Page 18 of Our Secret to Keep

I wonder how he tastes.

No, too far.

I’m not gay.

River consumes my thoughts, invades every inch of my fucking life. I can’t breathe without him nearby, which makes me sound really damn needy. But I am. When it comes to River, Ineedto be near him constantly.

It’s a sickness.

An obsession.

He crosses the room, but not without taking a good look at my big dick. Whenever we fuck chicks, he watches me. And I can’t get enough of it. I’m addicted to River Rousseau. He makes me feel shit that screws with my head.

River stands beside my chair and glances out the window when I want him to look at me. “We had a deal, Nate. One girl. No more group sex. You wanted Samantha.”

“I’m not going to fuck them. Just let me look and shut up.”

He snickers. “I wish you would find someone who makes you happy and stop searching for the next woman to fill the void.”

I’m incapable of a serious relationship. Whenever a girl gets too close, I freak out and lose control. I won’t allow anyone to have power over me.

Never again.

Only River has any hold over me, and it’s because I let him have it. I can’t function properly without him by my side.

“I chose Samantha. For us.” No longer in the mood, I tuck my half-hard cock back into my pants. “She’s meeting us later.”

He sits on my bed, facing me, palms on his muscular thighs. “How long will this one last before you replace her with those sorority chicks?”

Why is he such a downer?

Since the last sex tape, River has been so uptight. Now, we have these stupid rules, which I promised to follow because sex without him doesn’t work. I can’t be with a woman unless River is there.

The fucker knows it, too.

He holds it over my head.

Dangles sex like a carrot.

“Samantha can stick around for as long as you want her,” I tell him, hoping to keep River happy.

He nods, his expression giving away nothing.

“I’m hungry.” I rise from the chair, hand extended to pull him up from the mattress. “Wings or pizza?”

He considers my question, lips pressed together. “I was thinking tacos.”

“Whatever.” I shrug and head toward the door. “I’m easy.”

“Yeah.” He laughs. “You are.”

I spin around to look at his smug face. If I were into men, River would be it for me. I’d be on my knees, worshiping all of his muscles. My hands and tongue would be on every inch of his killer body. I would spend extra time loving his monster cock. It’s nice. River has a—dare I say it—beautiful dick.

I mean, mine is awesome, too. But there’s something about seeing his that excites me. Or maybe it’s how he looks at me while he touches himself.

Fuck, what am I thinking?

I don’t like men.

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