beneath her waistband moved faster.
When she came, squeezing her eyes shut, her throat seemed to tighten around him. He felt the vibration of her long, drawn out moan, and he let go. Sensation danced along his spine as he groaned out his release, holding her tightly against him, burying himself. She clutched his thighs and swallowed everything he gave her.
Completely drained, Evan ran a hand over his face. His skin was hot, sweat gathering at his brow as if he’d run a damned marathon. He found himself grinning from ear to ear, which wasn’t really surprising. He might’ve just had the best orgasm of his life.
Ruth started to rise. In the interests of efficiency, Evan simplified the process and picked her up.
She gave a very un-Ruth-like shriek, followed by a reassuringly Ruth-like scowl. “What are you doing?”
Evan clasped his hands beneath her arse and tried not to look too smug when her legs tightened around his hips. “Nothing.”
“Oh, really?” She glared at him, her nose an inch from his. “It’s just, looking you in the eye is usually harder than this.”
“You never look me in the eye anyway.”
“Incorrect. I look you in the eye at least once a day. It’s disgracefully intimate.” Her lips were pursed, her eyes dancing. She was smiling his favourite kind of smile, the one that didn’t seem like a smile at all.
Evan kissed the corner of her mouth softly. He’d thought he loved that mouth before; now he was ready to pay it tithes. “You’re in a good mood. I don’t suppose—”
“It has nothing to do with you,” she cut in primly. “So don’t be smug.”
“Nothing?” He grinned. She huffed. He leant against the door and readjusted his hold on her, because she didn’t seem to mind the fact that he was essentially grabbing her arse.
So he might as well really enjoy it.
“Maybe it has something to do with you,” she admitted. “Slightly. Perhaps.”
“Perhaps.” His smile grew wider.
“Perhaps. By the way,” she added, her brow furrowing. “Why did you text me? I mean, did you want something?”
“Aside from this?”
She snorted. “If you’re trying to say that you rushed home from work for a blowjob—”
“To see you,” he corrected. “I rushed home from work to see you. I wanted to talk.”
“About?”
Evan tried to remember the way he’d been going to say things and failed. He’d been aiming for something approaching a romantic declaration, but not romantic enough to make Ruth choke on her own spit. Or hit him and run away. Then again, she seemed unusually receptive to gentleness right now. Apparently, orgasms loosened her up.
“Well,” he said slowly, “It’s funny, what with Burne being here and all, but I actually wanted to tell you that, well, that I know about Daniel, and I do
n’t care.”
She blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“He, um…” Evan searched for a simple way to explain. “He and I had a disagreement at work today.”
Ruth had become very still, very stiff and upright in his arms. “A disagreement about what?”
“You, I suppose.”
The last scraps of contentment faded from her expression. “Are you taking the piss?”
“No. I—”
“Put me down.”
This was not going well, but then, he hadn’t expected it to. “Why?”
“Put me down,” she repeated, “and put your bloody dick away.”
He sighed. “Whatever you want.” Letting go of Ruth felt like throwing away a vital organ, but that was silly. She was still right there in front of him, glaring in a comfortingly familiar manner. Evan yanked his clothes into place but didn’t bother to zip up his jeans. “You’re upset. Do you want me to keep talking, or do you want to rant?”
“Keep talking,” she said, “and I’ll rant when you’re done.”
“Okay. I guess that girl we bumped into—his sister-in-law? Told him that she saw us together. Or maybe it was the plumber. Or maybe it was both. Anyway, he was pissed. And I realised that…” Evan sighed. “He’s jealous. Right? He sent the flowers. He’s your ex.”
Ruth wasn’t looking at him anymore. She was looking at the wall, her face as blank as the clean, magnolia paint. “You realised. You just… realised.”
“Yeah. I don’t know why I didn’t figure it out before.”
She looked at him sharply. “Why would you figure it out before?”
Evan had the feeling that he was heading into dangerous territory, but he couldn’t tell if the ground would fall out from under him, or the walls would close in around him, or something else entirely. He didn’t know where to look for the threat. “Well… he always told me to stay away from you. He was so fucking smug when I found out about his car. He—”
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