Ruth tore off her clothes as soon as she stepped foot in Evan’s room. No underwear, because she really had been naked when her bed had collapsed beneath her. But she hadn’t wanted to apologise with her tits bouncing around between them, because that seemed undignified.

She had wanted to apologise, though. Turned out, once you started talking about things, it got way, way easier. And Ruth had discovered there were few people in the world she wanted to talk to as much Evan.

She was completely naked and tucked under his boring, blue covers before she realised that Evan was still standing in the doorway as if frozen. She propped herself up on one elbow and asked, “Are you coming?”

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing visibly. “You do realise the most I’ve ever seen of your body is… copious forearm. And some ankle. I’m particularly fond of the dimples above your elbows.”

“How scandalous.”

Slowly, he came towards the bed. “What’s scandalous is you in my bed, naked, and completely hidden from view.” He came to stand beside her, staring at the outline of her body beneath the quilt as if he might suddenly develop X-ray vision. “Do you need me to… turn the light off?”

“Oh,” Ruth said. “You think I’m shy.”

He arched a brow.

She smiled, feeling quite smug, and said, “I’m not shy.” Then she sat up completely and pushed back the blanket.

Evan sank slowly to his knees beside the bed, his eyes traversing all the hills and valleys of her body—and then repeating the journey again, slower, as if to savour certain parts. She wondered if she should’ve done this lying down, to minimise the roll situation, but then decided that rolls were fine. If they were going to do anything interesting, rolls would eventually occur. She couldn’t lie down constantly whenever they were naked.

Plus, Evan didn’t seem to have any complaints.

He bit his lip as he studied her, his eyes moving from the swell of her breasts to the shadowed space between her legs. She could spread her thighs wider, let him see what he wanted to see instead of hiding it away. But that wouldn’t be half as much fun.

Because she knew he’d ask, Ruth murmured, “You can touch me.”

He looked up, his eyes hungry. “Anywhere?”

“Preferably everywhere.”

Slowly, deliberately, he pressed a hand to her hip. Which wasn’t exactly what she’d expected—but the slightest touch from him left her breathless.

“I thought about this,” he said. His hand slid up, slow and steady, over her hip and towards her ribs. “I thought about how you’d look naked, and then I felt guilty.”

Her breath caught as his hand reached the underside of her breast. “Why guilty?”

He cupped the mound of flesh, no more than a handful for him. “Because I thought about it too much. And every time I heard your shower start or your bed creak, I imagined touching you. Taking off your clothes and kissing every inch of you, and fucking you—and I’ve never done that. I’ve never fantasised about… about a friend.”

“Because you’re too noble,” she teased. Then his thumb brushed over her nipple, and her smile became a whimper.

Evan’s eyes flew to hers. “You like that.”

It wasn’t a question, but she bit her lip and nodded anyway.

So he did it again, harder this time, worrying the stiff peak. She could feel her pussy growing wet, the muscles contracting as if searching for something, begging to be filled. Lust riding her, Ruth shoved at his waistband. The fabric slid down easily over his thighs, and his cock bobbed free, beautiful as she remembered, and oh, Jesus, how she’d wanted his.

But before she could touch him, Evan bent his head over her other breast and took the aching nipple into his mouth. She cried out as his tongue flicked the tight peak with impossible delicacy, even as his lips sucked softly at her breast.

“Jesus,” she choked out. “Evan. Fuck.” He still worked her other nipple with one thumb, and Ruth stared down at the sight. At his big hand against her skin, the knuckles dusted in golden hair; at his head bent over her breast with singular focus, and the muscles in his naked back. She could see the globes of his arse and imagined how they’d look when he thrust into her, how the muscle would shift beneath his skin.

Ruth’s own hand ached to move between her legs. But before she could do anything, he released her nipple with a last, hard lick.

Looking up at her with slightly swollen lips, Evan said, “I want to make you come. You look so pretty when you come.”

She huffed out a laugh, but the sound was strained. “It’s kind of hard for someone else to make me…”

“Show me, then. We’ve got time.”

He said that as if there was no way he’d rather spend that time than trying to get her off. She understood the sentiment, because she’d be willing to spend ages sucking his cock.

Asking for what she wanted in the bedroom wasn’t a familiar habit, but Ruth had a feeling that Evan would make it easier.

The words were hard to dredge up, thick and sticky as syrup, but she forced herself to speak because she knew he really meant it. He wanted to know. He was watching her with earnest blue eyes, shot through with thunderous shadow, and his face was so fucking… dear to her, even now, with his hand on her breast and his cock straining between them. Her blood burned through her veins at the sight of his body, and her heart squeezed in her chest at the knowledge that he was Evan. Just Evan.

“Well,” she managed. “Usually, when someone else makes me come, it’s because they, um… Used their mouth.”

Evan stood, pulling his clothes off completely. It occurred to her that he’d probably been naked too, before her bed collapsed.

God, she was glad her bed had collapsed.

He stood before her, his cock rising proudly against his solid waist, his balls hanging heavily between thick, muscular thighs, and she thought maybe she would come tonight. Without the use of her own hand. She had a rather good feeling about this.

“Lying down?” He asked.

She blinked, taking a minute to catch his meaning. “I’ve only ever done it lying down.”

He smirked. “Well, like I said, we’ve got time.” Then he pushed her gently back against the pillows, nudging her into the centre of the bed. For a moment, he slid his body over hers, and a spark of anticipation danced down her spine. His chest grazed the sensitive tips of her breasts, and she felt the weight of his cock between her thighs.

Then he kissed her gently before moving down her body, his lips trailing over her skin. His mouth brushed along the length of her throat, over the swell of her breasts. He lingered there for a moment, flicking his tongue over each stiff peak, and then he said, his voice hoarse, “I love your nipples.”

“You do?”

“Mmm.” He gave one a firm suck, and she felt the pull between her legs. Then he released her and continued his journey south. Over her ribs, her belly, her hips, went his mouth. His beard tickled everywhere, the sort of tickle that didn’t inspire laughter so much as panting, half-hysterical moans.

When his mouth passed her hips, Evan grabbed her thighs. His fingers dug into her flesh just hard enough to make her gasp, and then that gasp turned into a ragged moan when he pushed her legs wider. Ruth felt the slick folds of her pussy spread open, exposed suddenly to the cool air. And then she felt the warmth of his breath against her, the contrast sharp, the anticipation dizzying.

“You tell me what to do,” he said, “and what not to do.” He pressed a gentle kiss against the inside of her thigh. “Okay?”

She swallowed, nodded, then remembered he couldn’t see her. “Okay.”

“Good.” His hands slid from her thighs to her pussy, and he parted her further, spreading her open with his thumbs. And then she felt that tongue again, big and strong and yet so delicate, tracing her inner folds.

Ruth’s breath escaped in a strained gasp, her hips jerking up. And then, because she’d told him she would, she said, “More.”

He licked the very centre of her desire, his tongue dipping into her, and she moaned. Arched her back. Felt the last of the blood circulating her brain disappear. Still, she needed something else.

Then his tongue moved up and flicked gently at her clit, and Ruth gave a sharp cry. “Fuck, yes. Evan…”

He licked faster, and then she felt his finger stroke her entrance. For a second, the heat of his mouth disappeared, and Ruth wanted to scream in frustration because that—that had been almost perfect and she needed him to keep going.

Then he pushed the tip of his finger into her, and she felt herself tighten around him automatically. Desperately. Christ.

“Tell me this is okay.” He said, his voice low and heavy with a lust that belonged, she realised, to her. He was enjoying this. He didn’t just want to make her happy. He was doing it for himself, too.

Her hips jerked against him, pushing his finger deeper as she said, “This is definitely okay. Keep going.”

That long, thick finger thrust in all the way, until she could feel his knuckles against her labia. Jesus Christ, it felt good, simultaneously too much and not enough.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said suddenly. “You’d tell me, if I hurt you?”

“Yes. Now, I’m kind of missing your mouth, so if you don’t mind…”

He grinned wickedly. “Oh, no. I don’t mind at all.” Then he buried his head between her thighs again, his tongue massaging her clit more firmly than before. Perfectly. So perfectly that she found herself gasping out his name, writhing on the bed with no restraint whatsoever. His finger moved slowly inside her, back and forth, until she softened enough for him to thrust with ease.

He added another finger, and Ruth shuddered at the delicious stretch, and then she rose up on her elbows to look at him and holy shit was he beautiful. So, so beautiful, his handsome face buried between her legs, his eyes closed as if in ecstasy. He stroked her expertly, worked her clit tirelessly, and the twin rhythms had her heart pounding in her chest.

She slid a hand into his hair, pushed him against her as if he could get any closer. “Fuck,” she gasped out, the word stretching on a breath. “Oh my God. Please don’t stop, you can’t stop, please—” because she was suddenly, unreasonably terrified that he might. That he might take away the perfection and the promise of starlight just when she was almost there, and nothing would be more unbearable.

He didn’t. He kept going, kept up the pace and the pressure until the razor-sharp streaks of pleasure arcing through her reached their peak. Ruth managed to groan out a series of babbled, senseless words—“Oh, my, fuck yes, you’re so, Jesus, Evan, you perfect fucking…”—before her mind gave up completely. She gave a hoarse cry as she twisted up off the bed, but Evan didn’t stop then, either. He wrapped an arm around her hips and kept licking, kept stroking, his movements growing slower and gentler as her moans eased.

When she relaxed against the bed, limbs liquid, chest heaving, he finally stopped.

The fact that he’d made her come almost as easily as she did herself should’ve shocked Ruth. Instead, she felt an odd sort of satisfaction; as if he’d met an expectation she’d secretly already held.

He moved up the bed to lay beside her, his warm body pressed against hers. Ruth rolled onto her side and wrapped her arms around him.

Evan cradled her face, his lips curved into a smile. She’d been sated five seconds ago. Now she could feel his hardness pressing into her belly, smell her own arousal on his beard, see the fire burning in his eyes.

She kissed him without a word, sinking into his touch the way she would a warm bath. His hands roamed over her body, sliding down the small of her back, over the curve of her arse. He delved between her legs from behind, stroking her slowly, gently. The way he touched her, as if it were a habit, only made Ruth hungrier.

She reached between their bodies and found his stiff cock, squeezing the firm girth. A flare of pleasure shot through her as Evan sighed against her lips.

Then she slid his erection between her thighs, and he grunted, “Fuck.”