Chapter 23 Riven
Riven
I’m not sure why Sloane came back into the venue, but now we’re at my fucking house.
This is the last place I needed to bring her, yet here we are.
Something shifted on the way here. At first, she seemed nervous and unsure, maybe even a little frustrated.
Now, though, my little nightmare seems to have developed an attitude.
What did I do to deserve it, I wonder? I don’t know whether I should be pissed off or turned on, honestly.
Maybe she realizes that I’d hurt anyone who dares to touch her.
Maybe it was my silence on the drive here.
Either way, I’m fine with it. Bring it on, darling.
Two can play, and I do love a good game.
“Follow me,” I order, stepping in front of her to unlock and open my front door.
“Or what?” she teases back, a devilish grin appearing on her beautiful fucking face.
I chuckle. “You don’t want to find out.” I keep walking, not turning back to make sure she’s following. Somehow, I’m sure that she will. I hear her short steps picking up speed and can’t help the grin that forms beneath my mask.
“Wait! Your legs are so long. Can you slow down?” she whines.
“No. I’m gonna need you to keep up, little nightmare,” I say back.
“Ugh. You stupid …” She mumbles something unintelligible under her breath that I don’t bother asking her to repeat.
“Where are we even goi—” I interrupt her by turning around and grabbing her wrist, pulling her into the room to my right. My office. I drag her over to a sofa and sit her down.
“What is your problem?!” she huffs out, looking down at her wrist. A faint blush spreads across her face.
My girl seems to have a restraint kink. I recall seeing the same look when Professor Riven grabbed her wrist in the parking lot.
The wrist cuff bracelets she’s always wearing are making a lot of sense now.
Interesting. I make a mental note of that, in case I need it later.
“Mine? I don’t have one,” I say, taking a seat in a lounge chair across from her. I lean back and assume an unbothered posture. She lets out a sigh, and when I think she’s given up on the whole attitude thing, she stands up and starts sprinting toward the door.
What the fuck?
I sit stunned for a few seconds before standing and following after her.
I don’t run, I don’t need to. Instead, I walk toward my front door, which she ran out of.
Once I clear the door frame, I see her running toward the trees.
Oh my, what fun this is going to be. She glances over her shoulder to see that I’m following, and I notice the fear in her eyes.
I also notice something else. I choose this moment to tell that voice in my head that I’m not myself right now.
All of the blood rushes straight from my brain to my cock. Now, I run.
I catch up to Sloane in about thirty seconds as she’s running past one of the large redwood trees to her right.
I grab her around the waist from behind, circling my arms around her.
I lift her to start carrying her back to the house.
I’m in the process of spinning her around and tossing her over my shoulder, but she keeps kicking her legs like an insolent child.
“Let me go!” she screams, spit flying from her mouth.
“Not a chance,” I say directly into her ear that’s closest to my mouth.
She continues kicking and screaming, and I decide that I’ve had enough of her little tantrum.
I put her down, and she goes to run. I expect as much, so I have both of her wrists in my hands behind her before she can make it more than two steps.
I pull her hands together, walking forward until her chest is pressed up against a tree.
I press myself into her back, bringing my mouth down to her left ear.
“Are you done?” I whisper. She’s breathing deeply. I watch as a constellation of goosebumps ripples across the bare skin of her upper back, exposing her desires.
“Y-yes,” she replies. I release her wrists and spin her around, pressing her back into the tree.
My hands go to the tree bark on either side of her head, caging her in.
She looks into my mask, eyes wild, chest moving up and down in sync with her rapid breathing.
Her skin glistens with a sheen of sweat, and her eyes are alight with a fire that I’ve seen a time or two.
“Why did you come back in, Sloane?” I snarl.
“W-what?” she asks, breathless. Her eyes cut through my mask like it’s nothing, like she already knows what’s underneath. I don’t like how exposed I suddenly feel.
“Why did you come back into the venue?” I repeat, more specifically.
“Oh. I had to see you. After what happened, I …” She averts her gaze, looking toward the ground. My right hand seems to have taken on a mind of its own as it moves from the tree to her chin, tilting her face back up to mine.
“Look at me. Talk to me,” I say, without thought.
She looks at me with … pity? Or is that sorrow? Either way, I can’t stand it. I release her and retreat a couple of steps. She moves toward me, placing her right hand on my cheek. I freeze, unable to move or breathe, or formulate a single coherent thought.
“Are you okay?” she asks. It’s not the words I expected to hear from her mouth in this moment.
“What?” I ask.
“After what happened in the hallway tonight, are you … okay?” she asks again. Oh, how the tables have turned. Except, I don’t want to fucking talk about that.
“I’m fine,” I say, a little too harshly. I move out of her grasp. She isn’t buying it. Instead, she seems to have reconnected with that little attitude of hers from earlier.
“You know what? Fine!” she says, raising her voice.
She points a finger at me accusingly. “Deal with this your fucking self, then! You and I both know you were jealous of his hands on my body.” She drags both of her hands down over the sides of her breasts, moving them down to her waist and hips.
“I was going to go home with him, you know. Maybe have a good ti—”
I’ve heard enough. In two seconds, I’m charging her, and we’re tumbling to the ground. I cradle the back of her head to ease the blow, and then I grab both of her wrists and pin them above her head, straddling her.
“Don’t … say … another … fucking … word,” I spit out.
My heart is pounding in my ears, and I can hardly think past the feeling of pure anger bubbling inside my veins.
Her chest is once again heaving, and her crop top is riding up, exposing the underneath of her perfect fucking tits to me.
Her nipples are pebbled against the thin clothing, and I can’t stop the swelling of my cock in response to it.
I grab both of her wrists in one hand, moving the other beneath her jaw.
I push her head back, and her breathing accelerates.
I know she might think she’s pissed off right now, but I can tell she’s also enjoying this. A deep chuckle escapes me.
“Now tell me, what were you going to do with that piece of shit guy who had his hands where they don’t belong?” I ask, moving my hand from her throat to pull a pocketknife out of my pants and flip it open. I want to test a theory of my own. Her eyes flick to the blade, and she inhales sharply.
“I-I was—” She swallows, pushing her hips up into me. Does she even notice she’s doing it? “I was going to go home with him,” she finishes.
I bring the tip of the blade to her chest above her shirt, pressing it into her skin just enough to draw a thin line of blood. I run the blade straight down. I still the blade when a moan escapes her lips, because that response is not what I expected. It’s even better.
“Mmmm,” I murmur. “What were you going to let him do to you, then?” I bring the blade to the top of her shirt and cut right through it.
Her breasts pop out. And illuminated by the moonlight, surrounded by the forest, they’re even more perfect than I remember.
She gasps, looking down at what I’ve done to her.
She doesn’t fight me off. Instead, she plays the game.
“I was gonna let him touch me … here.” She pulls at my hand that’s still pinning her wrists together above her head, and I let one of them go.
I need to see where here is. She moves her hand down to her nipple, tugging at it before moving it to her other one to do the same.
I trace the path lightly with the blade, not breaking the skin this time.
Goosebumps climb over her breasts in response.
She arches her back into the touch. It takes everything in me not to give in to the need that I feel tearing me apart from the inside out.
Instead, I say, “Show me where else you’d let him touch you.” She obeys, swallowing hard, as she moves her hand down over her navel. She moves lower until her hand is beneath the waistband of her ripped, black jeans.
“Here,” she says. “I’d let him taste me, here.” Fuuuuuck. I groan. She’s moving her hand inside of her pants now, arching her neck. Then, she moans.
“Fuck, Sloane.” I lose myself to the moment. “You’re so pretty when you touch yourself.” This response only seems to push her further. Her hand moves faster, and her back arches from the ground even more.
“Mmmm. Van, I think I’m gonna …” she moans, breathless. I grab her hand, pulling it away right before she can finish that thought. She opens her eyes and gasps, obviously pissed off. Although she can’t see it, I smile.
“Did you think I’d let you come that easily after the attitude you’ve had all night?” I ask, holding her wrist in one hand. She whimpers with the need to finish what she started.
“Do you want to come, Sloane? Should I let you finish?” I ask, pulling up my mask just enough to expose my mouth. I bring her hand to my lips and put her index and middle fingers in my mouth, sucking her arousal off of them with a groan.
“God, Sloane, you taste so fucking good.” Her eyes widen, and her mouth pops open, and I don’t miss the obvious blush that colors her cheeks.
“You love this, don’t you? You love being chased through the forest by a masked man who wants to fuck that attitude right out of you, don’t you?
” My thoughts stream without a filter. I’ll have to have a conversation with myself later, but now is not that time.
I’m too far gone. Sloane nods, seemingly at a loss for words.
“Words, little nightmare,” I say.
“Please … please let me come,” she begs.
I release her hand and flip her over until she’s on all fours.
I grab her jeans and pull them down to her knees, noticing that she isn’t wearing any underwear.
I’m beginning to think that she doesn’t own any.
I groan, pushing her back down until her face rests gently against the forest floor.
I spread her legs farther apart with my knees, bringing my hand down to her center.
She’s soaking fucking wet. I move my hand in slow, careless circles, dipping one inside of her.
“So wet for me, Sloane,” I purr. She releases a moan, finally receiving what she’s been desperately seeking.
“Yes, Van. Yes, please,” she begs. I continue my back and forth between her clit and her center, picking up my pace.
“I love hearing you beg, Sloane. So needy, aren’t you?” I grab a handful of her hair with my other hand and tug her head back.
“That’s it. You’re doing so good for me,” I say, knowing the praise will send her over the edge. Her breathing picks up, and I feel her pussy tightening around my fingers.
“Van, I think I’m about to …” she pants between breathy moans.
“I know, little nightmare, I know. Let go for me.” I tug her head back a little harder, ensuring that it stings. She moans louder, reassuring me that she’s enjoying the pain as much as the pleasure.
“Van!” she screams as the orgasm wrecks her like a tidal wave, pulling her under until she can barely breathe.
“Fuck, yes, Sloane. Scream for me,” I say, feeling my own release building at the sound of my stage name leaving her lips.
I pull out my cock and start fisting it in my hand, unable to wait a second longer.
She looks back, trying to flip over. I push her back down.
I use the wetness from her orgasm to coat my length, and then I pick up speed.
Before long, I feel that spine-tingling sensation build up, hitting me so fucking hard that I nearly fall over before catching myself with my other hand.
“Fuuuuckk,” I groan, erupting all over her back. The sight of it alone makes me want to flip her over and fuck her right here, but I don’t. I’ve already gone too far.
I grab the back of my shirt and pull it off in a single motion, using it to clean her up.
I flip her over gently and cradle her in my arms, lifting her off the ground.
She gazes up at me, eyes hazy with the remnants of her orgasm.
Sweat coats her chest and neck. I brush a strand of damp hair off her cheek and tuck it behind her ear. Her mouth falls open on a small sigh.
“Let’s get you inside and cleaned up,” I say, as she rests her head against my chest. I begin walking back to the house.
I have no idea what I’m doing as we head back inside, and I walk straight through my living room, down the hall, into my bedroom, and finally my bathroom.
I still have no clue what motivates me as I sit her on the edge of the tub and start running a bath of warm water.
She doesn’t speak, watching as I grab a couple of towels and body wash out of the closet and set them on the ledge beside her.
I go to my dresser next to grab one of my T-shirts and bring it back to sit it on the vanity counter.
“For you,” I say, pointing to the shirt. “I’ll be in the living room when you’re finished.” I consider asking her if she wants me to stay. She stares at me in astonishment, but nods. I fight my urges as I close the door to the bathroom and lean against it, taking a deep, cleansing breath.
What the fuck am I doing?