Page 39 of Scars of the Sun
Río used a finger to quickly push his glasses a few centimeters back up the bridge of his nose and immediately went back to his work. He shrugged, “Yeah. The ones I could reach, I did myself. The other shit, like on my back and stuff, I just designed then had someone else tattoo them.”
I hummed, entranced by Río’s tattoos once again and the way he was stroking his pencil against the page. The detailed crane feathers along his torso and the dragon scales along his spine took on a whole new weight.
The light streaming in from the windows was faint but more than enough for me to take in his studio apartment. Now, though, we were in the lofted area that contained his bed. The sheets and pillows smelled briefly of laundry detergent, butmuch more prominent was the wild, peppery scent that was Río’s.
A few more minutes passed, wherein I fiddled with the end of my braid and watched Río finish his butterfly illustration. With the final shadows that brought out the highlights that curved around the figure, he wrote in a neat and elegant script,D. Plexippus, pupal stage. Below that, a quick jotting of the date.
Satisfied, Río closed his sketchbook, which I now recognized from the coffee table stack downstairs, and turned to me. He brought a finger, the side of which had smudges from his artwork, to caress the height of my cheekbone. A watery depiction of my face reflected in his large, clear lenses, but there was no mistaking that he was looking right into my eyes.
“Are you okay? Physically, mentally, all that shit.”
I frowned, “Why wouldn’t I be?”
He shrugged and settled onto an elbow to mimic my posture, then resumed his barely-there tracing of my face. “A lot of people don’t care about their first time, but I wanted to make sure that I at least did right by you. I guess.”
The backs of my eyes prickled, a lump forming in my throat at his soft words, the crease between his brows that was so far from the quick jokes and jabs we so often exchanged.
I pushed myself up on to my hand, ready to scramble out of the bed. This was exactly what I didn’t want—him feeling like I was some charity case or pathetic virgin or, or?—
“Hey, hey. Cut that out.” Río’s command was soft but harder at the end, and he moved too quickly for me to block the arm that shot out and pulled me toward him. I melted while shoving at his shoulders as he flipped me onto my back, head hitting the pillow to release a rush of my scent mixed with his. Just that turned my physical protest into a curling of my fingers into his skin.
Río bent his head and bumped his nose against my top lip, once, then twice, before pulling back. “If we’re gonna fuck, you’re gonna have to be able to talk about this stuff. Got it?”
My chest rose and fell in large, expanding breaths, brushing against his bare skin. The back of my neck was beginning to heat with his demand and the bunched up hood of my sweatshirt beneath it. Why did we have to talk about it? Couldn’t we just—do it? It’d felt so good to be out of my head, to only concentrate on the sensations between us.
“Ramona? It’s either that or nothing. And I think you like my dick too much.” That got an incredulous, choked noise out of me, which just made him smirk like the asshole that he was.
Instead of taking my mouth, commanding with his tongue, Río pressed his lips to mine with the sweetest weight. With a tenderness that threatened tears and left me giving an embarrassing mewl when he pulled away to speak. “So. What’ll it be?”
I bit the inside of my cheek, wanting to fight him but finding it harder and harder to remember what I was protesting. “Fine.”
He kissed me again, this time with a slow heat that I felt in my chest. Only to have it spread down my belly, to my legs, and down my arms to the fingers that were now buried in his hair. The edges of his glasses bumped my cheeks, a cold line of metal and glass that was so different than the hot slide of his tongue against mine. I teased the barbell pierced through his tongue and earned myself a groan and the pressure of his hips against mine, rolling.
Before I could get my legs wrapped around him, he stopped again. “You didn’t answer my question.”
I huffed and let go of him, running my palms over my face that was certainly giving away my arousal and embarrassment all at once. Muffled beneath my hands, I snarked, “What the fuck do you think? I feel good, and I like your dick, okay?”
What was once an expectant smirk turned into a full on, shit-eating grin, and I wanted to punch him in the face. “Yeah? What about my tongue?”
“You are so arrogant—yes. I loved them both. Great experience, ten out of ten. Are you happy now?”
He rewarded my stupid vulnerability with a dragging of his tongue from the corner of my jaw to the crest of my temple. Frankly, it should have been gross, but the scratchy flesh and hard jewelry andpurrreally felt like a gift. In my ear, he whispered, “Was that so hard? I’m not a mind reader—I want to know how you feel.”
I rolled my eyes, though he couldn’t see them, “Whatever. Are we done talking now?”
“Aren’t you going to ask me what I thought of being in that sweet pussy for the first time?”
“Oh my god, you don’t stop, do you? I had no idea fuckboys did this much pillow talk. Fine, please, do tell.”
A dark chuckle coming from him wracked both of our bodies as he continued to hold me close. “Why, thank you for asking.” Río took the flesh of my earlobe between his front teeth, nipped, and followed the sting of his bite with open-mouthed kisses. When he spoke, it was with a deep rumble that had my breath catching. “I had to stop myself from tearing you apart. You were so fucking tight andperfect. Knowing I was the first one inside of you almost had me flipping you over and pinning you down.” Another bite and kiss on my ear, “And you taste better than candy.”
I was back to clinging to him, arms circling his shoulders while he kissed down my neck. When he settled in the valley between my throat and shoulder, instead of giving me the bite that my illogical instincts were screaming for, he latched onto my skin, licking and sucking out my soul.
My muscles tensed, anchoring him to me while he planted hickey after hickey, and I whined through my nose and tried to breathe.
A muffled growl rang beneath our pleasured panting and the sound of our bodies shifting against the fabric of his sheets. When Río pulled away for a third time, I actually groaned at the loss and flash of frustration. Somehow while I’d been asleep, my underwear found its way back on me—I wasnotgoing to think too closely about him dressing me before carrying me to his bed—and was now in the process of becoming completely soaked through.
“Wanna get food, Princess?”