Loving Ruby: The Riverstone Series Book 2 - Standalone

by Roya Carmen

  He’s wearing a striking two-piece dark suit with a striped white shirt and a silky red tie. He’s clean-shaven, his hair in its usual style – neatly parted to the side in a luscious wave. His beautiful lips seem darker than usual, begging to be kissed.

  “You look amazing,” I tell him.

  His smile is bashful when he says, “Thank you. I have something planned.”

  And there they are again… those pesky little butterflies in my stomach. I want to ask, but I know August – he won’t tell me until he’s ready.

  “Come in,” he urges. “Take off your jacket.”

  I peel off my coat and hand it to him, then I take off my tall leather boots.

  As we make our way to the kitchen, I trail behind him and admire his backside in his gorgeous dark suit.

  “Would you like a glass of wine?” he asks. “I’ve got quite a selection.”

  I’ve never had wine with him before, but I like the idea of getting drunk with him. And it’s my birthday after all. “I’ll take a glass of red, please.”

  I take a seat at the large island in the gorgeous gourmet kitchen – it never ceases to amaze. Even though I’m not much of a cook, I can’t help but appreciate it. I suspect Amber would go wild in this kitchen. She’d fall into a muffin-and-cookie-baking stupor, I’m sure.

  He opens the door of his wine fridge. “I have a pinot noir and a shiraz open.”

  I couldn’t care less what wine I gulp down as long as I get some alcohol in me. For some reason, I’m on edge. I just want to know what he has up his sleeve. “The shiraz sounds good.”

  As we enjoy our wine, I finally dare to ask him the question pressing on my mind. “So what are you up to, Mr. Hyde?” I’m being playful, trying to mask my curiosity.

  He smiles. “Not that much actually, but I do have something for you.”

  My ears perk up. “Yes?”

  “Come, follow me.”

  I try to match his long stride as we walk briskly past his office, and I wave a quick hello to Miko. We finally reach our destination – my little office. I spot them on my desk right away – three white boxes trimmed in red ribbon. They sit at the centre of my desk, stacked neatly: one small, one medium, and one large box. My heart nearly leaps out of my chest at the sight of them.

  I bounce over to my desk. “Wow! You didn’t have to, August.”

  He smiles, hands in pockets. God, he’s sexy in his suit. I don’t know what I want more: to rip into those gifts or to rip into him by tearing that gorgeous suit right off.

  “Open them,” he urges softly.

  I slide my finger along the red silk ribbon, wanting to prolong this delicious feeling of anticipation. I start with the smallest box, which sits at the top. I pull the ribbon and undo the bow. As I rip the plain white wrapping, I shoot a look at him. He’s watching me intensely. I open the box slowly, savouring every second. This is a moment I’ll remember forever. With no photos taken, no video captured, my heart will hold this moment forever. When I’m old and dying and smile back at all the beautiful moments in my life, I’ll remember this – my twenty-seventh birthday, three white boxes, and August looking absolutely dashing. No matter what happens between us, I’ll always have this moment.

  It’s a blue box from Tiffany’s, so I know it’s jewellery of some kind. I’m giddy, and my breath hitches when I open it and see a pear-shaped ruby hanging from a white gold chain.

  “It’s beautiful,” I whisper, emotion stealing my breath.

  He inches closer. “I know it’s not your birthstone, but I thought it was rather fitting.”

  “It’s perfect,” I say. “I don’t have a ruby necklace.”

  He smiles, seemingly happy with this news. “May I?” He gently takes the box from my hands.

  I nod without a word. He pins me with his gaze and makes me melt. He’s so powerful. With just a look or a word or two, he has the power to absolutely dissolve me.

  He pulls the necklace from its box, and as I watch his hands, I’m reminded of all the times he’s touched me. I close my eyes. I can’t tear myself away, but I need to. He hasn’t hurt me yet, and I know he doesn’t want to. He’s a good man. But he will. He most definitely will if I let him in.

  He steps just behind me, and I relish his unique scent. Why does he have to be so sexy? Everything about him turns me on – his smell, his voice, his eyes, his lips… his hands.

  He lays the ruby against my chest. “Pull your hair up for me, Ruby.”

  I reach for my hair and twirl it against the back of my head. As he works the clasp of the chain, his fingers lightly graze the nape of my neck, and a delicious tingle travels the length of my spine. I want him to touch me so badly, but I can’t let him. I need to open these gifts then be on my way. I need to maintain a professional distance. I probably need to look for another job too. My heart is heavy when I turn to him.

  He assesses me, and a smile curves his lips. “Beautiful.”

  “Thank you. You shouldn’t have. I’m just your employee. You shouldn’t be giving me expensive gifts like this.” I know the man is wealthy and for him, this isn’t a big expense, but I still think it’s too much.

  “Nonsense.” He closes the distance between us. “You know you’re more than my employee. You’re my friend, you’re…” He doesn’t seem quite able to find his words. “So much more.”

  He wants to kiss me. I can see it in his eyes. His dark gaze is fixed on my mouth. It pains me to do so, but I turn my face away. I can’t kiss him right now. I plaster on a smile. “Can I open the others?” I ask cheerfully.

  He smiles, but I spot disappointment in his expression. “Yes, please go ahead.”

  I bounce back to the desk like a giddy six-year-old and grab the medium-sized box. This time, I don’t take my time. I tear right into it. It’s another Louboutin box. I’m giddy when I pull off the lid. When I catch a glimpse of the shoes, I’m absolutely speechless.

  I look at him, and I can’t quite find the ability to speak and actually thank him. These heels might be the most amazing shoes I’ve ever seen. They’re made of a shimmery translucent fabric covered with sparkly diamond-like crystals, and they have the trademark red sole of course. The heels are tall but not crazy. They’re perfect and too beautiful to actually wear with anything I own. I have no clue where or when I’ll ever wear these.

  “They’re vintage, never worn, size 37,” he says. “They should fit…”

  I smile. “You want me to put them on, don’t you?”

  His smile manages to be both bashful and playful. “I’d love it.”

  I hold one of the shoes, inspect it carefully, and run a finger against the glossy skinny heel and along the mesh diamond-studded fabric. I take a seat at my desk, rip off my socks, and slip on the heels. He was right… they fit perfectly, and they look fabulous.

  I stand and twirl once or twice. They look kind of cute paired with my tight black leggings. He stares silently and bites his bottom lip, his eyes fixed on my legs and feet. I can tell he’s aroused, and the thought of exciting him arouses me too.

  “They look a little silly with these leggings,” I say shyly.

  “I disagree. They look very sexy…” he says, not taking his eyes off me.

  I feel his stare so intensely… I feel it between my legs as a painful and delicious pressure. I love it and I hate it. Damn, I don’t want to feel like this. I just want to open the gifts, leave his house, and go rub one out in the comfort of my bed. That’s still the plan when I turn away from him.

  “Last one,” I cheer. “I saved the biggest one for last.”

  “I can’t wait to see this one on you.”

  “Oh…” I reply, intrigued. “So it’s also something I wear…”

  I tear into the large box. It’s a black box with gold-leaf printing – a name I don’t recognize. When I shimmy off the top of the box, I find silver gift tissue secured with a pretty gold sticker. It’s almost a shame to rip it all up. But when I do, I find the most stunning pleated re
d silk bodice with soft frilly trim. The overhead lights shine upon it, and the shimmery fabric seems to dance. I pull the evening dress from the box, still in awe. It’s absolutely stunning.

  “I had it hemmed,” he says. “And thankfully, I’m somewhat familiar with your body. I think it should fit perfectly.”

  I turn to him, still in shock. “This is not just a dress. This is a gown. Where will I ever wear this?”

  He smiles. “You don’t have to go far to wear it. Why don’t you try it on right now? I’m dying to see if it fits.”

  I bite my lip, thinking that I will possibly die if it doesn’t fit. “Just a minute.”

  As fast as the heels will let me, I rush off to the large powder room near my office. My heart pounds when I close the door. This dress will definitely be displayed on my fashion form. My mother’s vintage Chanel suit will just have to go in my closet. I pull off my leggings in a frenzy, tear my shirt over my head, and rip off my bra. My hair is a soft flowing mess.

  I pull out the dress, careful to catch the fabric in my hand. I slither into it and wrap the bodice around my back, but I can’t quite reach the delicate zipper. I study my reflection, pleased. I look beautiful, and I feel like a princess.

  I slowly make my way back to August, unsure. What happens next? What does he have planned for us? I can’t do this anymore. I must go.

  His face lights up when he sees me. I hold on tight to my bodice since I’m braless underneath. When I reach him, I turn my back to him.

  “I couldn’t quite zip it up,” I say and pray silently that he’ll be able to. I will cry if this dress is too small.

  He reaches for me, and his touch is electric. God, how I wish my body didn’t react to him like this. I suck in a breath as he presses his hand on my back and slides up the zipper. I feel the bodice close around me, wrap me up tightly, and I wish it were his arms. I turn toward him, unsure. I want him to like what he sees.

  When I see his expression, I know he loves it.

  “Exquisite,” he says. “Just as I imagined.”

  I smile shyly. “I feel like Cinderella.”

  “You’re more beautiful than Cinderella.”

  Neither of us move. We just stare at each other for what seems like eternity.

  “All dressed up and nowhere to go,” I quip with a grin.

  He beams and extends his long arm. “Come with me.”

  I press my hand in his. My brain tells me to go. Right now. But my heart tells me to stay. When it comes to August, my heart has a great advantage. It’s not even a fair fight. I follow him eagerly down the hall, my gorgeous shoes clicking against the marble. We reach the elevator, and I know we’re going up. My heart hammers as I start to panic. I can’t sleep with him.

  “August…” I pull away. “I can’t go to your bedroom. I can’t sleep with you.”

  He opens the door to the lift and turns to me, a stricken expression all over his face. “I’m not taking you to my bedroom.”

  So I follow him into the elevator, and I study him as he presses the button to go up. We don’t kiss passionately this time. We just stand awkwardly next to each other. I have a feeling my words have bruised him.

  When the door opens on the top floor of the house, I venture out. It’s dark, impeccable, and spectacular, just like the rest of the house, but the architecture is different. The ceilings are lower, all odd angles. It reminds me of my own bedroom.

  He takes my hand and leads me down the hallway. I barely have a chance to study the photos on the walls – his amazing nature photography. The room he brings me to is absolutely gorgeous – a round room surrounded by windows and wall-to-wall bookcases filled with vintage books. At its centre sits a gleaming grand piano. A round oriental carpet grounds the space.

  “Wow,” is all I can manage as I venture into the room. When I reach the windows and I see how high we are, I get giddy. I feel as though I’m in a castle. “We’re in the turret right now, aren’t we?”

  He laughs softly. “Yes.”

  “I’ve always wondered what was in this turret,” I say, as excited as schoolgirl. “Ever since I was young.”

  “What did you picture?”

  “I pictured a bedroom with a big four-poster bed with a red velvet bedspread. Mrs. Kimble kept a beautiful girl with long, dark braided hair here, and she wouldn’t let her escape.”

  He laughs again, and I’m happy to be entertaining him. “I could braid your hair and keep you locked in here.”

  I turn to him, feeling playful. “That would be fun, but unfortunately there’s no bed. We’d need a bed, wouldn’t we?”

  He smiles and joins me by the windows. He stands right behind me and presses his hands softly against my hips. “I’d take care of you. I’d feed you all your favourite foods – lots of cheese of course. I’d bathe you and braid your hair.”

  “That sounds nice.” I’m taken aback when my words come out a bit ragged. I’m turned on. “And then what…?”

  He trails a hand through my hair, sending chills through me. “Then I’d play with you. I’d have fun with you. You’d be my little doll.”

  Fuck, this conversation is twisted and so, so hot.

  “What kind of games would we play?” I ask breathlessly. Fuck, this is going exactly where I did not want this to go.

  “Wicked games,” he whispers against my ear. “I’d get to do anything I wanted to you. You’d be my sex slave, here solely for my pleasure. But I’d pleasure you too… and you would never get enough.”

  I melt into him when he presses his mouth against my neck. He bites gently.

  “I want you, Ruby,” he whispers against my skin. “I want to be inside you.”

  Then he pulls at my zipper. I want to stop him, but I can’t seem to do it. My brain is fuzzy with desire. He reaches into my corset and palms my breasts, my nipples hard against his soft hands. Fuck, I want this.

  Just once.

  Fucking.

  Not lovemaking.

  Hard and fast.

  Primal.

  Just sex.

  I turn to him, and with a ragged breath, I ask, “Do you…” I’m so turned on I can barely manage to speak. “Have a condom on you?”

  He smiles as he nods. “Just in case…”

  I swallow hard. “I want you, August. I don’t want you to take your time. I want you fast and as hard as you can go.”

  He looks taken aback as he studies me for a second. His eyes darken, filling me with intense desire.

  He drops to the floor. “I can do that.” He’s on his knees when he says, “God, you are beautiful in this dress.” He trails his hand under the billowy skirt and strokes my leg softly, moving his finger along the edge of my shoe. “But let me have a little fun under your dress for a minute first.”

  Oh my…

  Ruby

  He grabs the underside of my thigh and licks a slow line toward my core. I dissolve into him, jittery on one foot – I can barely stand. I try to hold on to him, but I’m feeling a little unsteady, and sure enough, I topple down and fall right on my ass.

  We both laugh as I recover from my fall. August nips at my ankle. “Fuck, these shoes.”

  I throw my head back. We’re on the floor again. This boy sure likes his floor sex. I like it too. I love it.

  He finally pulls himself out from under my dress, his face flushed, his mouth wet. “On your knees, Ruby.”

  He’s bossy, but I love it. I turn on the floor, the carpet soft under my knees, and I obey like a good girl. He pulls the large skirt of my dress up over my hips, and I’m buried in silky darkness.

  “You have the most amazing rear I’ve ever seen,” he says before he leaves a hot trail along my legs with his tongue, all the way up my ass.

  His mouth travels over the sheer fabric of my panties, and I can barely breathe. As he dips his tongue down to my sex and slides it up the crack of my ass over the fabric, I almost faint. My legs shake, and I grasp the carpet. I’ve never shaken during sex before. I don’t know wha
t he’s doing to me. I crawl away from him. I’m so weak and pliable in his hands it scares the hell out of me.

  He reaches for me again. “Ruby, do you want this? We can stop.”

  Hell, no way I want to stop. “I… want fast and hard,” I mutter, my mouth still caught against the fabric of my dress. “I want it now. Stop playing.”

  Still on my knees, I reach for the window sill and grab it with both my hands. He pulls at my panties with a swift tug and peels them down my legs. This is raw and tawdry. This isn’t love. This is just the both of us getting off. We need to get this out of our systems.

  I turn to watch him slip the condom on his hard cock, and I relish the sight. His hands touch me first – he rests them on my hips. He groans as he teases me gently, sliding himself between my lips and over my clit so gently. He’s not listening to me. I told him I wanted fast and hard, and he’s going soft and slow. But I love every second. He’s being sweet, teasing me, and making sure I’m ready for him.

  His voice is hoarse and scattered when he tells me, “I-I don’t want to rush this. This is all I’ve dreamed about.”

  I arch my back and press my behind into him, wanting more.

  “Ruby…” he whispers as he finally sinks into me. He feels so damn good. I knew he would.

  He’s slow at first. But as I beg for more, he goes deeper and faster. I hold on to the window sill, on all fours, taking him as deep as I can. He feels so amazing that I don’t ever want this to end. The sound of his hips slamming against my ass arouses me, brings me closer to my climax. I feel it build gloriously inside me. I sense him getting there too as his thrusts go deeper, as he digs his fingers harder into my hips. He’s giving me what I’ve asked for. He’s fucking me hard.

  That’s all this is – fucking. On the floor. Like animals.

  I almost lose consciousness as my orgasm overtakes me, grabs hold of my entire body, and stops my heart for a second. He lets out the most guttural groan I’ve ever heard as he catches up to me. He’s intense and hard on me when he finally reaches his release. It hurts in the best way.

  We collapse onto the floor, wrapped up in the silk of my dress. My legs are still shaking, and my heart is beating a mile a minute. Fuck… that was good.