Page 39 of The Rut in the Road

“Want you,” he rasped, the words a little slurred. Then he lifted his head, looking up at me, and his eyes were pure molten gold, the pupils wider than they should have been.

Maybe it should have frightened me, the fact that his teeth were sharp and his eyes inhuman, but it sent a thrill ripping through me that started in the center of my chest and went straight to my cock.

And then his hands slid down my back, and the sensation ofclawstore a shudder from me. He didn’t break the skin—he wouldn’t. Never would he break my skin. But he raised ridges, and it wasglorious.

“Yes.” The word came out as a breath, barely loud enough for me to hear.

He heard me.

Or, rather, I assumed he did, because he picked me up, those big hands under the backs of my thighs as he carried me out of the kitchen, across the main living space, and into the bedroom.

He lowered me to the mattress—I don’t know how because I wasn’t really able to pay much attention—and immediately covered my body with his, his mouth capturing mine as his fingers fumbled with the button on my slacks.

His fingers tugged at the zipper, then pulled at the waist of my slacks, then shoved impatiently at my underwear, his mouth having moved from mine to kiss and lick his way downmy throat. I sank my hands into the thick waves of his hair, shivering as his beard tickled against my skin.

He’d stripped me naked, and my skin felt both feverish and chilled at once as he licked and kissed down my chest before closing his teeth gently around one nipple. I gasped, fingers tightening in his hair as I arched my back, wanting more of his mouth anywhere and everywhere he wanted to use it.

His hands slid down my sides, the skin hot, his palms a little rough, the nails that were more claws than nails just skimming over my skin, leaving behind thin pink lines and a trail of goosebumps. I shuddered, my breath catching.

“Rayn,” he half-breathed, half-growled.

“Ra-aj,” I stammered back.

“Tell me I can taste you.” The words were a plea.

“Y-yes,” I managed.

Another growl, and he pushed my thighs apart, first nuzzling against me and drawing a deep breath, then closing his lips around my cock, causing my hips to buck at the heat and wet of his lips and tongue.

Not that I was objecting—I was definitelynotobjecting—but this was a fairly significant escalation of our physical relationship. It hadn’t even been two weeks since the first time he’d wanted to touch me in a way that was overtly sexual, not just tender or teasing. I almost had the ability to wonder why—but then Raj didsomethingwith his tongue and I stopped being capable of thought.

Everything became about heat and wet and a tugging, pulling sensation that sent electricity coursing throughout my body, following the pathways of my nerves. I whimpered a little as he did something else with his… tongue? teeth? I honestly didn’t knowwhathe’d done, but it made me forget everything but the sensation of his mouth.

My muscles trembled, my abs clenching.

“Raj—” I managed, warning him that I wasn’t going to last much longer if he kept doing what he was doing.

He pulled back, leaving me gasping.

“Rayn,” he rumbled, his lips back at my neck.

Incapable of speech, I let out some sort of sound as I pulled him closer to me.

“God, Rayn,” he breathed again, and I let out a mumbling noise, fumbling with the buttons on his shirt.

He didn’t spare his own shirt any more than he’d spared mine, the buttons rattling off the walls and floor. I immediately put my hands on his chest, running them over hot skin and ridges of muscle with just enough fat to make them smooth. Nothing about him was bony or angular, unlike me, all elbows and knees and raw ankle bones.

He was smooth muscle and dark skin and burning dark gold eyes.

I let my hands slide down his chest, finding the button on his black suit pants, then the zipper, hearing him let out a long breath with just a hint of rumble. I pushed at his shoulders, and he moved back until he was kneeling over me, a questioning look on his face.

I pushed at his pants, hooking both thumbs in the waistband of the black boxer-briefs he wore under them, dropping both around his thighs. I didn’t give him time to think about whether or not he wanted to take them off entirely, reaching to gently massage his balls with one hand.

Air rushed out of his lungs, and his eyes closed. “Fuck,” he hissed.

He wasn’t looking at me, so he didn’t see the smile that I felt move across my lips. I liked it when he let go, when he gave me control over his body.

“Take them off,” I told him, pleased when those molten eyes opened again, and he pushed himself to his feet long enough to strip out of both pants and underwear.