Chapter 9: The Unexpected Seduction
The cool, electronic silence of Ren’s suite was a shock after the ballroom’s humid din. Ruby hovered just inside the doorway, her fingers twisting together. The room felt like a magazine spread, all sharp angles and monochrome, lit by that eerie blue LED glow. It didn’t look like anyone lived here.
“You weren’t kidding about the view,” she said, her voice too loud in the stillness. She drifted toward the floor-to-ceiling window, a void of city lights twinkling like scattered circuitry far below.
“I rarely kid.” Ren moved to a low cabinet, the glass doors revealing crystal decanters. He extracted one, the liquid inside a deep amber. “This is the one I mentioned. A thirty-year single malt. From a distillery that burned down the year we were born.”
“Wow. Morbid.” Ruby accepted the heavy tumbler he handed her. She took a sip, the smoke and heat of it making her eyes water. She coughed. “Tastes like… a campfire in a library.”
A faint smile touched his lips. He leaned against the bar cart, watching her. “An acquired taste.”
“So is all this,” she gestured vaguely with her glass at the austere room. “It’s very… you. I think.”
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know. Controlled.” She took another, smaller sip, letting the burn sit on her tongue. The encounter in the hallway prickled at the edge of her mind. Weiss, pressed against the wall, her hair mussed. Ren’s poised posture, blocking her from view. The charge between them had been so tangible it left a taste in the air. “Weiss seemed pretty worked up earlier. You really calm her down?”
His expression didn’t change. “She’s under a lot of pressure. It’s a big day tomorrow.”
“Yeah.” Ruby looked down into her whiskey. “She’s been weird all week. Like, before the stripper thing even. Jumpy. I thought it was just pre-wedding jitters but…” She trailed off, not sure how to articulate the dissonance she’d seen: the perfect bride at the table, the frantic woman in the hall.
“But?”
“It’s like she’s two people.” Ruby looked up, her silver eyes earnest. “You see it too, right? The one who’s marrying Jaune, and the one who…” She stopped, flushing. “Never mind. That’s dumb. I’ve probably had too much punch.”
Ren set his glass down on the cart with a soft click. He crossed the space between them, stopping close enough that she had to tilt her head back to hold his gaze. His amber eyes were unreadable in the cool light.
“It’s not dumb,” he said. His voice was quiet, almost gentle. “You notice things. Most people don’t bother to look.”
He reached out, not for her glass, but for her face. His fingers were warm as they carefully brushed a strand of black-and-red hair from her cheek, tucking it behind her ear. The touch was shockingly intimate. Ruby froze, her breath catching. This was different from dancing. This was stillness. This was intent.
His thumb traced the line of her cheekbone. “You’re not like the others, Ruby.”
“I’m not…” Her voice was a whisper. She should step back. She didn’t. “What others?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he cupped her cheek, his palm cradling her jaw. He leaned in slowly, giving her every chance to pull away. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic bird. She saw his lashes lower, and then his mouth was on hers.
The kiss was soft. Exploratory. Nothing like the hungry, possessive way she’d imagined him kissing Weiss in that shadowed hallway. This was a question. Ruby’s thoughts scattered. The glass trembled in her hand. He took it from her, setting it aside without breaking the kiss. A small, logical part of her brain screamed that this was wrong, that he was the best man, that Weiss…
But Weiss had been in his arms an hour ago.
And he was kissing her now.
A hesitant heat bloomed in her stomach. Her hands, unsure, came to rest on his chest. The fine wool of his suit was smooth under her fingertips. She kissed him back, her movements clumsy with inexperience. He made a low, approving sound, his other arm sliding around her waist to pull her firmly against him. The kiss deepened, turning warmer, wetter. His tongue touched hers, and a jolt went straight through her.
When he pulled back, they were both breathing harder. Ruby’s lips felt swollen, sensitive.
“Ren, I…”
“Shhh.” He kissed the corner of her mouth, then her jaw, his lips tracing a path down the column of her throat. His hands slid to the zipper at the back of her simple black dress. The sound of it parting was deafening in the quiet room. Cool air kissed her spine.
He pushed the straps from her shoulders. The dress pooled at her feet, a dark puddle on the light hardwood. She stood before him in only her plain white cotton underwear, suddenly feeling painfully young, exposed under the clinical blue light. She crossed her arms over her chest.
Ren didn’t rush. His gaze traveled over her, but it wasn’t leering. It was… appreciative. Curious. He knelt in front of her, his hands settling on her hips. He pressed a kiss to the flat plane of her stomach, just above her navel. Ruby shuddered.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmured against her skin, the words vibrating through her.
He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of her underwear and drew them down her legs. She stepped out of them, her face burning. He guided her backward until her calves hit the edge of the massive bed, draped in that impossibly red silk.
“Lie back,” he said.
She obeyed, sinking into the cool, slick fabric. It felt alien against her bare skin. He followed her down, bracing himself over her, still fully dressed. He kissed her again, more deeply this time, one hand sliding from her hip, up her ribcage, to gently cup her breast. His thumb swept over her nipple, and she arched off the bed with a sharp gasp.
He took his time. He mapped her with his mouth and hands, learning her. The sensitive hollow of her throat, the underside of her breast, the jutting bone of her hip. Each kiss was deliberate, each touch calibrated to draw a sigh, a shiver, a bitten-off whimper. Ruby was dissolving, her earlier thoughts about Weiss, about right and wrong, blurring into a haze of sensation. This was nothing like the fumbling, eager experiences she’d had before. This was a lesson.
He moved down the bed, his hands spreading her thighs. She tensed.
“Relax,” he said, his voice a warm command. He didn’t look up, his focus absolute. He kissed the inside of her knee, then higher.
When his tongue touched her, she cried out, her fingers tangling in his dark hair, not to push him away, but to hold on. He was ruthlessly thorough, his mouth hot and knowing. He found a rhythm that made her hips jerk off the sheets, her back bowing. The pressure built, coiling tight and urgent deep inside her. It broke with a violence that shocked her, a silent scream tearing through her as she shuddered, seeing flashes of blue light behind her eyelids.
Before she could even come down, before the aftershocks had finished, he was moving again, his tongue circling, lighter now, teasing. A second climax, slower and deeper, rolled through her almost immediately, leaving her boneless and gasping, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.
She heard the soft rustle of clothing, the click of a belt. She opened her eyes, dazed, as he finished undressing. The blue light sculpted the lean muscle of his torso, the sharp cut of his hips. He came over her again, settling between her legs. He was hard, the weight of him pressing against her sensitized flesh. He reached down, guiding himself.
He entered her with one slow, inexorable push. Ruby gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders. He filled her completely, a stretching, burning fullness that was almost too much. He held still, letting her adjust, his face buried in her neck, his breathing ragged.
“Okay?” he breathed.
She could only nod, her cheek rubbing against the silk pillowcase.
He began to move. His thrusts were deep, measured, each one a devastating completion. He didn’t speak. The only sounds were the slick friction of their bodies, the creak of the bedframe, her ragged pants, and his low, controlled grunts near her ear. He drove into her with a steady, relentless pace that built the tension all over again, a different kind, deeper in her core. She wrapped her legs around his waist, meeting him thrust for thrust, losing herself in the physical truth of it.
His rhythm fractured. His thrusts became harder, faster, losing their precision. A harsh, choked sound escaped him. He drove into her one last time, deep, and held there, his body rigid. She felt the hot pulse of his release inside her.
He collapsed atop her, his weight crushing but welcome. They lay like that for long minutes, slick with sweat, hearts pounding against each other in a slowing, syncopated rhythm. The sterile blue light seemed to watch, impartial.
Finally, he shifted, rolling onto his side and taking her with him, pulling her back against his chest. His arm was a heavy band around her waist. He nuzzled the damp hair at her temple.
Ruby stared at the city lights through the window, her mind a blank, humming static. The scent of him, of them, of sex and whiskey, filled her lungs. A vague, distant thought surfaced: she should feel something more. Guilt, or triumph, or regret. She just felt empty. And used. And wonderfully, terribly aware.
His breathing evened out into sleep behind her. Carefully, she extracted herself from his arm. She slid from the bed, her legs unsteady. She found her clothes, dressing silently in the accusing light. She didn’t look back at him.
At the door, she paused, her hand on the cool steel handle. She remembered the look on Weiss’s face in the hallway. Not guilt. Not embarrassment. Fear, and a kind of furious hunger.
Ruby stepped out into the warmly lit hallway, closing the door softly on the blue glow and the sleeping man. The plush carpet muffled her footsteps as she walked away, the feeling of him still echoing inside her, a ghost already taking shape.