by M. N. Forgy
“I love these little soaps,” River giggles, smelling a travel size bar of soap on the counter next to the sink. She looks fucking adorable with her hair a mess and smelling that little soap.
Huey climbs out of River’s bag and starts to inspect the room, or hobbling more like it with his cast still on. His little tail wagging away. He is pretty fucking cool.
Jerking my shirt over my head, and dropping my jeans, I slide along the crisp blankets. A smile so big on my face I can’t even feel the cut in my arm anymore.
“Get your little hippie ass over here.” I pat the bed. River steps out of the bathroom, a hand on her hip as she stares me down with hungry eyes.
Using my fingertip, I press it into the bed. “Now!” I’ve dreamed about having River in a place like this all to myself. Just her and I, and a bed. Playing fucking house.
Rolling her eyes, she tries to be defiant, but I know she wants to get in bed with me. She pulls the straps of her dress off her arms, her perky tits in full view along with the rest of her body. She’s thin, but not in a built way. More of a natural beauty.
“No panties, again?” I can’t help but stare at her bare pussy. If I weren’t so fucking tired, I’d finger fuck her until the front desk got multiple complaints of someone dying in the room next to them.
She shrugs at me. “I’m more of comfort than speed kinda girl.”
“Ah, I’ve been fucked by you. You’re built for speed baby.”
She laughs, picking up Huey before climbing onto the bed. I grab her by her waist and pull her ass into the crook of my body, squeezing her into me. The smell of her reminds me of that candle store in the mall. I close my eyes and inhale her scent as long as my lungs can handle before demanding fresh air.
“You think they’ll miss us?” she asks quietly as Huey lays at the foot of the bed.
“My dad won’t. I was just a reminder that he never made it, a dead woman’s son left behind.” Sighing, I try to cool my heated tone. “I don’t know about your parents though,” I mutter with my eyes closed. The look of wrinkled anger and furrowed brows on my dad’s face when I hit him flash behind my eyes. The color of his eyes are always one of rage, he hates me and if he ever did get through my bedroom door, he’d probably be glad I was gone. He wouldn’t have to face resentment every day.
Minutes pass, and she lays in my arms. The room silent and filling with our scent.
“Maybe they’ll miss me if I’m gone. To lose something and realize it’s really gone, you know?” she looks at me, green eyes bloodshot with loss of sleep. Her chest rises as she lets out a small breath. “Or maybe I’ll be forgotten like my grandma. All my thinks packed up and given away.”
Tugging the sheets over us, I nuzzle so close to her our hearts beat the same rhythm. Our skin sticking to one another and breathing in sync.
“You’re too good for them, River,” I tell her right before falling asleep.
14
River
“We are good parents, we don’t deserve this! That Warner did something to River!”
– Mrs. Addington
My phone ringing has me stirring awake. Laying on Warner’s bare chest, my mouth is wide open with drool pooling on his tight pec. Shit. Sitting up I use the sheet to soak it up before he notices. I wish I was a pretty sleeper, but I’m not.
My phone alerts me of a text, reminding me why I’m even up. Blinking the blurriness fogging my view I climb out of bed and throw shit out of my bag until I find my phone at the very bottom.
Ten missed called from my parents, and so many texts.
Where are you?
Is this about boarding school?
You better get home right now!
If you don’t call us back in ten minutes, we are calling the cops!
Please text us back, we’re worried.
River Addington, this is not funny.
River….
“Parents discover their princess is gone?” Warner asks with a sleepy voice.
“Yeah, they’re freaking out,” I mumble, a little nervous that they did call the cops. I can’t go back though. I’m doing this. I’m more mature than they are half the time. Everything we ever did was for them, this is about me finally.
Dropping my phone, I crawl back in bed with Warner. One eye open, he grabs his jeans off the floor and looks at his phone.
He scoffs. “Not one message or missed call from my dad.” He shakes his head and tosses his phone on the floor. “But Axel wrote me twice, and tried calling.”
I lick my lips, snuggling up next to him. “What did he say?”
Warner exhales, looking at his phone.
Hey man, call me.
You can’t let some bitch come between us.
Fuck you then.
I look down, I feel terrible coming between a friendship. I don’t want to be that girl.
“Fuck him, he’s a prick and thinks he can do whatever he wants to anyone because he plays ball.” Warner shakes his head.
“I’m sorry your dad hasn’t called. Maybe he doesn’t know you’re not coming back. Like, he thinks you’re out with your buddies or something?” I try to buffer the situation. Truth is, his dad is a dick and probably doesn’t care.
“Yeah, maybe.” Warner’s tone dry as he stares straight up at the ceiling. Running my hand down his torso, he sucks in a tight breath and glances down at me.
“I know what will take your mind off things.” I raise my brows as my fingers come into contact with a long, thick shaft. His eyes light up, and then I have an idea pop in my head. A crazy, sexy, artistic idea.
“Be right back.” I jump off the bed and unzip my bag, grabbing some tubes of paint. Excitedly, I hop back on the bed and straddle his lap, the tip of his dick hitting me in the back.
“Whoa, what are you doing.” Hair waves in my face as my eyes meet his.
“You’ll see.” I smile.
Unscrewing the white paint, I squeeze some onto his chest. His eyes widen, but he doesn’t stop me. Using two of my fingers, I slide the silky pigment back and forth making his chest a white canvas.
He rests his head on his arms and watches me intently. Unscrewing tube after tube, I get lost in what I’m creating and bite my lip in concentration. Occasionally looking up at my inspiration.
My hips rock back and forth, my warm pussy grinding on his apex as I color. My breathing picks up as my clit swells from the friction. I’m covered in paint, he’s covered in paint and it’s the sexiest thing I’ve seen.
Dabbing some black color up toward the top of his chest, it causes my nipples to sweep across his hard chest, they bud and ache for him to touch them.
“I’ve never been as much of a fan of art as I am today,” he groans, thrusting his hips upward. He fists my tit, his jaw tightening as my body moves with his. His dick slides in and out of my ass cheeks and my clit rubs on his pelvic bone perfectly.
I moan and sweep my fingers across his chest. My body winds up with artistic desire and combusts with passion for Warner.
“What are you coloring?” he breathes heavily, his hard grasp on my left tit near bruising. I ignore him, running my fingers back and forth across his warm skin.
His nails dig into my hips keeping me in place and I still, my eyes in a blurred daze, and I’m out of breath.
“If we keep going, I’m going to blow my load all over your ass, and I want that pussy.” He groans. Reaching around me, he rubs his cock. Trying to calm it down. Nodding, out of breath, I exhale a calming breath and look over my work displayed on his chest. A white background outlines his pecs and abs, as an oval of his eye, and thick black lashes darken the center. The colors of his irises are so blue it makes the oceans in the world look dull in comparison.
Leaning up on his elbows he looks down at his chest, our dry humping keeping him occupied he didn’t even notice what I was coloring.
“An eye?” he asks with confusion. It was something our art teacher Suzy was teaching us in school before I left.
&nbs
p; “In some cultures, they wear a third eye which provides perception beyond ordinary sight. When I see you, I see more than just a broken football player. You take me to a realm of ecstasy and freedom. With you, I feel… like I’m out of my body looking down at us, rooting us along our journey. He stiffens underneath me, causing my sticky fingers to freeze on his hard chest. Furrowing my brows, I ask myself why I drew that of all things? My eyes flick to Warner’s, maybe Warner has more of a pull on me than I thought he did. His eyes are my kryptonite.
Sitting up, he wraps his arms around me, the paint on his chest smearing across my tits.
“God your mind is beautiful,” he whispers.
Holding my hand up so I don’t get any more paint on us, I kiss him, and he kisses me back harder. Breathing through my nose, he turns us, throwing my back onto the bed and his torso between my legs. Bending to the side of the bed, he pulls his jeans up off the bed and tugs a condom free. I wiggle underneath him in anticipation. Hovering back over me, he fists his cock, the tip bouncing and pulsing. Leaning over me, one hand above my shoulder into the mattress he presses the tip of himself inside my wetness. My body bucks, and my back arches. He fills me, and I let out a deep sigh as we become one. He begins to thrust, our bodies sliding against each other, the paint on our skin mixing and swirling into a canvas of passion.
My toes curl, and I flick my tongue against his salty neck. My mouth filling with the taste of musk and sex.
Pressure builds through my clit and spreads deep inside of me. Here it comes, the part that makes me feel like I’m falling and running at the same time. Out of breath, but inhaling too much. Running my nails up his strong back, he swirls his hips hitting everything just right, the sheets slip off the bed as he digs his feet into the mattress for friction. His cock goes so deep I can’t help but arch my chest into him when I combust into a million pieces. Seconds later, he lifts his chin back and groans into the air.
Pushing my face into his chest, paint swipes across my forehead, I explode with ecstasy.
We still, hot and panting. Our eyes locked on one another. He rolls over, and we stare up at the ceiling trying to catch our breath.
That was amazing and beautiful. It was so sensual. Sitting up I’m covered in paint, the sheets are smeared in a charcoal color, and Warner’s chest looks like a piece of abstract art.
“You can paint me anytime,” he laughs.
I slap him hitting his hurt arm where his dad cut him, he winces, and I sit up in panic.
“Shit, sorry!” There’s a little paint around the sides, but it looks to be healing up better than I expected with super glue.
“Sore, but better,” he rasps. Sitting up on the bed, I look over my body now covered in paint. I’ve never done anything like that before. But fuck it was beautiful and sexy. It was like something you’d see in a movie.
Huey barks from the floor catching my attention. He probably needs to potty. Guess I’ll clean up and take care of that.
“I’m going to take him out,” I inform, rolling out of bed reluctantly.
15
Warner
Three Days Later
Missouri
“You know, I thought those kids were trouble when they arrived. They even dissed my five star accommodations!” - Paradise Motel Owner
“I’m getting tired.” River yawns, stretching in the seat beside me. We’ve been driving all day, it’s all we’ve been doing is driving, sleeping, and then driving some more. We still have no destination at this point, the plan is just to get far enough away from our parents as we can get.
“Yeah, let’s pull over and get some sleep,” I agree.
I take the next exit and we both try and scope out a nearby hotel. There’s a couple closed fast food joints, and it looks like one hotel at the end of the street. It’s dodgy as shit in this area, and the hotel doesn’t look like anything I want to take River to.
“Maybe we should try the next exit…” I suggest.
“It said there wasn’t another rest stop for miles,” River mutters, looking at the same motel I am.
“It’s fine, we’ll just get a couple hours of sleep and get out of there.” She shakes her head, throwing her sketchpad into her duffel bag. She’s exhausted, we both are. Who knew just driving would take it out of you.
Turning the wheel, I do as she says and drive to the dilapidated hotel.
Upon getting closer, the sign doesn’t even have a name on it. It just has a ring of lights outlining a diamond-shaped sign. It reads Paradise Motel. Ha, more like Bates Motel. There looks to be maybe seven rooms with all the doors scratched like a lion tried to get into each one. Parking in the cracked parking lot covered in potholes, we both get out. River puts Huey in her bag and I tuck her close to my side, not liking the looks of this place at all. On our way to the front office, we pass a pool that is full of grass and weeds - it looks like a swamp.
Once inside, the smell of cigarettes is so strong it takes my breath away. There’s an old man in overalls and no shirt behind the counter playing cards. It’s muggy in here with no air conditioning. Walking across the lobby, my feet stick to the floor as if they pulled the flooring up and said fuck the leftover glue that’s stuck to the concrete.
“Do you have a room?” River asks in a cute voice. That innocent charm slipping into place.
The man doesn’t look up, her cuteness lost on him.
“One room. One hundred dollars,” the man says with a raspy voice.
River shuffles in her bag and gives the man the money. He glances at her hand, then through his smudged glasses.
Taking the money, he shoves it in his pocket and grabs something under the counter.
“Enjoy your stay, pretty flower,” he chuckles, his teeth stained yellow and making me grimace.
My shoulders lift not liking the way he’s looking my woman over. River just stands there as if she’s frozen, little hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. Sidestepping her, I notice what has her in a daze.
The guy is holding a key attached to a rotten rabbit foot. It’s an off-white color and I’m pretty sure that’s bone on the end. Some people collect them for good luck, but this one looks like this man just hacked it off a rabbit and put it on there yesterday.
I snatch it from him, so River doesn’t have to touch it.
“Thanks.” My tone as dry as the decaying rabbit foot. Wrapping my arm around River, I take her out of the lobby and to our room, which is three doors down.
“Ooooh my God,” River draws out under breath. “Is that a real foot?” she asks softly. I just shake my head, not wanting her to look at it. Quickly I open our door, shut it and lock it behind us. We should have taken our chances at the next exit. This place is a fucking horror movie waiting to happen.
River places her bag down on the ground and Huey climbs out slowly. Even he isn’t sure about this place.
The floor is cheap black and white tile, and there’s a queen bed with ugly orange blankets on it. My sight swings over to the dresser that has red tape holding up the sides, and a TV that has a really large back on it. It’s not a flat screen, it’s like something from our parents’ youth. I doubt it even works.
“I gotta pee,” River states, heading to the bathroom on the other side of the room. Huey looks up at me and whines.
“I know bud, it’s just for tonight.” I pat his head.
“Oh my God, Warner!” River screams. My biceps flex into protection mode and I race into the bathroom to see what’s going on.
River is in the doorway pointing toward the rusty tub, a dead rat floating in dirty water.
“I’m pretty sure it’s dead.” She holds her nose. I gag.
“Fuck that smells.” I wrinkle my nose while grabbing the bloated rodent by the tail, it’s stiff and been in there for a while from the looks of it. I hurry to the front door and throw it into the parking lot. Stupid fuckers, this is beyond gross.
“All I smell is rat now.” River shakes her head, stepping out of the ba
throom.
“We’re going to have to drain the bath,” I reluctantly inform. If we don’t, it’s all we’re going to smell.
She looks over her shoulder into the bathroom with a frown. I hate that she has to stay in this place. Maybe we should just sleep in my truck.
“I’ll get it. You got the rat,” River volunteers.
“Don’t you dare touch that water!” I shout at her, making her jump where she stands. Rushing past her, I reach my hand into the nasty cold water, little rat hairs floating around my arm, and pull the drain. The water is so close to my mouth I have to keep my gag reflex in check or I swear I’m going to puke. Jerking my hand out of the water, it drips all over the stained floor.
“Where are your cute fucking soaps?” I ask out of breath, praying she stole the ones from the nice hotels we’ve been staying at. River darts out of the room, and I watch the water gurgle and swirl as it goes down, I cough.
“Here, here they are!” River quickly unwraps one of the white oval soaps from the hotel we went to the other day and I lather the shit out of my arms and fingers. I used to think her obsession with these soaps were stupid, now I say we collect as many as possible. You never know when you might need them.
“I gotta pee.” She pushes past me and pulls her dress up to her neck, and squats above the toilet, trying not to touch it as she pees. She wobbles and grabs onto my jeans to keep from falling into the tub.
“I’m not touching this toilet. It’s yellow and something tells me it didn’t come out of the factory like that.”
“You could embrace your hippie side and piss outside.” Angry eyes look up at me and I can’t help but laugh, watching her wipe, with actual clean toilet paper, and head into the main area.
Drying my hands off on my jeans, I glance at the bed, curious what awaits us under the sheets. River peels the cover back and jumps back as if she’s waiting for a snake to strike at her.
“The sheets look clean.” She examines them closely. Stepping up behind her, she’s right. They look okay.
