Page 35 of Red River

Back in high school, alphas asked me out, pushed for more, but I always held back; something was missing—I wanted love.

Archer was right. Desire and gratitude weren’t the same as love. And if I was honest… I wasn’t ready. Not in this mess of a life where everything felt unsteady.

I guess my silence said it all.

Archer let out a quiet breath. "But… if you still just want to show me, you can. Watching and touching are two different things."

What? A spark of excitement flickered through me. Just a little bit of my naughtiness satisfied?

Slowly, I lifted my head from his chest, meeting his gaze. There was a slight, knowing smile on his lips. My heart pounded as I got up and moved toward the bed.

Kneeling on the mattress, I pressed my elbows down, pushing my buttocks up high in a way that felt both shameless and exhilarating.

This was something only Thomas had seen. Well… Thomas and the accoucheurs.

Flushed with excitement, I buried my face in the pillow, heat rushing down my neck as I heard Archer stand up and walk toward me. My pulse thundered in my ears. He was right there behind me. Less than two feet away. Watching.

Then, his voice came—low, smooth, and warm with something I couldn’t quite place.

"I have to agree with Thomas. Probably the prettiest hole I’ve ever seen."

My skin burned, my breath caught. And—damn—my dick twitched, filling with blood.

A mix of arousal and mortification swirled inside me all at once. The sheer realization that he was looking at me like this—that, in some strange, subtle way, I was giving myself to him. Not fully. Not yet. But this was a step, wasn’t it?

"I'm hard," I muttered into the pillow. Gosh. What the hell was wrong with me today?

Archer hummed. "Then touch yourself, River."

My entire face went up in flames. "What about you?"

"Do you want me to stare at your pretty hole and jerk off?"

I bit my lip. The idea was ridiculous. Brazen. But also amazing.

"Kind of…"

A pause. Then, a quiet chuckle. "Okay, River. Lead the way."

My heart slammed against my ribs as I slid my hand between my legs, wrapping my fingers around my aching cock. The second I started moving, I heard him do the same.

It was obscene.

It was delightful.

I was dying to look. God, I wanted to turn around and see him. But I didn’t dare.

Instead, I kept my face pressed into the pillow, body tingling with the knowledge that he was watching, that he could see the way my passage clenched involuntarily. He knew what that meant. I was so damn turned on it was ridiculous.

And maybe it was because of the situation—the sheer tension, the sheer filthiness of it—but it didn’t take long. Just a few minutes of desperate, erratic strokes, and suddenly, I let out a breathy, humiliating moan and came all over his bedspread.

I barely had time to process it before—thirty seconds later—I felt it.

Warm liquid splattered against my lower back, my ass, my thighs.

Heat pooled deep in my stomach at the realization.

Archer came on me.

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