Page 38 of Scars of the Sun
“Don’t apologize,” he said with a hard twinge.
He didn’t give me time to respond, going back to eating me out for the first time in my life. Again, it wasn’t the unsatisfactory fumbling I’d expected to receive at some point in high school or at a frat party or something. Though I’d never tell him, I was glad that circumstances and my own disinterest in most people had led me into taking Río’s cock and his tongue as my first experiences with someone else. He certainly knewhow to use them, and the flash of jealousy was quickly erased as another wave made me curse.
If bouncing on Río’s dick ripped me apart, having him go down on me was melting me and putting my body back together. My mind, though, was even more messed up. How was I going to give him up when he left?
Río groaned, continuing with his expert movements, and a new sound had me cracking my eyes open. With a little tilt of my head, I saw his arm jerking and fist flying over his hard dick. My mouth dropped open, watching him jerk himself off while his face was buried between my thighs.
He looked up at me with those yellow and black eyes and speared his tongue into me, thrusting and swirling. Wetness dripped down on to the couch, but it didn’t even register as my hips moved in time with his tongue.
It didn’t take much longer for my pleasure to break, and I threw back my head again and screamed to the high ceiling. My thighs tightened and shook on his face, but Río didn’t seem to mind.
When my breathing slowed enough for me to relax and open my eyes, it was to the sight of him pressing little kisses on the inside of my legs. The scent of cum filled my nose, and I sat up on my hands. At the same time, Río released my feet to rest on the floor and pulled his shirt off. If I weren’t still trembling with aftershocks, I would’ve melted all over again with his naked torso and tattoo-covered skin in front of me.
He used his shirt to wipe off his hand, then the floor beneath us. Satisfied that he’d gotten it all, Río dropped the t-shirt and climbed onto the couch beside me. His hands snaked around my thighs and back, sitting me on his lap. He kissed the side of my neck, and I clung to him with a scoff. “You’re developing a bad habit of manhandling me.”
His chuckle was deep and lingering, which just made my frown grow as I leaned into the press of his lips. “But Princess,”kiss, “I know,”kiss, “that you like it,”kiss.
I sputtered, wanting to reject the notion but knowing my movements and scent would show me a liar.“That’s irrelevant.”
“Is it? Just say the word, and I won’t touch you anymore.” When I froze and didn’t say anything, he laughed again and gave the side of my hip a light spank. A bone-rumbling purr rolled out of him. “Youlikeit when I touch you.”
His hands were painting lazy circles over my back and on my still-naked lower half. My own rested lightly beside his heart. It was a steady, content beat. “No shit.” Like, though, was too weak of a word. My stomach flipped as a tiny voice in my mind spoke the truth. That Iwasthe pathetic virgin because I was already in love with him. How embarrassing. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”
Río’s touch paused and resumed almost immediately. The side of my face itched with his stare boring holes into my skin, but I was becoming used to it. If he was going to say something, he would.
It was odd, the lack of a record playing in the background. I’d gotten so used to the ever-present noise in such a short period of time, but the silence between Río and I wasn’t uncomfortable. With the way my body relaxed into him, it was what I needed.
We sat for a while, my head tucked into the curve of his neck, our breaths and heartbeats syncing, and sleep was coming over me like a warm blanket. I tried to fight it, but comfortable darkness closed in. And with Río beneath me, I let it in.
A deep, quiet serenity, like peering into the mouth of a familiar forest, startled me awake. But my body felt too languid, too good, to move more than a sleepy shuffling.
My fists tightened against the unfamiliar sheets, accidentally pulling at my own hair in the process. As I stretched my legs beneath the covers, my toes bumped against bare skin dusted with hair—a leg and the knot of an ankle. A light brushing sound filled my ears, as did the breath of the body beside me.
I cracked my eyes open and was met with faint, yellow light amidst the darkness that filled the rest of the room. With more purposeful blinks, further stretching of my limbs, the image of Río, bent over a large book, solidified.
He surely knew that I was awake, but I was content to take him in as my conscious mind finished percolating. The side of his face that was closest to me was cast in shadow, emphasizing the slight but strong curve along the bridge of his nose. The tender bow of his lips.
His long, black waves were plopped on top of his head in a messy bun, and his chest was bare. Admittedly distracted by the detailed artwork on his skin and the fluid peaks and valleys of his muscles, it took me some time to notice that he was… wearing glasses.
Not just that, but his eyes were moving quickly over the book while he swept a pencil back and forth on an ivory page.
“You okay, Princess?” he asked without looking away from what he was sketching. His voice wasn’t bogged down with sleep, so I guessed that he’d been awake for a while. Maybe he hadn’t gone to sleep at all.
My mouth tasted stale, and there was a low ache where he’d fucked me earlier, but it was more than manageable. I propped up on an elbow, testing the water before peering at what he was drawing. When he didn’t recoil or turn the sketchbook away from me, I risked it.
He was using a black pencil, holding it at a slant to shade the delicate silk of a chrysalis, full with the changing insect inside. I watched as he took finer, darker strokes that looked like some sort of pattern that ran on the wing curled within.
“Danaus plexippus, or the monarch butterfly,” he informed before I could ask. The image he’d drawn was in startling detail and took up the whole page. Like the sort of illustrations in my high school textbooks.
I had to try a few times to get words to form, but it was at least another minute or so before I was able to mutter, “It’s beautiful.”
Río reached beside him, where I couldn’t see, and came back to the page with a white eraser that he used to swipe away a few pencil strokes. He set back to sketching, emphasizing the transparent nature of the butterfly’s cocoon. “Thanks.” The corner of his mouth gave a little tilt, but it was me that blushed.
“Uh… do you draw a lot?”
“Yep, always have. Did most of my tattoos, too.”
“Holy shit—” my words came out louder than I’d intended, and I scrambled to whisper “—you did all of these?”