Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

Clark

MY HEART IS BEATING right out of my chest. I wasn’t this bold even when I was younger. I don’t know what’s come over me, but the moment I spotted River leaving the cafeteria tonight, I lurched to my feet and followed. I found my way back to his cabin without the help of my phone’s flashlight, retracing my steps from several days ago. Then he opened the door, and the moment I saw him standing there sweaty and shirtless, those words gusted out of me.

“Will you shut up and let me touch you already?”

His eyebrows rise. I bully my way closer to him before either of us can give voice to the obvious questions bubbling up between us. I don’t want to question this. I don’t want to question myself. I’ve been doing that enough since the night he massaged me, and it hasn’t brought me anything but cringing confusion. After days of stuffing down the desires he awoke in me, I’m done thinking. I want to do .

I throw the door shut behind me, but it barely has time to thud before I drape my arms around River’s neck and kiss him. He catches me, hands going right to my waist, like it’s some sort of reflex for him. His mouth is soft and surprised, yet his hands land right where I need them. After a moment, his lips find their way as well, firm against my mouth, pressing back to answer my need.

I slide my hand into his hair, letting the grasp of my fingers speak for me. River breathes deeply against me, his hands grasping me harder, letting me know he hears me, he understand, he agrees . Thank God I don’t have to explain. As badly as I’ve ached for him for the past few days, I think I’d lose my nerve if I had to use words.

When we break, he gazes into my eyes. I don’t know what he’s searching for, but he must find it because he begins unzipping my jacket and sliding it down my arms so it can puddle on the floor atop the shoes in the entryway. He strips me of my shirt next, hands reverent when they brush against my body.

I shiver, but not with cold. Even the most accidental touch brims with awe when River is involved. He walks backward, leaving the choice of where this will go up to me. Even in my most active days, I wasn’t really one to be in charge, so I fumble awkwardly when River leaves so many options open to me. Finally, an idea strikes me.

“Where’s that oil you used?” I say.

“There on the dresser,” River says, nodding his chin.

I grab the massage oil before I can think too hard. Thankfully, River climbs onto the bed before I can ask, lying down while propping himself up on his elbows so he can watch me rub oil into my hands.

I may not know quite what I’m doing here or exactly what’s compelling me to act so rashly, but I do know how to touch a man’s body. I climb onto the bed after him, straddling his thighs so I’m sitting in his lap facing him. The way he props himself up makes his arms strain, muscle taut across his chest. I didn’t realize yoga instructors had perfect abs, but it makes sense — and I’m grateful either way. I start there, running my hands up the firm muscle of his torso, all the way to the hair scattered across his chest. Then I rub back down to start the process again.

River’s breathing deepens under my touch. The heat of his skin warms my palms. The oil slicks his skin, highlighting every muscle, every curve, every crease. I could dig my fingers into every inch of him, explore until his body is mapped to my fingertips. I quickly notice that when my hands stray near a nipple, he sucks in a deeper breath, and I amend my course on my next pass so that my thumbs flick him.

River sucks in a sharp breath. His chest arches toward me, his whole body reacting to that brush. I’m sure if I sat forward I’d feel his hard cock under me, and my body burns at the thought.

I shove it aside. That’s far too much for now. Plus, I haven’t done something like that in ages. Yet the desire sears through me, leaving a brand that won’t simply fade away and disappear. I know I’ll be thinking about it long after this, regardless of what happens here tonight.

In fact, it has me shifting my hips as I rub him down. I’m rocking atop him like I really am riding him, and River falls flat onto his back and reaches for my thighs to encourage me. It forces me to lean farther over him, and his hips start moving with me, rocking us like we’re … like we’re really…

“Clark,” he groans, “you’re making me crazy.”

I’m making myself crazy. My cock aches. My gut clenches tight. My hands squeeze his chest, and when River moans in response, my hips roll forward on their own.

I gasp. His hard cock brushes mine, and even through all our clothes, it’s the sweetest sort of torment. Without thinking, I go for it again, but harder now that I know what I’m aiming for. I sway forward while my hands squeeze his chest, grinding my hard cock against his, and River moans shamelessly under me, fingers digging into my thighs.

Oh fuck. I did not come here prepared for that tonight. I never thought…

I scramble for an alternative, something that will sate what I’ve unwittingly unleashed. There are a lot of ways to touch another person, to enjoy another person, but I’ve accidentally steered our appetites in a particular direction.

“I can’t do that tonight,” I confess, “but if you wanted to…”

River flips me over before I can finish. I blink and suddenly I’m on my back, River looming over me, thunderclouds of desire darkening his stormy gray eyes. He undoes the drawstring of his pants and takes them off without ceremony. I’m still sizing up his delicious cock when he gets my pants off me as well, flinging the clothing aside. He reaches for the massage oil I used and spreads it liberally on both our cocks. Then he lies atop me, his weight pressing me into the mattress, his arms on either side of my head, his blue hair cascading past his shoulders like a curtain enshrouding us in this moment.

He looks right into my eyes when he moves his hips, and the moan that rips through me escapes without a beat of artifice. He watches my mouth open, watches my eyebrows curl, watches my head tilt back as the friction of our bodies zaps through me. I grab at his arms, clinging to him as my hips roll to meet his and grind our cocks together.

My eyes want to close, but River’s are steady and piercing, a storm brewing in those gray depths. I can’t look away, captured by his unrelenting gaze. His arms flex under my grasp while his hips roll at me. With every motion, our cocks slide and grind, sometimes sloppily, sometimes with enough friction to make me gasp. I arch at him, contributing whatever I can, but with River in control, all I really want to do is let go and shatter.

He shifts, moving one leg over mine. It changes the angle enough that the next time he moves his hips, I shout and squeeze my eyes shut from sudden pleasure.

“So good, Clark,” River says, words washing against my face. “God, yes.”

I don’t know what I’m doing for him but lying here, but the praise hits me like a jolt of caffeine anyway. I reach higher, reach for him. River lowers down, heeding my desperate plea. He lies fully atop me, pressing our bodies together from hip to chest, and kisses me into the bed.

It’s ferocious. I nearly forget to breathe as his mouth sucks the air from my lungs. I’m melting into the mattress beneath me, my whole body limp and pliant. River is everywhere, his presence filling up the world, pushing away everything that exists outside of this one little cabin in the forest. The retreat, the yoga classes, my job — all of it evaporates like clouds blown away by that storm howling in River’s gray eyes.

For the first time in years, I let it all go.

I throw my arms around his neck, holding him against me, insisting on kissing him. He jerks his hips against me, and I respond in kind. Our bodies crash together, a jumble of limbs, a cascade of raw need smashing together like cars colliding in a spray of metal. There’s no order to it, no sense, no plan, but I give myself over to it anyway, letting go of everything that’s been holding me back for the past several days. The whole time, all I can think is: God, why didn’t I do this sooner?

Then that thought dissolves along with all the rest. My head empties of everything but noise and sensation. It’s colors and shapes, the world broken down to its most basic forms, and it sweeps me along like a roaring flood.

The bed groans under us. River lowers his head, lips sealed on my neck. Moans drop past my lips, a whole barrage of them unleashed all at once. Our bodies grind desperately, hideously. Sweat builds where our chests press together. My fingers dig into River’s broad shoulders, and he groans against me, his voice trembling straight into my throat.

Somewhere amid the tumble, I realize I’m breaking. The tension deep, deep inside me surges to the surface. I throw my head back and moan even louder, eyes squeezing shut so hard color pops behind them. River makes a quieter noise against me and holds me tight as this need he’s stoked within me finally erupts onto our writhing bodies. I jerk my hips at him through it, somehow needing more even as I crest. Or perhaps what I really need is to know he’s with me. An instant later, he’s moaning against me as more warmth spurts onto my body, the mess between us thickening.

River collapses atop me, heavy and limp, but I don’t push him away. I let him pant on top of me, enjoying the way his chest presses closer with every breath.

When he pushes himself up I almost complain, but the cold prickle of air reminds me of what a mess I am. Water hisses in the bathroom, and River returns with a damp rag for me. Yet even when I clean myself up, I don’t drag myself out of his bed and start getting dressed like I should. I could claim I need more time to recover, but it’s been plenty long. I could leave if I wanted to.

Which could only mean…

“Will you stay?” River says.

He’s sitting beside me in the bed, unabashedly nude. Nervous fingers pick at the sheets as he awaits my answer.

“Okay,” I say before I can think too hard about it.

A smile warms his face. River encourages me to shuffle under the sheets with him and then … and then he lies there holding me. And I let him, not complaining about the way he hugs me against his chest, not commenting on the way our bare skin touches as we drift off to sleep in his bed.