Shallow River

So pink. So pretty. And glistening from how fucking drenched she is.

I squeeze my dick again, partly to help relieve the pressure, and partly to shock some control into me. My head lolls forward lazily. With hooded eyes, she parts her lips and dips her fingers inside. She drags the juices up to her clit, circling the bud slowly, a small moan escaping her lips.

My hand drags up and down my shaft in response, sharp pleasure travelling up my spine. She circles her fingers faster, occasionally plunging her fingers inside before continuing her ministrations. I can’t take my eyes away from her, just like she can’t take hers away from me. The soft moans grow louder and bolder. Her body comes alive, as she spreads her legs wider, and circles her hips wantonly against her hand.

“Fuck, River,” I growl, my hand moving quicker. Briefly, her eyes close and her head rolls, but she quickly turns her eyes back to me, like she can’t stand to look away for more than a second.

“I’m going to come,” she whispers, her legs shaking and her brow furrowing.

“Then fucking do it,” I grit out, my own orgasm on the verge of consuming me. River goes completely still, even her voice as she reaches her crescendo. And then she’s falling, and my name is chant on her lips. The first syllable of my name is all need to hear before I’m toppling over the cliff with her. My eyes snap shut, and my knees threaten to give out as hot cum spurts from my dick.

“Fuuuuck, River,” I groan, the intense pleasure nearly blinding me. It wracks my body, battering my strength to pieces. I keep my eyes locked on River’s form. Her eyes rolled back in ecstasy and her uncontrolled, jerky movements as she rides out her orgasm.

The only regret I ever is that she’s grinding against her hand, when it should be my tongue. Even as I come down slowly, my entire body limp and buzzing from the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had, I want to lick her pussy until my tongue falls off.

Her own breathing is erratic. And she won’t meet my eyes. She’s sitting straigh

t now, staring at the floor, her chest still heaving and her tiny fists clenched. I’ve no idea what’s going through her head right now, and I’m too much of a chicken shit to ask.

She slides of the shelf daintily, slides her jeans on and shoves her feet into her converse, the heels of her feet sticking out. I button myself up, steeling myself against whatever is going to come out of her mouth.

Her gold eyes slowly lift to meet mine. Something invisible but potent transfers between us. I don’t know what it is. I don’t what it means. But I want more of it. Without a word, she turns away and walks out of the building.

She’ll be back. As much as she wants to deny it, she’s as addicted to me as I am to her

.

Fifteen

River

“HEY BABY,” RYAN CHIRPS from behind me, kissing the top my of head. I’m sitting at my desk, working on a paper for my Agriculture class.

“Hey,” I reply distractedly. I’ve been invested in writing this stupid paper for the past several hours, and I’m almost done. My shoulders ache, my head is pounding and all I want is an entire bottle of wine to the face.

A gasp is ripped from my throat when my head snaps back. My ponytail is wrapped around Ryan’s hand as he pulls my head as far back as it will go. Ryan’s blank face is above me, staring down at me with cold unattachment.

“I came home in a good mood, ready to be doted on by my beautiful girlfriend. Instead, all I get is a hey. Now is that any way to treat your boyfriend?”

“I’m sorry,” I rush out, my voice strained. His grip tightens to an excruciating level before he pushes me head forward roughly, nearly sending my forehead crashing into my computer screen.

“Get pretty for me,” he demands coldly. I turn towards him cautiously, my hand absently rubbing the back of my head. That hurt.

“Where are we going?”

“Out,” he answers shortly. Very informative, asshole.

“I need to know how to dress,” I push. His back is to me now, and his head is dipped as he takes off his tie and begins to unbutton his shirt. The frustration rolling off him is visible. He lifts his head and sighs with barely contained anger.

“Something nice. A dress, River. One that doesn’t make you look like a fucking slut.”

Before I can say anything, he rips off his pristine white shirt. A white shirt that has a smudge of red at the collar.

My heart drops and my world spins. He throws the shirt in the hamper, away from my eyes. None the wiser, he disappears into our bathroom, shutting the door behind him. I hear the water turn on seconds later.

Are you washing away the scent of her pussy, sweet Ryan?

Robotically, I stand up and walk over to the hamper. I pick up the shirt and find the smudge. It’s damp, as if he tried to wash off the evidence, but you can’t get red lipstick out of a designer shirt with water and cheap hand soap.