Two - River
Walking silently up the steps toward the dark lifted stage, I nibble my bottom lip, careful not to spook the man leaning down. Left behind by his band members, one lone figure packs away his things with measured ease. I huff a breath, eyeing his every move. This is the closest I've been to him since they all graduated high school and started at the university across town.
Thirty minutes ago, the spotlights dimmed, and the music died. The boys took one last sweaty bow, smiling at the crowd, and said their goodbyes, disappearing behind the large black curtain separating the front from the back. Despite the crowd hooting and hollering for an encore, the boys remained backstage, cooling off after a successful show.
Eventually, the crowd gave up begging for an encore by paying their tabs and calling it quits. Everyone except Tessa and the itty-bitty titty brigade, who are currently standing by the edge of the stage, looking more like desperate groupies than anything.
Squeals of delight, giggles, and whispers follow me as I head onto the darkened stage. Looking back, I smirk at Bert, our burly security guard, who disdainfully frowns at the girls. Shaking his head, he murmurs a few choice words and pins me with a look, begging for help. I snort, playfully saluting him in response. No can do, buddy. I have one last thing to do before I go home, and then I'm free.
Peering down at the hefty check made out to Whispered Words, I can't help but smile at tonight's success. I knew the raging crowd from before would be my good luck charm but fuck if I didn't make bank. And with our split, the band made bank too. No other band in the history of Dead End has made this amount on their first night here. They're definitely coming back. I could kiss their damn faces for granting me such a payday.
My eyes close on their own accord when the remnants of their songs repeatedly hum through my veins. Echoes of their fans' excited whoops and hollers play in my mind like I'm standing before them again, eagerly hearing their orgasmic sounds. A buzz encases my body, and I sigh. When I open my eyes and look around, reality crashes into me. The show plucked its last string and thumped its last snare thirty minutes ago. All that meets my ears is the whooshing static filling my senses after a long night of loud music and screams.
A heavy sigh rocks me when I take a few more steps, watching Kieran as he packs away his equipment with angry mutters and throws his things around haphazardly—reminding me of his small temper as a kid when things didn't go his way.
His dark, messy, sweat-soaked hair falls into his eyes, and he curses at himself through several frustrated growls. It's one thing when he growls into the microphone. But up close and personal? My core heats to molten levels, heating my cheeks, and my damn toes curl in my shoes.
Kieran throws something into his guitar case with force and curls his fingers into fists. Heavy breaths rock through him, heaving his sculpted chest. My eyes fall down his body, taking in the glory of Kieran Knight. My palms sweat in his proximity, forcing me to wipe them down my jean shorts.
“You guys sounded so good tonight. Good show, Kieran,” I say with an enthusiastic smile, stepping up to the massive man with his back to me.
Typically, the musicians happily stay behind for a free drink and a two-a.m. snack before they hit the road again. Usually, we chat about nothing and enjoy each other's company. Some rock my fucking world in the backseat of my car or the back of their small tour vans. And some we just don't mesh well.
And apparently, this guy is the latter.
He grits his teeth, turning toward me with his fists clenched. Those familiar mismatched blue eyes look right through me as if he doesn't know or see me. I frown when he doesn’t immediately respond, returning to packing away his stuff, and completely ignoring my existence.
Talk about rude, dickweed. I'm standing right here. I try not to let the hurt infect me and instead try again.
I clear my throat again, hoping to catch his attention without sounding too damn needy. Like, hello, I'm here to pay you, assbag. But it doesn’t work. I could dance a jig with tap shoes naked, and this asshole wouldn’t look my way. Maybe I should show him my tits like the girls at the show? I peer down at the bottom of my shirt, seriously contemplating showing off the girls for some attention, and shake my head. I have dignity, damn it.
“I said…”
“Yeah, well, I’m not interested. Especially some Central girl,” he says in a rumbly voice, perfect for sexy dirty talk.
But this talk isn't the dirty talk I have in mind. I want him to slap my ass, call me a whore, and maybe a good girl. Not a fucking Central Girl. Jeez, this guy, too? You'd think someone formerly from this side of town would have more respect for the group of people he was once part of.
My stomach twists at the audacity of his judgmental words. The fucker didn’t even look at me to know who I was or where I came from. Instead, he kneels in front of his pedalboard, inspecting them with his fingertips. He shakes his head and ignores me again by busying himself with more packing and grumbling.
A sharp arrow pierces through my chest and embeds in my heart. Old feelings burst to life inside me, and I instantly resent the fucker for ever stepping foot inside my establishment.
“I’m sorry. What the fuck did you say?” I say through clenched teeth, standing rigid.
Fuck pleasantries. Fuck professionalism.
My panties dry in an instant at his attitude, tamping down my attraction. Maybe he has changed so much, and he's no longer like the sweet boy I once knew. And instead, he has turned into the asshole everyone says he is.
A deep heat races up my neck and onto my face, burning my ears with a fury so intense I could take down the fucking devil. Tears well in my eyes, fueled by my anger.
God, be good, Riv. Be fucking good, don’t curse out the fucking talent just yet.
Even though he deserves every ounce of my ire coming his way, I bite my damn tongue. I grind my teeth, fisting the damn paper check in my fist, contemplating tearing it up in his face, so he sees who he’s dealing with. Maybe he’ll leave, and I’ll take the entire cut. Fuck him.
“You heard me,” he grits out, shaking his head. Fiddling with his damn pedals, he tosses them into a case and growls, not paying me an ounce of attention. “I’m not interested. We don’t want anything you’re giving. You’re wasting your breath.”
What. The. Fuck. Not only was I friends with this asshole as a kid and went to the same school, but we spoke through email, and I used my name. Hello, River. It's written across my damn boob in tiny writing. I blink a few times, swallowing the angry words in my throat before I say anything else stupid.
His jaw twitches when he stands before me, crossing his arms over his buff chest. I swallow the gasp in my throat, the intensity residing in the depths of his eyes. Two blue eyes stare back at me, but one stands out with a brown stain carving its way through the bottom of his right iris. It's mesmerized me since we were kids, pulling me in again.
"Everything will be okay, Blue," he murmurs, putting an arm over my shoulder after setting his used guitar on the grass. "I'll always be your knight." I always grinned when he said things like that, making a little play at his last name. But it was always true at the time. He was my knight, saving me from the clutches of the bullies at elementary school. Kieran strokes the scratch down my face, given to me by some chick in the fifth grade on the playground who said I stole her kickball.
"But your ma," I say, pointing to his darkened apartment with the curtains drawn and the loud music pouring from it.
"She'll come around," he sighs, shaking his head. "She always does." I lean my head on his shoulder as we fall back into the grass, staring at the stars twinkling down at us.
That was one of the last times he held me like a precious jewel and our last encounter. After that night, a strange man kept coming around, sneaking around with Gloria—Kieran's mom. After that night, Kieran and Gloria left the apartment without a goodbye. He didn't even have the decency to knock on my door, hug me, and tell me he'd see me later. He simply vanished under the moonlight, and Ode and her family replaced him in a matter of days.
Swallowing my memories, I meet the boy who broke my heart head-on, refusing to back down and break off our stare-off. He’s hot now. Way hotter than before. But his personality could use a little throat punch until he learns how to talk to me appropriately. Or anyone else, for that matter.
“You’re still here?” he questions, raising a brow. He may be looking in my direction, but nothing but fury resides in his eyes. It's like he's looking through me and doesn't seem to notice I'm really here. Or human. Looking down, he continues to fiddle with a pick between his fingers, dismissing me. “Jesus,” he mumbles, running a hand through his hair. “I thought I told you...”
“Yeah,” I scoff, waving a hand. “You told me you don’t want anything I have to offer.” I hold up the paycheck in front of his face, happily watching the color drain from every inch of him when I tear it in half and then tear it into tiny pieces, throwing it in the air like little pieces of confetti. “I guess you didn’t want your paycheck either. You know, the one we bargained for over email? But fuck you and your high and mighty bullshit,” I spit through clenched teeth, turning on my heel and storming off the back of the stage without a look back. The heat of his burning gaze stares after me when I march down the stairs, stomping my feet into the old creaky wood.
As I round the stage next to the security guard, he holds his hand in the air. With a smirk, I high-five him, only letting my rage settle for half a second. The girls around him titter and gossip about me, and I laugh internally when Bert finally shoos them away and kicks them out of the bar.
“Way to go, boss,” he murmurs with a tiny whoop, barking out a laugh when I nod my head at him. If I speak any more than I have, I’ll blow a damn gasket.
My fingernails dig into the palm of my hand, leaving blood-stained crescent moons behind. As I march across the empty bar with my boss’s office in mind, a familiar face joins Assface—that's his name now because he doesn't deserve the name, Kieran—on stage with a disapproving frown.
Rad looks at me without an ounce of recognition and then at his bandmate, shaking his head. If I had more time and energy, I’d ogle the lean, shirtless man hovering on stage, giving his friend a disapproving look. But I'm all out of fucks to give. They flew the coop the moment that assface dismissed me with a growl and wrist flick.
In high school, Rad sported the most ridiculous-looking mullet, pairing it with his new mustache. He's grown into his style, becoming a man all on his own. But the remnants of who he once was, has my heart squeezing when more unwanted memories pour through my mind at the sight of him, reliving one of the worst days of my life.
“Dude, what the hell did you do?” Rad says to Kieran with outrage, tinting his tone.
Stopping my retreat, I knock away the awful memories pushing at the forefront of my mind and lock them deep inside. They beg to reemerge and haunt me, but I don't let them. Long ago, I forced them down, and I never want to think about that day again. Not even with him, my hero, standing before me.
Leaning against the solid door leading to the long, private hallway, I pause to see what Assface has to say for himself because it had better be good.
My eyes narrow at the shirtless drummer, absentmindedly twirling a drumstick, pinching his face with concern. Dark eyes take me in from the stage above until he growls, focusing all his attention on the rude as fuck singer.
“Come on, man, you can’t not be an asshole for like all of five seconds?” His shouts echo off the walls. Satisfaction soars through me at his outrage, and I smirk, watching the other guy sputter for words. “Fix it, Kieran!” he shouts, pointing at me before I slip into the long, abandoned hallway, letting the door shut firmly behind me.
Passing the bathrooms and a storage closet, I make my way down the checkered linoleum hallway before I finally make it to the back office and enter the room. The once cluttered space now sits clean and organized.
Becoming a manager didn't happen overnight. Hell, it took four years of hard, greasy work. I've been watching Booker run this place for years, taking the opportunity to learn the ins and outs of everything from staffing to taxes to buying food and alcohol. Last month, Booker took the training wheels off and let me manage it as a test to see if I could hack it. I may be too young to run a bar, but Booker trusts me with his baby. I've never been more thankful for the opportunities he's granted me. Despite my mother breaking up with him, having him in my life has been a godsend. I don't know where I'd be financially if it weren't for him suggesting this was a possibility.
The silence stretches around me when I walk into my shared office and lean against the once-cluttered desk—gripping the edges to collect myself. In ten seconds, I need to slip back out of this office with a new check and present them with their money.
Even though they’re dicks. Okay, huge dicks.
This is business, and I need their business to continue to grow. The bigger their band gets, the more money I get, and the faster I can run away from this town to my dream college a few states away. All I have to do is survive community college and work two jobs. Easy peasy.
I swallow my damn pride and lean over to collect the company checkbook and write a new check out to the band.
To the Whispered Words, you sack of shits, here’s the money I owe you—$1,000.00
I sigh, rub my tired eyes, and flip to the next check. As much as they deserve the first one, written with all my rage, I make a new check with their correct name and a much friendlier tone.
Whispered Words, $1,000.00.
As I rip the first check out to throw out, the office door slams open in a rush, shutting with a heavy thud. An embarrassing squeal leaves my lips as I stare into the same eyes that have left me breathless for many years.
Glazed-over eyes take me in, somehow looking slightly less harsh and judgmental. This time, Kieran doesn’t look down at me with disdain or disgust. Nope. It vanished from his expression. His eyes linger down my body, taking in the ripped shorts I stuffed my flat ass into and the tight black shirt clinging to my body. He swallows hard, slowly drifting his gaze up my torso and resting them on the words—River and manager resting on my tit.
“I bet you wish you looked at my tits before you dismissed me, huh?” I growl, crossing my arms over my chest, blocking his view.
Snapping his gaze up to mine, a renewed sense of anger ignites in the back of his eyes.
“If you would have just fucking told me you were the goddamned manager,” he scoffs again, throwing his hand in the air like this is all my fault.
What an assface. Seriously? All the oxygen leaves my lungs, renewing my rage.
“Like that would have made a fucking difference?” I growl back, pushing his hard chest two times. Much to my satisfaction, I knock Kieran back a few steps, catching him off guard. His eyes bulge at me when I curl my fingers in his shirt, holding him upright. “You didn’t even give me the time of day. Maybe you should learn some respect, Knight,” I hiss his name like a curse, never wanting to speak it again. It feels foreign on my tongue, having not been uttered for so many years.
My Knight—the boy who swooped in and saved my pitiful ass from the bullies around the apartment complex and at school. He saved me more times than I can count and was my closest ally until he disappeared.
Something sparkles in the depths of his eyes. He gives a knowing glance when he looks down at me again and reads my name before meeting my eyes again, searching for the answers. All the color drains from his face, and he shakes his head with confusion. Swallowing hard, he licks his lips with a mist glazing over his eyes. His breaths hiccup until he finally returns to himself, and the realization settles in. Every inch of gruffness he displayed before disappears, and before me is the Kieran I knew when I was a kid.
"It's you," he whispers softly, easing the rugged plains of his face, almost disbelieving. His eyes scan my face like he's trying to memorize every inch. "Fucking Callum. I wished he had told me who he was emailing," he murmurs, shaking his head. Shadows lift from his eyes, and a lightness breaks through, bringing back the carefree knight I once knew.
“Tell me now,” he whispers in a softer tone, leaning down so our noses touch and our lips rest a millimeter apart. I'd beg him to close the distance and fuse our lips if I didn't loathe his existence right now. “Tell me now, River Blue,” he says the last part so softly I swear I’m getting whiplash.
Anger? Happy? Horny? Who knows? This guy is a friggin enigma I should run far away from. In fact, I should high-tail it out of this office before I do anything stupid. Like, fuck him. Now that would be a huge mistake. I glare into his beautiful, mismatched eyes, drawing me into his dangerous web. Piece by piece, I fall deeper into his gaze.
Holy disintegrating panties. If I don't remove myself from this situation, bad things will happen. Or good things, depending on how you look at it.
Sweat breaks out on my neck, lifting the hairs. His eyes dilate, almost turning black with desire. My fingers tighten on his shirt, torn between throwing him out of the room and having him bend me over. Right here. Right fucking now.
“I am River West, the manager of Dead End," I rasp, licking my lips. His eyes follow the movement, and he steps even closer. "Here is your damn check. Maybe we can do business again,” I say in a breathless voice, loosening my grip on his sweat-soaked shirt and shoving the check into his chest.
Now—this is the moment I should try to back away and fully uncurl my fingers from his shirt instead of standing there eagerly awaiting his next move. I really should go home. Because, you know, he's an asshole, and I shouldn't put up with it. He dismissed me, yet I want to bang him into next week. Just call it scratching an itch and leave it at that.
So, it shouldn't surprise me when he grabs my wrist and clucks his cocky as fuck tongue at me. A smirk lifts the edge of his lip, yanking me forward and pulling my entire front into his. My eyes narrow, dangerously close to stabbing the fucker in the dick for even thinking he can manhandle me. I palm the knife in my pocket, ten seconds away from yanking it out and threatening his manhood. But then he looks at me—really looks at me, taking me in.
My breaths pick up, a strange sensation tingling across my skin. I soften against the rugged plains of his body, soaking in the way he feels against me once again. When he looks down at me, something strange sparks in his eyes, and I can't place the soft expression. His wide eyes drift to where our bodies fuse, where a weird possessiveness vibrates through his chest in the form of a growl, and something stiff pokes into my belly.
My breath shudders and my mind spirals out of control. How can we go from wanting to rip each other's hair out to wanting to tear each other's clothes off? Huh? This whole situation is bat shit crazy, yet my panties cling to my eager pussy, ready to fucking receive him—traitorous hussy.
He bites into his bottom lip and nods approvingly. His meaty grip weaves through my ponytail, ripping my head back with a sharp yank. Embarrassment tints my cheeks when rogue moans leak between my lips, and his rough grip rips my roots out.
Rock stars and their dirty mouths and expert tongues hold me hostage and weaken my damn legs, proving once again to be my fucking kryptonite.
Kieran leisurely holds me by my damn ponytail, gently tugging as he stuffs the check into his jeans pocket. Every inch of my body is apparently attracted to assholes like him. Proving to me I can never get enough. But it's him—Kieran. And that leaves me with conflicting feelings. WHYYYYYY???? Why does it have to feel so damn good and bad and wrong all at the same time?
“Yeah,” he groans, getting in my face. “I think we can do business, but not in the future. Right now. We have some fucking business to finish.”
The entire world tilts when Assface slams his lips into mine, and fucking seals our fate with his wild tongue diving into my mouth. I loosen my grip on his shirt entirely, dragging my nails through his shaggy black locks. He grunts into my mouth when I scratch his scalp and dig my nails in deeper, loving how his massive body shivers against mine.
His teeth sink into my bottom lip, dragging it out and sucking it. I swear my eyes roll so far into the back of my head I see my damn brain—if I had one, that is. I melt when a metallic taste explodes on my tastebuds, and he thrusts his tongue back into mine, and I moan.
Fuuuckkkk. It’s been a hot minute since I’ve gotten some, and let’s just say I'm thirsty, and Kieran is the tall glass of ‘What the fuck am I about to do?’ I’ve been craving.
So, I internally make the call. We fuck. We leave. End of fucking story. Just like all the other musicians who have come through. He's a dick. But I'm goddamn horny.
“This doesn’t mean anything,” I growl out, trying to shove him back to take control, but it does nothing. He’s a damn, immovable brick wall keeping me trapped.
Using his grip on my ponytail, he forcefully spins me, pinning me against the edge of my boss’s desk. My hips cut painfully into the sharp wood as he jerks my neck to the side, extending it until pain erupts.
I shiver through the delicious sensation exploding through my body when his warm fingers trail up under my shirt, stopping against the ribs near my boob. My heart beats like a damn drum inside my chest, waiting for him to make his next move. Come on, asshole. Do something already.
A small, desperate whimper leaks through my tightly pressed lips when he leans over me, pressing his hard chest into my back. And that’s not the only thing that’s hard about him. His warm breaths brush against my ear when he chuckles, tightening his grip around my ribs and grinding himself against my ass. His breaths echo in my ear when his wet tongue rolls over my earlobe until he finally latches on and sucks it into his mouth.
"This means everything, River Blue," he murmurs, and my heart cracks in half at the massive emotions soaring through me. It's the name he called me so many years ago.
Sliding his fingers beneath my bra, I gasp when he pinches my nipple between his fingertips and thrusts my ass into his hard dick. “Fuck, River Blue,” he grunts, squeezing harder. “Where have you been?” he whispers again, shaking his head. "I can't believe… It didn't even cross my mind that it was you. The girl from my past."
“Where I've always been,” I moan when he kneads my entire tit in his hand like dough. “You were the one who left without a word.” Hurt leaks into my voice, and he stops, pressing his forehead into my shoulder. "You didn't even say goodbye."
"Let me make it up to you, then," he murmurs against my neck. "Let me show you how much I've missed you."
Kieran doesn’t waste a moment when he flicks the button to my shorts and pulls them down my legs to my ankles. He uses his leverage to force me over the desk, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.
“All soaked for me?” he whispers in my ear, pulling my thong to the side and letting his fingers explore my soaked core. "I want to hear you say it, River Blue." I shiver at the sound of my stupid full name, the one I hate so damn much, falling from his lips.
His fingers go up and down through my slick folds but never plunge in. My back arches in desperation, silently begging him to fuck me before I do it my own damn self.
“Quit playing, Kieran,” I moan when his fingers lightly circle my clit in lazy circles. I'm about to bite his damn fingers if he doesn't get me off. "And fuck me like you hate me already!" I cry out in desperation when one finger enters me and swirls around.
“Then admit it,” he whispers, nipping at my earlobe. “Admit that you’re gushing for me, and only me. Admit it.” My pussy clamps around his finger with every word he speaks, begging this asshole to do me in.
“Yeah, I’m wet for you. Now, what the fuck are you going to do about it?” I hiss, jerkily turning my head to the side to stare back at him.
His beautiful eyes dilate, and he looks me square in the eyes. A sly smirk picks up the left side of his lips before he jams his fingers so far inside my pussy that I come on the spot, seeing white stars. I heave a breath, trying to drag oxygen into my sputtering lungs. Sweat trickles down my spine when his fingers continue their delicious assault.
“Good girl. That’s what I thought,” he murmurs. “You’re going to take my cock, River Blue. And you’re going to cum all over it again and again." Possession takes over his voice, dipping it into a deep growl.
My eyes roll into the back of my head. Like breathing life into me, every inch of my body comes alive for the first time in months under his rough touch. Goosebumps erupt across my flesh, and my toes curl into the worn-out linoleum. This is what I'm talking about. Now, slap my ass and tell me I'm a good fucking girl, and we'll be peachy.
“Whatever you say, Assface.” I pant when the sound of a condom wrapper ripping fills the air, and my damn pussy clenches around nothing.
“I have a fucking name, River,” he whispers my name into my ear like a fucking prayer he's preparing to chant for eternity. “And I want you to fucking scream it. Say it with me,” he grunts, rolling on the condom with one hand, securing my hair, and keeping me still with the other. He kicks my feet apart, forcing my ass to arch into the air even more. “Say it. Say, Kieran. Say my name, the one you used to. I want to hear it fall from your lips,” he says through clenched teeth, rubbing the tip of his dick through my folds, sending a thrill of shivers down my spine. “Say it, for the love of all things holy, River! Say my goddamn name so I can fuck you over this desk.”
Everything inside me says to walk away, no matter how good this feels. Kieran is a walking, talking disaster. The moment I say his name out loud, it will solidify what we had so long ago.
The memory of my first kiss floats to mind. Kieran and I played in the apartment pool late in the evening alone. One second, he was splashing me; the next, his lips were on mine. Before I could react, he had pulled away with a blush and quickly ran home. Leaving me there to consider what had happened. The next time I saw him, he acted like it didn't happen, and we were just friends like we always had been.
"My Knight," I rasp through shuddering breaths.
Every muscle in my body contracts when he surges forward, growling like a beast and burying himself so deep inside me that I swear my cervix brushes his tip, and I meet God himself behind my eyelids. White static takes over my vision. Stars burst. The fucking angels sing their hallelujahs! I try to keep my moans at bay but fuck it. That won't happen.
“Holy fuck, Kieran,” I say through a shuddering moan, my mouth gaping open.
“That’s right, scream it for the entire bar to hear,” he grunts, slamming his hips against mine repeatedly until the sound of flesh hitting flesh fills the office above my loud moans. "Let them know who's giving you the best fuck of your life."
I grip the edge of the desk with all my might when it scratches against the floor, leaving indents and scrapes.
“Touch yourself,” Kieran begs through a rasp. “Cum on my cock. Do it!” he demands, grabbing my wrist and forcing my fingers to swirl around my aching clit with heavy pressure. "Good fucking girl,” he hisses when my pussy contracts around him, and I gasp for air. “Cum,” he demands in a single growl, picking up his pace.
With one demand from his gravelly voice, I fucking detonate like a bomb, contracting around him until he stills behind me and moans so loudly with satisfaction that it fills the air. I'm sure everyone and their mom down the block heard precisely what we were up to. Our heavy breaths echo through the room, and his grip on my hair finally loosens.
“Well, Assface," I retort through heavy breaths, returning to the name I initially chose for him. "That was quite satisfactory. I’d give you a six,” I say through a lazy grin when his body stiffens against mine.
That's right. You can't waltz back into my life like you're my damn savior again—no way in hell. Maybe I should add the finger guns and a thumbs up to really sell how I'm feeling. My body sags, and every ounce of stress evaporates. This was precisely what I needed to clear my mind.
“A six? I’m worth more than a six,” he scoffs into the crease of my neck. His hands wander down my body again, and he pinches my nipples through my bra, sending electricity through my entire body.
“Nah, just a six," I whisper. He kneads my breasts through my bra, drawing more want from my needy body. If I weren't so pissed at him, I'd say fuck it and go another round.
“That performance was way more than a six,” a new voice comes from behind us, startling me.
Kieran protectively tightens his grip on me, keeping his body draped over mine and out of view of our newcomers.
“The fuck are you doing in here?” he hisses, and my entire face heats in embarrassment. Great. I just got the best lay of my life in front of an audience.
“Came to find you, K. I had to make sure you didn’t kill the poor Central Girl. We see now you didn’t. I mean, you beat that pussy up, but God damn,” the man rasps, and I recognize him as the asshole who berated Kieran for being a dick to me—Rad.
“Don't ever say beat that pussy up again,” someone else mutters through a tired sigh.
“Jesus Christ, you assholes, get out!” I hiss, throwing an arm out, but Kieran holds me tighter. “Get the fuck out!” I screech.
“Aw, how cute,” another voice says with a sneer. Instantly, I recognize his preppy ass—Asher Montgomery. The biggest dick that ever walked the halls of Central City High, thinking he was better than everyone else. “We’ll be in the car when you decide to think with your damn brain, not your dick. Hope you get yourself tested too.”
“Yeah, maybe you guys should learn to lock the door,” another voice I recognize now as the bass player, Callum Rose, mumbles, apologizing under his breath.
I blow out my breath when Kieran releases my body and steps back from me so fast that it's like I have a disease. He takes the condom off his flaccid dick and stares at the mess in his hands.
“I can’t believe you didn’t lock the door, Assface,” I say, pulling up my tiny shorts and righting my bra, thong, and shirt. His eyes watch my every damn move with heat resting behind them as he takes every inch of me in.
"You could have, too," he says with a shrug, tossing the condom into the trash like a gentleman. Quickly, he redresses himself but doesn't bother to fix his dark strands standing on end. His eyes heat again when he stares me up and down. "So, you're the River West from the emails?" he questions, taking a step forward.
"Um, that's my name," I say sarcastically, tossing my arms in the air with a shrug.
"You're the same River Blue," he chuckles at that, throwing his head back and staring at the ceiling. "Fuck," he murmurs to himself, blinking several times.
"Yeah, that's me too," I huff, crossing my arms. "Are we done here? Or?"
"We are far from fucking done," he hisses, snapping his gaze to me. "None of this is over," he gestures between us. "I'll be seeing you, River Blue West."
And with that, his toxic ass waltzes out the door, looking back at me with a manic, knowing grin.
What the hell did I just do?