It’s hard to remember the anxiety I had when I first arrived. Somewhere along the way, it’s been replaced with the kind of pressure that reminds you it’s good to be alive.
“I want you to find what you’ve been thinking about all night, River. Let me feel what you’ve been feeling. Show me.”
He groans, the sound desperate. “I love when you’re greedy for my cock.”
I roll my hips against him, his cock throbbing as I do. “I love the way you fuck me, River. I love how hard you get. How deep you go. How you don’t treat me like I’m fragile.”
He swears and then kisses me in a rough claiming. One that bruises my lips.
His hand slides between us, beneath the waistband of my pajamas, teasing and testing. He finds me already slick and warm.
“Goddamn, you’re so ready for me,” he says.
“Always for you.”
He kisses me again while his fingers circle slowly over my clit, dragging gasps from me until I’m panting into his open mouth.
My fists twist the sheets, my hips jerking up to meet his touch. When he removes his hand, sucking two glistening fingers into his mouth, I positively growl.
“I want your mouth on me,” I manage to say, finding the words from somewhere.
Then, River is sliding down the bed, yanking off my pajama pants, and spreading me wide open with hands that tremble enough to wreck me.
He’s impatient.
Hungry.
As desperate for me as I am for him.
He licks deep, slow, at first, tongue flat and firm. He teases me until I curse him out between shallow breaths.
“River,” I cry. “Make me come.”
There are days I want to be edged. Today isn’t one of them.
He adds a finger, then two. He knows just how to curl them to press where I want them most. His tongue flicks over me in tight, devastating circles.
And I break.
Coming with a cry that’s sharp and sudden. His hands grip my thighs as he wrings every ounce of pleasure from my body, licking me through it. Softening only when I tug at his hair.
He climbs back up my body, planting wet kisses as he goes. And when his lips meet mine, he tastes of me.
“You good?” he murmurs against my mouth.
“Better than! But I want more of you.”
“You need to ride me again, or you gonna let me be in control this time?”
“You can be in control.”
“Get on your knees,” he says as he rolls off the bed just long enough to grab a condom from the drawer and put it on.
I hesitate for a second, uncertain whether I want to be in such a position. It’s complicated. I kneel, but don’t place my hands on the bed. Somewhere between the loss of eye contact that strips away intimacy, and the old scripts telling me I’m being made subservient. I’m not sure I want this.
River turns back to the bed and finds me, but he grips my chin with his thumb and forefinger. “If you’ve got to think that hard about it, the answer is no, Wren.”
And with that, he pushes me over, then grabs my legs so I end up on my back beneath him.
