Page 32 of Hearts Adrift
Mouthful of cock.
Cocktail.
Massage.
River’s smirk. His fingers taking control. Taking over.
Taking me in every way there is to take me.
I don’t even realize I’m jerking off until I’m almost there, one hand on my dick, the other teasing and twisting my nipple—another weakness of mine, gets me there every time—and now it’s my own fault I can’t contain the vocal sighing issuing from my body right now in the rising steam of my early morning shower.
Then release.
Explosion.
All over the shower wall.
Every ounce of frustration that built up last night in the presence of that intense, beautiful man.
I’m literally out of breath as I collect myself after my orgasm, the hiss of the shower filling my ears, still gripping my dick as it pulses in the aftershocks of our time together.
Not often you take a shower and feel dirtier after.
The worst part is, I’m still horny.
I’m still obsessed.
I’m afraid I’m never gonna get him out of my mind.
I hole up in my bedroom in just a towel, my bed right against the window, sunlight warming one half of my body as I watch the video again, this time on my own phone. I’m glued to the screen, over and over while the video repeats, and I pay attention with the full story in mind. River’s side of it. The video is annoyingly shaky considering it’s being held by a presumably stable hand. And it focuses more on River and barely captures the director in it except for the last few seconds. I keep hearing the rush of gasps at the end, like no one saw the punch coming, like it was the most offensive thing they’d witnessed.Scandal, their gasps say.Shock and horror, their gasps say.What an evil thing to do.What an unhinged actor.What an atrocity…
I can’t help but feel like there’s something off about it.
Something … borderline artificial.
Manipulated.
Could this video have been edited?
Now I’ve got a new thing to obsess about as I lie back on my bed, phone held over my face, as I keep examining the video, pulling it apart frame by frame. Who’s holding the phone? Who is it that captured this altercation? Could it be someone sympathetic to the director?
Someonehiredby the director?
Could this scene, in its own way, be yet another thing that this director … directed?
I turn the volume way up, listening for anything else. It doesn’t help, so I hop off the bed, grab my earbuds from atop a pile of laundry, then curl into a chair and listen again at top volume, squinting, desperate to hear something that no one else has paid attention to, something that’s evaded the millions who’ve watched this video.
Try as I might, I’m certainly no Sherlock Holmes—to use River’s reference—and can’t ascertain anything useful past just ahunch that something isn’t right.
Strangely, this was the same gut feeling I had when I first saw the video on Chase’s phone last night long before I even talked to River and got the full story.
But how is River going to get out from under this?
What are his “industry professionals” doing for him?
Why did he run away from it all?
I’m still turning it over in my mind when I find Brooke at the Fair later in the day. She’s still setting up the inside of her kissing booth. I decide to both check in with my sister and distract myself. “Not sure about his,” I say after I approach the window, startling her. “Should we just cut to the chase and call it our mononucleosis booth?”
