Follow the River (River of Rain Book 1) Page 16
Pulling out my phone, I connect it to the bluetooth speaker. The sounds of Palisades' “Hard Feelings” fill the bathroom.
Fucking ironic.
After testing the water’s temperature, I step through the opening and under the spray, the glass door closing behind me.
I allow the water to cascade over my body, wetting my hair and skin before grabbing some body wash from the small alcove in the stone wall. Just as I’m lathering some suds in my hands, I hear the sound of the glass door banging closed.
Before I know what is happening, Rain’s hands are forcing my chest and stomach against the stone wall, using his whole body weight to keep me there. My vision blurs and I realize it’s because his initial push caused me to hit my head on a rock jutting out from the wall. The rough material scrapes against my skin where it makes contact, and I can already feel blood trickling down from my busted brow.
I don’t have long to formulate a thought, let alone a plan on how to escape him, when his hands grip my ass cheeks and spread them wide, his chest pressing me harder against the wall.
And even though I know it’s coming, nothing could prepare me for the moment he slams his cock into me, hard and fast.
I suck in a ragged breath through clenched teeth, exhaling on a hiss.
The first thing I feel is discomfort, followed by a thousand knives cutting me open as he buries himself inside my tight hole. It’s a sensation I’m not used to when it comes to getting fucked. Since it’s generally a common fucking courtesy to prep your fucking partner before you slam your cock into their ass.
You know, instead of going in as dry as the Sahara fucking Desert.
Contrary to popular belief, water does not substitute as lubricant.
My intuition tells me Rain knows that.
He wraps an arm around my body and grips the front of my throat, his forearm resting flush against my chest between the valley of my pecs. His grasp is just strong enough that he constricts my airway, but it’s not to the point where I can’t breathe.
Not that it matters, I’m still completely breathless from the shock and pain of his cock filling me.
My lungs are desperate for air when he starts moving inside me, sliding in impossibly deeper until he is fully seated with his hips flush against my cheeks. The friction is causing my ass to throb with each of his movements, the ache only getting worse. He might as well be ripping me in two.
“Lube,” I choke, my voice strained from his grip on my throat and the pain coursing through me.
“Fuck you,” he growls in my ear, thrusting into me once, twice more.
If it weren’t for the agony I’m currently in, my first retort would have been you already are. But instead, a cry escapes my lips and I breathe out anguished please.
He pulls his cock from inside me, his fingers still wrapped around my throat as he reaches for the bottle of body wash in my peripheral. At this point, his hand on me is the only thing keeping me upright. My knees shake as torment and rage wracks my body with a vengeance.
A few moments later, when he’s nice and soaped up, I feel his crown back at my crease. He nudges the head past my rim and I wince, the intrusion agonizing from him entering without lubricant the first time. Adding the soap only causes more of a burn, and I bite my lip hard as he slides in smoothly this time, stilling once he’s completely inside me.
God, he’s fucking huge.
Obviously I know he is. I had him in my mouth and down my throat only a few weeks ago.
But I’ve never been fucked like this with a cock built to split me in half.
“Hands on the wall. Brace yourself.” His words come out as a barked command and immediately I obey, thankful it gives me a moment to adjust to the sting and his presence this time before he starts moving again.
My ass feels like it’s on fire as his length works the soap into the fissures and cracks I’m sure are now present inside me. Even my first time bottoming didn’t hurt nearly this bad.
I grit my teeth and adjust my stance, spreading my legs a little wider in hopes of easing some of the discomfort. Rain takes full advantage of this and with his other hand, grabs onto my hip, using it and the leverage from his grip on my neck to impale me on his cock. His thrusts are long, hard, and deliciously slow, reaching deeper than I’ve ever experienced before.
After a minute or two, the pain gives way to pleasure and I start moving with him, pressing back into him with each thrust. Soon our bodies are slick with the mixture of water and sweat. Lust ignites in my veins and my cock feels impossibly hard between my legs.
He feels so damn good.
I fucking hate it.
I should be fighting him off, pushing back, trying to gain some goddamn control in this encounter. But fuck, submitting to him in this moment, letting him have his way with me, is only making me hotter.
Rain groans and starts fucking me harder and faster, squeezing my throat so tight I start to see stars, only to loosen his grip right when I think I might pass out.
His hot mouth licks at the muscles of my neck and shoulder before he bites down on my trapezius. Hard. He pierces the skin and I gasp when I feel him lick up the mixture of water and blood pooling on my shoulder.
Another moan blended with pleasure and pain escapes me.
“I knew you’d like it rough,” Rain grunts as he pistons his hips in quick, fluid motions, railing into me without abandon.
Fucking Christ, he feels good.
The burning pain of his initial thrust is long gone, replaced by toe-curling bliss with each and every pass his cock takes over my prostate.
My own dick aches between my legs, so stiff it might explode. I whimper, needing more contact. It’s begging for his attention, for relief.
Knowing he won’t give me what I need, I remove one of my hands from the wall to stroke myself, but Rain slams into me harder when he notices, forcing my palm back to the wall to keep my balance. It’s either that or end up with my face pressed against the rough stones once again.
Rain leans forward, his hot breath wafting over my neck and ear as he grips my throat tighter. “Is it everything you thought it would be, Riv? Me fucking your ass from behind, hard and fast?” His taunts only serve to turn me on more.
Fuck, I need him to touch me, jack me, something.
“Yes,” I pant, pushing my hips back to meet him thrust for thrust, desperate for more.
“Good to hear. Because make no fucking mistake about it. The fact that I don’t have to look at your face as I pound you into the wall is the best fucking part of playing out your little fantasy.”
His words are like a bucket of ice water being thrown on me. My desire and building orgasm quickly dissipate from a raging fire into nothing more than a dull twinge.
This asshole. Using my own words against me.
He must know I’m about to come back with a snappy retort, because he practically crushes my windpipe in his palm, effectively shutting me up before I even have the chance to speak.
His hips moving in sporadic, uneven movements, I can tell he’s close to climax. I’m prepared to let him ride it out, using me as the human fucktoy he clearly views me as when he pulls out suddenly, taking advantage of his already tight grip on my throat to turn me around and force me to my knees.
My bones crack against the uneven stone floor and I wince. Before I have time to think, to breathe, or to protest, Rain yanks open my mouth with one hand, the other gripping my drenched hair, and shoves his cock in my mouth with brutal force. My gag reflex kicks in when the tip hits the back of my throat. I know he loves the sensation of my throat working his cock, but screw him. I’m not about to give him the satisfaction.
His hands cup the base of my skull and he starts fucking my face, his cock sliding in and out my throat. I feel him throb against my tongue right before hot spurts of cum slide effortlessly down my esophagus.
I swallow every drop, even though I don’t have any choice in the matter, hating myself for letting this happen.
How did we end up here?
Never in my fucking life would I have imagined the guy I met that first day of practice would be this sadistic and pure fucking evil. I never asked for an enemy just like I never wanted to start this game, this battle of wills, with him.
And all this because I’m bisexual?
Rain pulls from my mouth and immediately turns away from me, not sparing me a backwards glance as he begins washing his softening cock with soap on the other side of the shower.
I look away from him, glancing down to the floor in disgust, noticing the pink tinge to the water on the floor.
Shit, I’m still bleeding.
From where, I have no clue.
I run a hand across my forehead and shoulder, my fingers coming away bright red.
Fuming, I shift my position from my knees to my ass. The pain ravaging my entire body at the movement causes me to grimace.
Fuck. I don’t think a single fucking piece of me went untouched by him.
I still feel him everywhere and instantly know it was his goal.
“I hate you,” I murmur dejectedly, and I don’t know if it’s the harsh truth or the greatest lie I’ve ever spoken.
“Maybe. But that doesn’t mean you wouldn’t let me fuck your tight ass every day of the week and twice on Sundays if I wanted it.” He doesn’t look at me when he says it, just rinses his cock and abs before shutting off the water.
Shit.
It’s like he sees straight into my mind and is able to pick out the most fucked up thoughts, dying to bring them to light in hopes that airing them out will force me to bask in my shame.
Except I have no reason to feel shameful.
I’m openly bisexual. I love fucking both men and women. And yes, I do love receiving a nice dicking too. For fuck’s sake, men have a prostate for a reason, so anyone unwilling to use it is wasting a gift from God himself.
But this?
Fuck, this went beyond a sexual experience about mutual pleasure.
This was vile, sadistic, and just… degrading.
Never in my life have I been treated less than human.
Until today.
And so knowing I would still let him fuck me again if he asked? That is downright heinous.
But I can’t help the way my body wants him, even when my mind and soul fracture every time we interact, whether it be from his vicious words or the wicked way he uses his body against me.
What just occurred in this shower with him was the best sexual experience of my life. Until it wasn’t.
I’ve never felt so euphoric. Until I didn’t.
I hear Rain open the shower door to climb out, letting it close with a bang behind him. He won’t fucking look at me, and out of this entire torturous encounter, that’s what pisses me off the most.
The fact that I don’t have to look at your face as I pound you into the wall is the best fucking part of playing out your little fantasy.
My body quakes with fury, resentment, and fire. The need for vengeance is crawling up my spine and I have no desire to stop it.
I study him closely as he wraps a towel around his waist with an expression of indifference on his face before pulling open the bathroom door. I let the words slide off my tongue in a low, menacing threat, only loud enough so I know he won’t miss a word.
“Make no fucking mistake about it, Rain. I will make you regret this until your dying day. I don’t know when and I don’t know how. Mark my words, it will happen. And this pain is going to be worth it when I finally bring you to your fucking knees.”
He doesn’t turn around. Doesn’t respond.
I knew he wouldn’t. Not when he won this battle.
But he’s been warned.
This war has only just begun.
I wait until I hear the click of the door latching shut before I curl into myself and sob.
Cold, mangled, and defeated.
With my back to the door of my bedroom, I sink to the ground and place my head in my hands.
What the fuck have I done?
Three days.
Three goddamn days and I can still feel the aftermaths of Rain’s brutal onslaught on both my body and mind.
I don’t know if I’m more damaged physically or emotionally at this point.
And the worst part?
I fucking can’t stop thinking about him.
Even sitting here on the couch, Fahrenheit 451 in my hand, I find my mind drifting to thoughts of him.
What is he thinking? Is he regretting what he did to me?
After he left me in the shower, he went to his bedroom and didn’t leave it for over a day. At least that I could tell. It’s as if he waited until he knew I was out hiking or sleeping or something before getting food or using the bathroom.
I haven’t actually seen him in those three days, only glimpses of his shadowed figure moving in the hallway.
At this point, I can only be grateful for that. Ignoring each other, while it never lasts long, is preferred to constantly being in each other’s faces, ready to throw down at any second.
I was already sick of constantly living on my toes, always having my guard up any time we are in the same room. I have a feeling it will only be worse now, after what happened in the shower.
The. Fucking. Shower.
His cruelty has known no bounds since he found out my sexuality all those months ago. I’ve become used to it, almost numb in a way. He isn’t the first person to hate or dislike or shun me because I’m into both sexes. At a certain point, you grow thick skin and it all just slides off your back, making you stronger.
That’s what it’s been like with him. Hurled insults and punches, nothing but sticks and stones and words that try to hurt me. And in all that time, they never succeeded.
But what happened in the shower? It went beyond torment.
The word rape plays around in the back of my mind, but deep down I know I could have stopped it if I wanted.
But I didn’t want to stop. I wanted it. Him.
Ciaráin Grady is many things I've come to learn in these months of knowing him.
Cruel. Antagonizing. Intoxicating. Yes, absolutely.
But a rapist? No, I refuse to believe that.
Still, that doesn’t stop me from hating myself for the conflicted emotions running through me every time I see, hear, think, touch, smell him.
Because there is one thing he will always be.
My enemy.
Rain is the first one to break our stalemate. If I can pride myself about anything when it comes to him, it’s that I’m never the one to give into the silence surrounding us due to his malice.
I’m maybe thirty pages from the end of my book when he comes down the hall, looking, dare I say…chipper?
Okay, that’s not true. Just less broody than usual.
His hair is slightly damp from a shower and he's wearing a black hoodie and jeans, holding his backpack in his hand. I watch as he slides his shoes on and shrugs into a jacket, all while avoiding making eye contact with me.
Turning my attention back to my book, I hear the familiar sound of the fridge opening and water being poured into a glass.
It’s not for a couple more minutes until he speaks.
“I’m heading down into town on the ATV, I need to grab some stuff from the store. Do you need anything?”
Glancing up at him over the back of the couch, I make eye contact with him for the first time in three damn days. His golden eyes don’t give much away, they usually don’t when his armor is on, but I think they seem to be slightly softer when he looks at me today.
I can only hope that’s a symptom of guilt.
“I don’t think so, but thanks,” I reply
At least he’s being civil...
But then something crosses my mind.
The door opens behind me and I call out, rolling over the back of the couch before Rain steps outside. “Hey, actually, can I go with you?”
&nbs
p; He pauses in the threshold and faces me. “I guess, but you’re riding bitch.”
Rolling my eyes, I grab my shoes, sliding them on and toss on a jacket before following him out to the shed which houses our only means of transportation.
He starts the engine up with ease, pulling it free from the shed, which I close behind him. My eyes move to the small seat behind where he’s sitting. Where I’m supposed to sit.
“Well are you coming or not?” he snaps.
Biting my lip, I step onto the footholds and swing my leg over the seat. I do my best to keep distance between us, my fingers gripping the rack on the back, but as we begin moving down the mountain, I can’t help my body sliding into his due to gravity.
Still, I fucking try to give him his space, clutching the bars behind me for dear life, my arm muscles straining with the effort. After slipping down and pulling myself back about fifty fucking times, Rain reaches back and grips my knee with one hand, glancing at me over his shoulder.
“For fuck’s sake, just hold onto me, I’m sick of you sliding into my backside,” he shouts over the roar of the engine.
Oh there’s so much I could do with that.
Still, I keep my mouth shut.
Taking a deep breath, I uncurl my fingers from the storage rack and wrap my arms around him. I try desperately not to think about how good his back feels pressed against my torso, even with the empty backpack between us, or how my fingers are itching to slip under his jacket and sweatshirt in search of the smooth, warm skin of his abs.
I promise, I try really fucking hard.
The last thing I need is to pop a semi, or worse, a full blown boner from our bodies, fully clothed, smashed together.
We arrive down in town about thirty minutes later and my face and hands are fucking frozen from the wind since my dumb ass didn’t think to grab a pair of gloves before following him outside up at the cabin.