His Slut

I toss and turn until I finally stop. With my hand on my stomach, I stare at the ceiling, letting out a long breath. Cortney dropped me home thirty minutes ago, and River hasn’t shown up yet.

Maybe it is for the best.

I sigh, running my hand through my hair.

What exactly am I doing? I know he will never love me. I know he will never give me a chance. So why am I still waiting?

The knock on my door startles me. I sit up and quickly throw my hair in a low ponytail the way I normally do.

“Come in.” I reach for my glasses and put them on.

My elder sister opens the door and stands in the doorway. “Coming down for dinner? Mom made chicken.” I am not in the mood to eat, and she can see it written all over my face. “You like chicken.” She sighs and enters, closing the door behind her. “Okay, what is wrong? You know you can talk to me.”

She sits down on the bed, and I pull my legs closer together. I search her eyes. I can’t tell her a boy is bothering me. I can’t open up to her because I know my sister all too well and what she will say.

You are a beautiful girl. His loss if he won’t claim you.

You are brilliant. Someone out there will be lucky to have you.

When you go to college, things will change. You will meet new people. People who will fight for your attention.

I want to hear those words so badly. But she doesn’t know what it feels like to be in the arms of River Dawson. She doesn’t know how much of a lost cause I have become because of love.

“I am… just tired. That‘s all,” I lie.

“Really? That‘s all?” She tilts her head.

I nod immediately. “Just school stuff. I will be fine.”

She studies me for a while before she stands up and smooths her skirt. “Okay. Just—just let me know if you need anything, or if you just want to talk. I know you might not want to tell Mom, but you can tell me. I will understand. And if it is boys, I understand boys. I was quite the catch in high school.”

She isn’t lying. She was one of the cheerleaders and boys were always in her presence. She always had date nights every Wednesday and Friday with different boys, like they were auditioning to have her as their girl. But she wouldn't understand how I feel.

“I am fine, Mave.”

“Okay.” She walks to the door, then turns back to me. “So, no dinner?”

“I am not hungry.”

She nods slowly, then quietly closes the door behind her.

The room falls silent again. I sigh and check the clock. 9:50 p.m.

River isn’t coming. Maybe that’s for the best.

I swing my legs off the bed and stand, suddenly restless. If he isn’t coming, then tonight is over. I shouldn’t wait anymore. I should just take off my clothes, take a shower, and pretend I never told him to meet me here.

I pull my shirt over my head when something taps against the window.

I freeze.

A second later…

Tap.

My heart jumps.

Curiously, I walk slowly toward the window and pull the curtain aside.

River Dawson is standing outside.

My stomach flips, and for a moment, my face lights up before I can stop it. I quickly wipe the expression away. Of course he came. He is always active when he wants something. How could I have forgotten that?

He has changed from his hockey clothes into a casual sweatshirt and matching pants. I push the window open.

“What the heck, Chan? I’ve been texting you for the past thirty minutes,” he whispers loudly.

“What?” I whisper back.

“Check your phone.” He realizes he said it too loudly and immediately covers his mouth, glancing around the dark yard.

I disappear from the window and grab my phone from the bed. Right. I turned it off earlier.

When the screen lights up, my stomach flips again. Seven missed calls. Multiple messages. All from River. I walk back to the window and hold the phone up.

“I turned it off,” I whisper. “I was with Cort.”

River exhales and runs a hand through his hair, clearly annoyed. After a moment, he brushes it off and points at himself… then at my window.

My eyes widen. “You want to climb up here?”

River lifts an eyebrow. “Would you rather I walk through your front door, and your family sees me?”

My heart starts beating faster. Because he’s right. And because this is insane. They don’t know I am seeing a boy. I have never brought a boy home before.

River looks at the wall like he’s already regretting every decision that led him here. Then he mutters, “Move.”

I step back as I watch him quietly climb up, using the pipe like a ladder. He grabs the edge of the window and pulls himself up. His shoe slips once, and I instinctively reach out, grabbing his hand to balance him.

Finally, he swings one leg over the window and drops into my room. River straightens, brushing his hands together. Then he looks at me. “We’re never doing this here again,” he says quietly. “I’ll text you the locations from now on.”

I nod, automatic, obedient, and turn to set my phone on the bed. Before I can take another step, his hand wraps around my shoulder, possessive. My stomach clenches. He towers over me like something wild and untamed, standing at 6’3” while I am 5’7”

“I want to take a quick shower first,” I whisper.

Instead of releasing me, he turns me slowly to face him. His eyes search mine as he lifts my glasses off, folds them carefully, sets them on the nightstand. Then his fingers slide into my hair, loosening the ponytail until it spills over my shoulders.

“That’s much better.” His voice is low. “Door locked?”

I slip away just long enough to twist the lock, heart beating fast. When I turn back, I peel off my clothes under his watchful gaze. My shirt, bra, shorts, panties, until I’m naked. A faint smirk tugs at his mouth, amusement flickering in his eyes as he takes me in.

I step closer. The heat rolling off him makes my skin prickle.

“How do you like your cock sucked?” I ask, voice small but trying to sound bold.

He throws his head back and laughs. My brows furrow. Then his gaze drops to mine again. “You’re cute. But not tonight, Chan.”

“But—”

“Another time.”

Before I can respond, he scoops me up like I am his newlywed bride, arms under my knees and back, and carries me to the bed. He slowly lowers me onto the mattress.

His hand slides to the nape of my neck, fingers working into my hair, and he pulls me into a deep, claiming kiss.

I close my eyes and melt into it, arms curling around his neck. A moan escapes me when his mouth leaves mine and closes over one nipple. The wet suction sends a jolt straight between my legs. His hand drifts lower, fingers finding my clit and rubbing slowly. The pleasure becomes tight. More moans spill out before I can stop them.

I bite my lip hard, trying to stay quiet. My family is downstairs eating dinner. If they hear—if anyone hears—they’ll kill me.

He switches to the other breast, sucking harder while his fingers keep working me. Then he pulls away entirely. I watch, breathless, as he strips his hoodie, shirt, sweatpants, boxers, until he stands naked, cock thick and heavy, already hard.

I can’t look away. He smirks at my stare, reaches into his pocket for a condom, tears the packet with his teeth, and rolls it on.

He parts my thighs roughly, spreading me wide. “You ready to be my slut?”

I nod—jerky, desperate.

His hand wraps around my throat, not crushing, but firm enough to make my pulse thunder under his palm. Before I can draw a full breath, he pushes inside in one deep thrust. A high, startled squeak leaves me. He starts rocking, slow at first, then harder, faster, filling me completely.

My soul feels like it leaves my body with every stroke. Then he spanks my ass hard. I whimper.

He fucks me harder. Deeper. “Fuck you…” I gasp, the words slipping out in defiance.

A slow, wicked smile curves his lips. “How dare you?” he murmurs, almost playful, then slaps my cheek. It is light but shocking, heat blooming across my skin.

“Fuck you…” I groan again, veins pulsing in my neck and face as he drives into me relentlessly. I want to shove him away, to make him stop, but I can’t. He hasn’t cum yet. And part of me doesn’t want him to.

He pulls out suddenly. I whine at the emptiness. He flips me over in one smooth motion, presses my chest to the mattress, arches my back into a perfect curve, spreads my legs wide, and grips the back of my neck from behind, holding me down, owning the angle.

He slides back in. Deep. The new position hits different, harder, fuller. I groan into the pillow. He rocks into me with punishing rhythm, hand tightening just enough to remind me who’s in control.

“That’s it,” he growls. “That’s my slut. Fuck—good girl.”

The praise hits like a drug. I start to yell; his hand clamps over my mouth, muffling the sound. “Faster,” I mumble against his palm, desperate. “Faster—faster—”

He obeys. Thrusts turn brutal, hips snapping, bedframe knocking softly against the wall. My body tightens, coils, then shatters. Orgasm ripping through me in silent, shaking waves.

He keeps going for a few more punishing strokes, then yanks out with a low groan. I collapse forward, folding into myself, legs trembling, chest beating fast.

“You okay?” His voice is rough, breathing heavy.

“Hmm-mm,” I manage.

I want more than ‘You okay?’ from him. I want him to come close to me and pull me into his arms, but I already know I won’t be getting that.

Sure enough, he’s already moving—grabbing his clothes, pulling them on quickly. I stay curled on my side, watching him through my lashes.

He turns back once, leans down, and presses a soft kiss to my forehead. “Good job today. You’re improving.” I receive one last spank.

The words sting more than the spank. I want to beg him to wait. To stay. But I swallow it down. I have to be the cool girl. The one who doesn’t break the rules.

“See you when I text the next location.”

He slips out the window

I stay folded on the bed. The house is quiet. And before I know it, I begin to cry.