River James (Rockers Of Steel #3)

by Mj Fields

  He nibbles on me, sucks on me, and I bury my face in the cushion of the couch as my grip on it tightens, crying out as I feel the first wave of an orgasm crash through me.

  Both of his hands are on my ass now, spreading me wider as he growls before pushing his tongue deep inside. Savage sounds escape him as he buries his face deeper against me, licking, lapping, sucking me so intensely that I immediately come again.

  He continues lapping slowly at me as I come down from the most intense oral encounter I have ever experienced. My body sags against the couch, and his mouth leaves me.

  He chuckles before I feel the sting of a hand against my ass.

  “Don’t get too fucking comfortable. I’m gonna fuck that pussy I just tasted. Then I’m gonna tap that fine, fine ass.”

  “Like hell—”

  I feel his finger push inside me, rendering me speechless.

  “Trust me, sexy. I will not”—he pauses and I hear the rip of foil—”disappoint you. You sure as fuck haven’t disappointed me, and I haven’t even been inside yet.”

  With that, he pushes into me fully, too fucking fully. I can’t even cry out, because I feel like the wind has been knocked out of me.

  His body now covers mine as he hisses in my ear, “Don’t move. Don’t fucking move or I’m gonna come so hard I may rip this tight pussy to shreds.” He grinds into me and rotates his hips. “Don’t. Fucking. Move.”

  “I … I …”

  “Swear to fuck, I need to stretch you out a bit. Then I am gonna fuck you so hard, so deep, so fucking nasty that I’m gonna have to carry your ass to bed to do it again.” His deep, dark laugh rumbles through me.

  “Holy hell,” I moan as he continues rotating his hips, stretching me.

  He stills then hisses, “Hell ain’t shit. Been there, done that, dethroned the motherfucker. Hang on, sexy.” His fingers grip my hips. “When I’m done, you’ll be wishing you could go to Hell for a reprieve.” He grips behind my knee and pulls my leg up, holding it against the couch as he slams into me.

  “Fucking beautiful,” he groans. “Never had a pussy that framed me like yours. Fuck!” He pounds against me mercilessly, deep, hard, and fast, over and over again until I feel my knee buckle.

  His hand squeezes my ass tightly. “Stay with me. Stay. Fucking. With. Me.”

  The rhythm is almost too much. The places he hits have never been touched. The painful force becomes pleasure as the pace slows and he nearly withdraws, and I ache to be filled again.

  When he slams back into me, I swear I see lights, a tunnel. I am sure that I am going to die before he finishes, and if I do, that’s fine with me.

  “I need to come. Come with me.”

  “Can’t,” I pant.

  “The fuck you can’t.” He grinds against me hard, then reaches in front of me and strokes my clit. “Give it to me.”

  “Oh, oh, god.”

  “Give. It. To Me,” he demands, and I feel him swell inside of me as he pushes his finger hard against me. “Now.”

  I fall apart at his command, his touch, and I fall in brilliant colors, hearing his groans, grunts, and hisses as he comes. Then he lowers my leg and pulls me up against him.

  “Bedroom,” he pants. “Lead the way.”

  My body is still trembling as I walk toward my room.

  I point to the door. “Right there. I need to use the bathroom.”

  I walk in then close the door behind me, lean against it, and try to catch my breath.

  “Unreal,” I mutter under my breath, still trying to figure out how the hell I just let that happen. “Get it together, girl. Go show him who is boss.”

  I unzip and step out of my boots, grab a washcloth, and clean the important parts. Then I grab my lavender, silk robe off the back of the bathroom door, wrap it around myself, brush my teeth, and then head out the door.

  I walk in my room to find him lying gloriously naked, sprawled out on my bed.

  “What took you so long?” He smiles and grabs his dick, stroking it. “I’m ready for round two. How about you take that off and climb on? I wanna see those tits from front row, center.”

  “Change of plans,” I tell him, walking to my dresser and opening the bottom drawer. I turn around and hold up my leopard print cuffs, allowing them to fall out, exposing them to him.

  He smiles and shakes his head. “I think I proved out there I don’t need to tie you down.”

  “These are for me to tie you down. I’m in control this time.”

  He laughs loudly. “Fuck it. I’m no stranger to cuffs, so let’s fucking play. You be the cop. I’ll be the criminal.” His eyes crease slightly as he sits up, holding out his arms for me.

  “That’s not how it works. How about you lie back down.” He does. “Arms stretched out,” I instruct, walking to one side of the bed, where I take one set of cuffs and snap it around his wrist.

  He chuckles until I attach it to the bedpost.

  “You’ve done this before, haven’t you?” He smirks.

  “I’ve been in bed with a few men, River. Is that gonna be a problem?” I ask the same question he asked me. “I’m not looking for a relationship; I don’t take orders in life; I don’t follow rules; and I fuck my way.”

  He shakes his head, repeating what I said to him. “You fuck me right, understand? I come, you come …”

  “I can assure you I know exactly how to fuck.” I reach across him, taking the other hand more gently than the first. “I’ll be careful.”

  “You be whatever you wanna be. Just be on my dick soon.”

  “My show, my rules. I don’t remember giving you orders out there a few minutes ago.”

  “Not like you had a choice,” he says as I attach the other cuff. “I was owning that hot, little twat.”

  I stand up and turn my back.

  “Where the hell are you going?”

  Unable to help myself, I say, “To find a gag.”

  He bursts into hysterics as I walk over and turn the light off. He doesn’t know it, but I am being serious. I really wish he would just stop talking. The sound of his voice, the words that drip sex—and not just sex, more like a mind-blowing, fuck fest—puts me off my game a bit. And right now, I have a point to prove. I will not be one upped in bed. Never have been; never will be.

  “Lights on, babe. I wanna see those tits up close and personal.”

  I turn on the very dim side lamp, then walk to the end of the bed where I crawl up between his open legs and cup his balls in my hand, giving them a tug.

  “You like them, don’t you?” he asks, spreading his legs wider. “Why don’t you give them a lick?”

  “My show,” I tell him, but damn if I don’t want to do just that.

  “Of course. My bad.”

  “You have the right to remain silent.” I smirk, leaning over and licking the head of his erection. “Anything you say can and will be used against you—”

  “I sure as fuck hope so,” he says, thrusting his hips up. “Let’s start with mouth and end with pussy, shall we?”

  “Don’t make me get out my baton,” I warn, wrapping my hand around his base and beginning to stroke him slowly up and down.

  “Don’t threaten me with a good time.” His eyes darken as his voice becomes huskier. “But do understand, a bad cop will get it back twice as hard. But a criminal like me—”

  “Not when the criminal is cuffed.” I stroke him a little faster.

  “I have people.” He thrusts forward. “Fuck, Keanna. Mouth. I need those lips around my cock, please.”

  My mouth is already in route, so I continue. I suck him hard and slowly, moving down his shaft until I can’t move any lower. I suck as I pump him.

  “That’s it, baby. Suck that cock. Suck it hard.” He grunts. “Take it deeper. Show me what you’ve got. Show me everything I have coming after fucking that sweet pussy so hard you’ll feel it tomorrow, and I’m not even done with you yet.”

  As my pussy clenches at his threat, I take him deeper and for
ce myself to swallow. I want his cock to remember my mouth as bad as he wants my pussy to remember his dick.

  “Fuck, don’t do that. I won’t last for shit,” he grits out through his teeth.

  I take it as a challenge.

  Faster, deeper, sucking harder, I take more than I thought I could handle and swallow while he is deep in my mouth, milking him.

  He twitches, and I taste pre-cum.

  He tries to pull back. “Gonna come. Where do you want it?”

  I untie my robe and let his heavy cock fall from my lips as I cup my breasts and lean forward, surrounding his dick with them.

  “Fuck!” he roars and pulls his good hand hard, breaking the cuff. “Those tits. Those fucking tits.” He reaches forward and pushes my hair out of the way to get a better view, thrusting his hips back and forth and fucking my tits as he watches.

  I feel the first burst of his cum hit underneath my chin, then a second.

  “Fuck, Keanna. Fuck yes!”

  When he is finished, he lies back and chuckles.

  “Hot as hell. Give me ten minutes and unlock this thing. I need both hands for what I have planned, and it’s my fucking turn.”

  I unlock the cuff and look at his hand. It’s scarred and obvious that he’s had surgery.

  “What happened?” I ask as I place it gently on his chest.

  He closes his eyes and smiles. “Karma came knocking, and I was home.”

  “I’m gonna go wash up.” When I stand up off my bed, his cum slides down my throat and between my breasts.

  He opens his eyes and shakes his head. “You should really let it dry. My cum looks good on you.”

  I shake my head and walk to the door.

  I hear him sigh then mutter, “Shit’s good. You should have swallowed.”

  I walk in the bathroom, and Tink comes in behind me. She sits and looks up.

  “Sorry, girl. What was I thinking?” I wipe my body down with baby wipes and toss them in the trash. Then I grab a pair of yoga pants and a sweatshirt. “Let me go and tell our guest I’ll be back after our W-A-L-K.”

  I walk back in my room to see him still naked, still sprawled out, and I am pretty sure he’s asleep.

  “Okay, let’s go. I don’t think he’ll even notice we are gone.”

  After walking Tink, I find he is still out like a light. I am exhausted, so I decide to hell with it and climb in next to him. I roll to my side, my back facing him, and close my eyes, beginning to drift off as I pet Tink, who is sitting next to the bed like she always does when I’m falling asleep.

  “Good girl.”

  I don’t know how much time later, I wake to a hellacious hangover and the man next to me sputtering in his sleep. I have no idea what he is saying, but I know it sure as hell isn’t a sexy dream. He’s angry, his body tense, and he mutters, “Don’t. No. Please,” before curling into a ball.

  “River,” I call to him when he continues sputtering.

  When he doesn’t wake, I reach over and shake him.

  “River,” I say a little more loudly.

  He gasps and sits straight up, causing me to jump.

  “Shit,” he exclaims when he catches his breath and looks over at me.

  “Bad dream?” I ask, trying to act like he didn’t just scare the hell out of me.

  “Nah.” He shakes his head. “My clothes?”

  “It’s late, just sleep.”

  “I plan on it, but I need a little aid in doing so.” He stands up and walks toward the door. “Keanna?”

  “Yes?” I ask, lying back down and covering my head with the pillow.

  “Best pussy ever.” He chuckles. “I’m coming back for it.”

  “Hit me up in the morning. I’m going back to sleep.”

  *****

  I wake to Tink whining and my head pounding. I throw my feet over the bed and groan, placing both hands on the side of my face.

  “Morning, Tink.” I stand up and look back at the bed.

  It’s empty.

  He’s gone.

  “Must have scared him off with the cuffs.” I sigh as I pet Tink. “Damn shame. He was worth a round two.”

  Tink cocks her head to the side as if she is concerned.

  “Don’t worry; your mom isn’t looking for another man to make her whole. She is whole.”

  “Answer your fucking text,” I say to my phone, seeing the battery on ten percent. I am seriously too fucking amped up right now to function.

  I see the cab coming from down the road and step off the curb, needing to make damn sure the driver sees me.

  Fucking Masterson, I think while in the back of the cab.

  I pay the cabby and step out of the car in front of my pad.

  He better be here.

  I walk in and flip on a light. No one’s crashed on the couch or passed out on the counter. Fuck, no one has been for a couple months now.

  With my accident and Finn being a fucking chicken shit and hiding in pussy at the fucking farm house he bought with said pussy, avoiding this place like the plague, this place is a fucking bore.

  I throw my phone onto the charging mat on the kitchen island and look around.

  My chest tightens as I make my way through the house. I check everyone’s rooms, but no one is around. Hell, Billy isn’t even here.

  I feel like I am going to explode. There is ringing in my ears, my chest feels tight, and I find it hard to catch my breath.

  I walk in my room and open drawers, looking for something to take away the pain, the emptiness, the fullness, the … feelings.

  I open a box stashed deep inside the bottom drawer and grab it.

  In case of emergency, break the glass. I wrote those words as an inside joke years ago.

  I sigh, the pressure in my chest getting harder to bear.

  I twist the rubber plunger top off the glass cylinder. The smell is overwhelming, and I inhale deeply. Stank dankness—I fucking love the smell. I also love that, years later, it hasn’t dried out completely.

  “I was right, Jesse. Preserved to perfection,” I say to … no one.

  I hold it under my nose and inhale, wishing I could find an air freshener that smelled just like this. A good, smoke-filled room brings a smile to my face. But this, this devil weed as we dubbed it back in that trailer where we first met, was the fucking bomb diggity. No better homegrown ever encountered than this shit.

  I pull out one of the two buds crammed inside with crystallized purple hairs, and it’s sticky as fuck, almost resin-like.

  *****

  “You can’t take that,” she says with an almost grin, which is very unlike the normal, somber expression I have grown accustomed to.

  I grab another bud from the candy dish on the makeshift pallet coffee table and shove them both in my pocket. “Tell me again what I can’t do.”

  Her lips purse together as she tries not to smile. “You’re gonna smell.”

  “Good. If I smell like pot and you when I go home, I’ll be happy.” I pull the blanket up that has fallen down to hide where my hands travel, pushing under her skirt and pulling her legs apart before planting a finger inside her.

  Her eyes roll back, and she exhales a deep, little moan as I move around inside her a little bit.

  “When?”

  “When, what?” I ask, rubbing her insides.

  “Do you go home?”

  “When she calls,” I answer as I drag her hand to the tent my pants are causing.

  “Your girlfriend?” she asks, squeezing me hard.

  “My mother,” I say through my teeth, and she loosens her grip.

  “You live with your mom?” she asks, almost grinning again.

  I want to tell her of course I do. I’m sixteen years old. But then I imagine she thinks I’m older. They all do. I sprung up six inches in a year, gained thirty pounds of muscle, and am fucking fearless.

  “You’re wet, Jess,” I tell her, trying to change the conversation. “No fucking mom talk. I want you to come on my hand.”
<
br />   “They’ll be back. We—”

  “Who is they?” I ask, shoving a second finger inside her and wrapping my hand around hers, stroking me faster. “No one but you, me, and the buzz.”

  The next day, we go into town with Tom-Tom and hit a head shop where I grab a glass cylinder and a bowl she’s been staring at—Chilz.

  *****

  I roll my neck, trying to release the tension that is lessening, but still … fucking Chilz is MIA, and I’m pissed.

  How did I forget Chilz? I don’t lose Chilz, not anymore, anyway.

  I walk out into the kitchen and grab my phone off the charging pad. No message from Masterson, fucker, so I hit him up again.

  Call Me.

  And … send.

  I set the devil bud on the counter and dig through the drawer for some papers. There are none, so I grab a can out of the recycling bin and rinse it out. Then I grab a knife from the butcher block and jab it in the side, making a carb. I dent the can on the top, pokes holes in the dented area, and then set about tearing up the bud.

  “What are you doing?”

  I look up when Billy walks in, still in last night’s clothes.

  “Getting ready to cheat on Chilz,” I answer, looking back down at the bud.

  “You were supposed to keep that shit in your room or outside,” he says with a scowl.

  “You need to lighten the fuck up.” I scowl back at him. “Or maybe you need to get laid.”

  “I’m all set, thanks.” He grabs a bottle of water from the fridge.

  “Oooo … Billy got laid.” I put the bud on the crushed part of the can, on top of the holes, and grab the lighter from my pocket.

  “River.” He shakes his head as I inhale a few times, then lift my thumb off the makeshift carb. I inhale deeply and hold it in. “You seriously need to find a new hobby.”

  I exhale and smile as the taste, smell, and immediate buzz wash over me. “Partake?”

  “I’m going to bed, man. It’s seven in the morning.” He shakes his head as he walks away.

  “Would mean a lot to me, man. This shit here is aged like fine wine.”

  He stops, but he doesn’t turn around.

  “It would mean a lot to me,” I mumble as I walk to my room where I sit on the bed and take another hit, this time longer, harder. When I release my thumb from the carb, I breathe in more deeply, leaning back against the headboard of my king–size, black bed and close my eyes.