River

Chapter Twenty-four

H is hands cradle my face and then his lips are on mine, tongue caressing as he kisses me slowly, sensually. My body feels as if it’s on fire, everywhere he touches, pleasure sparks and while I thought I’d feel nervous or even self-conscious during my first time, he makes me feel so damn beautiful I could weep.

His mouth trails down my jaw and then my neck, his kisses like the whisper of a butterfly wing against my skin and when the tip of him nudges at my entrance, I widen my thighs, relaxing into the feel, into the touch of him.

“That’s it, princess,” He soothes, teeth grazing across my collar bone before his tongue dips into the hollow at the base of my throat, “Relax for me.”

His cock stretches me open, the pain a bright burst that flares through me.

“We’re going to go slow, Marly,” He promises, “You tell me to stop if it gets too much.”

I nod my head confirming, my teeth sinking into my bottom lip to stifle the whimper of pain I feel as he sinks in a little deeper. I knew it would hurt but the stretch of him feels like I’m being torn.

“You’re doing so well, princess,” He rasps, his voice strained as if he’s holding himself back, his breath stuttering out of him. “Fuck, you’re so tight, Marly.”

He pulls out of me before he thrusts back inside, going deeper than before and I can’t help but cry out. “I know baby,” He soothes, doing it again, “Look at you, you’re taking me so fucking well.”

He does it a few more times and then his hips still, and his breath rushes from his lungs before he dips his chin to his chest, and looks between our bodies. My heart is pounding, and my skin is damp. As he stays there, his hips still, I start to feel myself relax a little, the pain eases although I still feel so incredibly full and stretched.

“You look so fucking pretty with my cock buried inside of you,” He lifts his head and meets my eyes, “I’m going to fuck you now, Marly, you understand?”

I nod, my breath hissing from my lips when he pulls out of me and then thrusts back inside, a little harder, a little faster. A moan has my head tipping back, I didn’t know it could feel this good and I can’t help but watch him as he moves in and out of my body. His muscles bunch and flex, the veins in his arms more defined than they were an hour ago and he strokes his cock into me with precise thrusts of his hips. I can see a little blood, but I can’t bring myself to care about it, not when watching him fuck me has me completely entranced.

“Lift your leg,” He orders gently, “Open yourself for me.”

I bring my knee up which he promptly grabs and holds as he gets to his knees and presses down on my hip with his other hand. It feels deeper but freer, and pleasure works in unison with the pain. My body is in riot mode, it doesn’t know what to do and my heart pounds hard inside my chest.

“River,” I stutter out his name and his eyes snap to mine.

“Say it again,” He growls. “Say my name, Marly.”

“Oh god,” I whimper as his hips move faster, the bed squeaking under the force.

“Not fucking god,” He rasps, “ Me , Marly. It’s me fucking you.”

“River!” I give him what he wants, “Yes!”

He groans, “Shit, you feel so good, baby.”

A startled cry leaves me when I feel his thumb press into my clit, his hips slowing to a gentle pace, “Shh,” He hushes, “Feel this baby, let it go. I want you to come for me.”

“I don’t know if I can,” I admit in a whisper.

“You can,” He urges, his thumb teasing on my clit while his cock still pushes into me, sending waves of pleasure through my body, making my thighs ache with it. “I want you to come all over my cock.”

My jaw slackens as I feel myself spasm around him, the shock knotting inside my stomach and I can feel it building, tightening me up to the point it has no choice but to snap.

His groan and curse are barely audible to the ringing inside my ears and the dots dancing across my vision.

“Fuccckkkkkk,” He growls before he drops both my legs, grabs my hips and fucks me into the mattress, his hips stilling as his head tips back, the pleasure on his face a painting I wish I could keep.

Spent, he collapses down on top of me, holding his weight in his arms as his breath shudders from him and whispers against my neck. I wince when he slips out of me and removes the condom, throwing it into the trash before his arms slip under me.

“What are you doing!?” I screech.

But he doesn’t answer me, instead he just carries me through to his small bathroom and hits the button to turn on the shower, stepping us both under the spray when it’s warm enough. He lowers himself to the ground, my body still cradled in his arms and for a few long minutes we just sit there, the water running over us both, easing the ache in my body.

“You did so well, princess,” He says eventually, pushing back wet hair to look at my face.

My cheeks burn hot with my blush, “I’m sorry, I thought you knew.”

He shakes his head, “It shouldn’t have been me, but selfishly, I don’t fucking regret it.”

“I wanted it to be you,” I lay my cheek against his shoulder, closing my eyes to the feel of the water, “I’ve never wanted it to be anyone until you.”

“Marly,” His voice rumbles through me, the vibration warming, settling something in my soul, a sound I’ve been searching for my entire life even though I didn’t know it. It’s soothing, like that one song you listen to when you need to breathe because it helps calm those racing thoughts. It feels like home and a faraway place all at once.

“Please don’t tell me you regret it,” I hear my own voice crack, my insecurities getting the better of me. I’ve never wanted to give my virginity to anyone, not until him and if he tells me it shouldn’t have happened, I feel like my heart might crack in two.

“Never,” He growls, grasping my chin, “Never, you hear me? I don’t regret a single fucking second.”

I blink through the water gathering in my lashes, “You don’t?”

“Fuck no,” He scoffs, “You’re perfect, princess, every fucking inch of you but for you to give me something so damn sacred, fuck, it’s a gift I don’t know what to do with.”

I tuck my face beneath his chin, hiding my smile, “Just keep doing it.” My cheeks flame with my words.

His chuckle warms me, “If you think I’d ever give it up, you’re mistaken, I don’t think you understand.”

“Understand what?”

“That you’re now mine,” His arms curl tighter around me, “Mine, do you understand?”

“What does that mean?”

“That no one else touches you, Marly.” I tilt my face toward the water, just so I can look at him. He angles himself so it stops hitting me in the face and instead falls against the back of his head, water dripping down the sides of his face, droplets running over his cheeks and gathering in the corners of his mouth, “No one looks at you, comes near you. You’re mine. My fucking girl,” He growls, “All of you. And if I have to mark every inch of you to show the world, then I will.”

“I don’t want anyone else,” I whisper.

“Good,” He rasps, “Now stand up so I can take care of you.”

My knees shake as I get to my feet and there’s a deep ache between my thighs. One I’m sure will ease in the next few hours but I feel it, I feel what he did, what he took.

He grabs his soap and lathers it up between his palms before he gets to work, running his hands over my body, scrubbing me clean. His hands dip between my legs, turning softer as he gently cleans me, washing away the stickiness but never the essence of what we did.

“I don’t have any fancy shampoo,” He gives me a crooked grin, “Tilt your head back.”

I lift my head to the ceiling, giving him access to my hair and listen as he squirts shampoo into his palms and begins to run it through the lengths of my hair. It smells like him and his hands on my scalp and in my hair feels divine even though I know tomorrow, I’ll be doing a whole a hair routine. Hair care is no joke, not that I’ll tell him that.

When he’s finished scrubbing, he washes out the suds and then goes about sorting himself before he shuts off the shower, and I really try not to wince at the lack of conditioner or masks. We’re two different worlds and of course I can’t expect the same kind of products.

“What’s wrong?” He frowns, noticing anyway.

“Nothing,” I tell him and take the towel he offers me, wrapping myself up and then wringing out my hair. I need a brush, which I have in my car. It’ll save me having a complete birds nest in the morning, I could probably braid it too.

He frowns, not convinced.

“I just need to run to my car,” I tell him.

“What for?” His face hardens, “Are you leaving?”

My stomach drops, “No, I just need some things.”

His shoulders soften, “Okay, where is it? I’ll get it for you.”

“I can –”

“No,” He kisses my forehead, “My shirts are in the top drawer of the dresser, put one on, I’ll get your bag, where is it?”

“Backseat,” I breathe.

He pecks my cheek before he exits in just his towel, leaving me in the doorway of his bathroom. I snap out of it quickly and move toward the dresser, pulling it open. It’s stiff and creaks when I pull it but inside are all his shirts, folded neatly. I pick out a white tee and yank it over my head. It falls to about mid-thigh and I leave myself bare underneath before I move to the bed and tug the sheets back.

His scent invades this space, so damn intoxicating I have to stop myself from bringing the sheets to my nose to inhale, and climb underneath just in time for him to return with my bag.

He drops it by the dresser and digs inside, pulling out my brush a moment later and walking toward me.

“Can I?” He asks, holding it up.

I nod and maneuver myself to sit cross legged on the bed. The mattress dips as he climbs onto the bed and shifts behind me, his thighs bracketing mine and then I feel his hands in my hair and the brush scraping against my scalp.

He moves it softly, gently, working the knots in my hair and it makes me wonder if he’s done this before.

“I used to brush my mother’s hair,” He answers my silent question, “She died a few years back now, but she used to let me brush out her hair after she washed it, actually I say let loosely. She demanded I do it, both me and my brother. We didn’t have a father figure in the home. He died when we were young, and so she did everything herself, and after her hair washing day, she would tell one of us to take care of her hair. I didn’t realize what she was doing at the time.”

I hold my breath as he pauses in his story, the brush moving through my hair gently, it snags on a couple of knots, but he works them without issue, brushing them out of my hair.

“So, she taught us what to do, how to do it, and I know what I did back in the shower isn’t good enough, but I honestly didn’t expect you here, princess.” He works the brush through my hair, his hands smoothing down the strands.

“It’s okay,” I whisper, feeling somewhat soothed by his admission,

“I guess she was teaching us how to care for our future wives and potential future daughters,” He continues without missing a beat, “Taught us how to work knots and brush out her hair without ever telling us why she wanted us to do it.”

She did tremendous work, I think to myself as he continues, not a painful snag in sight.

“She was a good woman,” River says.

“She sounds like it,” I reply, filling the silence his voice leaves behind.

He drops the brush, and I reach for it, untangling one of the bands I had wrapped around the handle and begin to braid my hair. He watches intently, eyes focused on the movement of my hands and fingers as I work my hair into the braid.

“Can you teach me?” He asks.

“Teach you?”

“How to do that with your hair,” He continues, “Show me how I can make it easier for you.”

“I can show you,” I breathe.

His grin lights up something within my heart and now my hair is finished I let him put me where he wants me. On this occasion, it’s on the side of the bed furthest from the door, and he tucks the sheets around my body before he molds himself to the shape of my back.

“Sleep, princess,” He kisses the spot between my shoulder and neck, “We have all the time in the world to show each other how we both live.”