Shallow River

by H. D. Carlton

  Involuntarily, my eyes drift shut as I get lost in the sensation. Just the right amount of pressure. The coil in my stomach is already dangerously tight. The pressure lifts from my clit and reappears right at my opening.

  My eyes snap open. “Mako,” I warn, my tone filled with trepidation. He lifts his eyes from his task, ensnaring mine in a heated dance.

  “You said you trusted me,” he reminds me, the wickedness still present on his face.

  I gasp when the tip of the handle slides past my lips and enters inside me. He doesn't push any further, waiting for me to protest or tell him not to stop, I don’t know what he wants. Too many thoughts and emotions are swirling through my body like a cyclone.

  I couldn’t tell you my left hand from my right in this moment.

  Licking my lips nervously, I give a subtle nod. I’m not capable of anything more than that. In one swoop, he pushes the handle all the way to the hilt, careful to keep the sharp metal away from my skin. My mouth falls open, no sounds escaping when my throat has completely closed.

  A moan breaks through when he draws the knife out, and then back in again. “Mako,” I groan loudly, no longer embarrassed by the wonton noises spilling from my tongue.

  “That’s it, baby,” he urges when my hips begin to rotate. He keeps the same, steady pace. It becomes agonizing, and soon, desperate mewls are following the moans. My hips rotate more insistently, my body begging for more.

  “What do you need?” he questions, refusing to quicken his pace.

  “More,” I whine, jerking my hips forward.

  “Tell me what you want,” he demands, still not giving into my body’s pleas.

  “Lick me,” I whisper urgently. I nearly scream from frustration when I feel his tongue dart out, licking my neck. Normally, I wouldn’t complain, but not when I need his tongue on my pussy instead.

  “Mako!” I bark, knowing damn well he knew exactly what I meant.

  “Yes?” he asks innocently.

  “Lick. My. Pussy,” I growl, my hand sliding into his hair roughly and tugging hard. I feel the smile against my neck.

  “Good girl,” he praises. He kisses my neck softly before he trails those kisses down my chest. Stopping at my breast, he wraps his hot mouth around my nipple. My head falls back, and my hips start rotating once more as he continues to plunge the knife inside me.

  He pulls another gasp from me when his teeth replace his tongue, and he bites down on my nipple. Hot pinpricks sluice through my nerves, nearly making me scream from the intensifying pain. But more potent than the sharp pain is the waves of pleasure rolling through my body. They blend together until I can’t tell the pain from the pleasure.

  With a pop, he releases my nipple. Placing on the sensitive area first, he continues his path past my breasts, to my stomach, and finally, down to my drenched pussy.

  He kneels before me, the knife firmly inside of me. When he looks up at me, his eyes darkened to a moss green, I nearly come right then and there. Seeing Mako kneel before me like a knight would a princess, I question why I never wanted him to save me.

  Keeping eye contact, he slowly leans forward and darts his tongue out to swipe at my clit. The small amount of contact sends my eyes rolling to the back of my head. Before they can find Mako's eyes again, he's growling and shoving his mouth on my core. I can’t stop the loud moan that bursts from my lips and echoes in the kitchen. Not when his tongue is so hot and sharp against my bud.

  He groans against me, sending delicious vibrations throughout my pussy. The only thing I can think to do is shove my hand through his soft hair and ride his mouth, careful of the knife still plunging inside me. The coil in my stomach tightens further and further. My stomach clenched as the orgasm crests. My body stills, making the fall over the edge that much sharper.

  The coil snaps and I let loose. Pure euphoria overcomes my body. It feels as if my soul lifts from my physical body. The screams coming from my mouth sound so far away, like I’m drifting above them as the waves of ecstasy wash over me.

  Distractedly, I feel the knife slip out of me and Mako pull away. My half-lidded eyes barely register Mako standing and slipping down his own jeans. The only that pulls me back down to earth is the feel of Mako's cock jutting out against my core.

  The sight has my eyes widening once more. I don’t think I'll ever get used to the sight of him. Incredibly thick, with a length that's surely not natural. Mako's cock is intimidating and mouth-watering, and right now, looks very angry.

  He wraps his arms underneath my legs and pulls me forward. My hands grip either side of the counter, steadying my body as he lines himself up. My brow wrinkles when I feel something wet against my thigh.

  I look over and notice an ample amount of blood coasting down my thigh, trailing from Mako's hand.

  “Oh my god,” I say. He lifts said hand and jerks my face towards his, not giving a damn that he's covering me in his blood.

  “Does it bother you?” he asks, his voice and face cast in a serious tone.

  It takes me a second to respond. Does his blood bother me? Not in the sense he thinks. I don’t like the thought of him hurt. But am I appalled by it? Turned off? No, none of those things. Furthermore, I get a feeling that Mako deliberately made himself bleed. I eye the tiny trail of dried blood on his neck. He didn’t even flinch when I did that. My eyes travel back to his. They’re fiery pits of lava spitting their need at me. The last thing Mako is feeling is hurt.

  I bite my lip and shake my head no.

  He doesn’t need to hear anything else. Tugging his plump lip between his own teeth, he lines himself up and plunges his cock deep into my pussy in one thrust.

  “Oh my—fuck, Mako!” My head thumps against the cabinet. I feel so impossibly full.

  Much like his ministrations with the knife, he glides out slowly before filling me all at once again. Intense pleasure shoots up my spine, causing my body to arch.

  He leans forward, pressing his body into mine and thrusting his hips in sharp little jabs. His lips find my ear, giving it a sharp nip.

  “Say it again.” The growled words radiate through my ear, down my spine and straight to where we’re connected.

  “Mako,” I grit hoarsely, the name punctuated by a sharp gasp when his cock slides deep inside me. I squeeze my eyes shut, desperate to come but just as desperate for the moment to never end.

  His hands slide down my thighs, one hand leaving a trail of blood. The sight sends a spike of pleasure to my core. Something about the wrongness of it turns me on that much more. Gripping my hips, he forces my body towards him as he begins to drive into me fast and hard.

  His grunts join my loud screams, the pitch of our voices and the joining of our bodies becoming a loud crescendo. The familiar tightening in my stomach warns me of the orgasm that’s surely going to devastate me.

  “Fuck, River, I need to fill you up. Come on my cock now,” he demands harshly. Just as simple as stroking a key on a piano, his demand has immediate results. The coil snaps and I fall over the edge once more.

  I can't breathe. My eyes roll and body convulses around him. Mako’s loud grunt is my only warning before he slams inside me a few more times and then stills. Hot spurts of cum fill me up, so much of it that it leaks past his dick.

  “Fuuuuck, River,” he groans, long and hard.

  Our breathing is heavy and choppy. It feels like all the bones from my body have been extracted, making me feel like a melting skin bag.

  “I think that worked. Knives are my new favorite thing.”

  “THE GHOST KILLER’S MOST recent victim, River McAllister, rebuilding her life after tragic kidnapping.”

  Red bleeds into my vision. Victim. That’s what I’m known for. Not someone who survived. Just someone who was victimized. I crumple the paper in my fist and throw the stupid newspaper across the living room. Mako’s eyes turn to me, a brow raised in question.

  “Who even reads the goddamn newspaper anymore?” I mutter, my cheeks flushing red with lingering
anger and embarrassment.

  “Apparently you,” he states bluntly.

  I sniff. “Well, not anymore.”

  “You’re still reading those articles?”

  “They’re everywhere!” I explode, tossing my hands in the air with frustration. “The Ghost Killer’s victim does this, the victim does that. When are they going to stop referring to me as a victim and not a goddamn survivor?”

  Mako opens his mouth to speak, but I cut him off. “Matter of fact, when are they just going to leave me the fuck alone? Whether I’m a victim or a survivor, reminding me of my trauma isn’t healing for me!”

  The investigation was closed fairly quickly after Billy’s death. With Amar and Mako’s statement supporting mine, they deemed it case closed. The Ghost Killer was officially off the streets, that’s all they really cared about anyway.

  I decided it was best to get myself into therapy. It’d be awfully hypocritical of me to become a therapist but refuse the service for myself. It’s been helping, but I’ll never be able to talk about the real truth. What I did to Ryan and Billy, and how I killed them so callously. Only a few people know the truth, but Mako is the only one that truly knows the details of what happened on both those days. It’s something that’s deepened our connection tremendously.

  Some nights, we stay up until dawn, talking through my feelings and thoughts on the matter while he just listens. I’ve already concluded I’m not entirely sane due to the years of abuse and trauma. Certain things are triggering for me, even something as small as Mako raising his hands towards my face.

  I’ve also concluded Mako isn’t sane, either. Purely because he’s okay with staying with a lunatic like me. He loves my crazy, and accepts every single part of me, including the dark, murderous side. Even now, I haven’t fully accepted that yet. There’s a small part of me that’s waiting for Mako to turn on me and become a familiar monster. But every day, he proves he’s the furthest thing from a monster, and more like the knight in shining armor I never wanted him to be.

  Mako sets down his phone and scoots across the couch until he’s huddled around me.

  “I can’t tell you why they choose to see you as a victim and not a survivor, and I can’t tell you why they choose to see you as a story and not a person, but what I can tell you is the people who matter do see you as those things. You’re right that it’s not healing for you, so maybe its best you just stop reading the articles.”

  I sigh, my shoulders drooping.

  “I just want the rest of the world to move on like I’m trying to do. I don’t want to be known as Ryan Fitzgerald’s late girlfriend anymore. Or the Ghost Killer’s victim. I just want to be me and the rest of world goes back to not knowing who I am.”

  He turns my body and scoops me up under my butt and settles me onto his lap. My legs circle around his waist. Calmness washes over me with his presence enveloping me. As much as my inner badass hates to admit it, this is where I feel safest. In Mako’s arms.

  My life was so bleak before he came into my life. I was constantly surrounded by the evil of the world that sucked all the good things out of life from me and left me with nothing but the will to die. Now, I have all those things back. All the good things. Hope. Love. Safety. A real future. And the will to live. Mako handed those things back to me like he was picking them out of the Lost and Found bin and handing them back to their rightful owner.

  “It’s impossible for people to forget about you, baby. All you can do is show them who you are. What they take from it is no concern to you. Other people’s thoughts and opinions won’t change you.”

  I lean in and place a soft kiss on his lips.

  “Thank you,” I whisper.

  “For what?”

  “For reminding me of who I am.”

  I’m worthy. I’m strong. I’m independent. And I’m a survivor.

  Epilogue

  River

  TWO MONTHS LATER

  “I THINK IT’S TOO soon for this,” I say, my eyes locked on Bilby as I pet him. He glances at me and jumps away. I think he just showed me his disagreement.

  He’s recovered from the stint with Ryan. Mako and him have taken to each other. Constantly cuddling and butting heads. I think I’m Bilby’s second favorite now. It’s as annoying as it is cute.

  “What is?” he asks.

  I flick my pointer finger between myself and the living room.

  “Staying here every night. Leaving clothes here. I’m practically living here now. I’m pretty sure it’s too soon. Are we even boyfriend and girlfriend? You never asked me, you know. You never asked me to move in, either. Are these things that we’re supposed to just assume, but never speak about? Are we not going to have an anniver—”

  “Baby, please shut up,” he orders softly, his deep voice lower than usual. The sound has my core clenching with need. God, what his voice can do to me alone is wholly unnatural. And after the knife incident a couple months ago, my body has been more reactive to him than before. Mako’s kinkiness has opened a whole new door of desire for me.

  My lips snap shut, tightening into a straight line. I’m nervous. I don’t know why I’m nervous, though.

  Mako walks towards me. Or rather, he prowls towards me. He looks like a tiger stalking prey the way he approaches me. My breath catches and my nerves light up like fireworks. When Mako Fitzgerald turns all of his attention to me, I come alive.

  “Do you want to be my girlfriend?” he asks, but not in the typical high school way, but rather, asking me what I want. He pulls my body to the edge of the couch and crouches before me, settling his hands on my bare thighs. Goosebumps pimple across my skin from the slide of his flesh on mine. I’m too enraptured by him to be embarrassed by my reaction.

  He’s always giving me a choice. Always coercing me to voice my opinion and stand up for what I want. I’ve had my freewill and voice stolen from me since I could remember. Billy was the first, like a child ripping a voice box out of a doll. No one has ever let me have it back until Mako. It feels like breaking in new boots—it hurts and it’s uncomfortable, but once I’m used to it, I’ll feel secure and comfortable standing up for myself. Knowing that I’ll no longer get a slap to the face—or worse—because I spoke up.

  “Yes,” I say finally. Mako doesn’t look surprised by my answer. I suppose putting a label on it doesn’t really change things between us. In these past two months, Mako and I have moved beyond just boyfriend and girlfriend anyway.

  “Do you want to be here every night?” he asks again, his emerald green eyes growing more intense.

  A single nod. “Yes,” I whisper.

  “And if it becomes too much for you, then you’re welcome to leave,” he states bluntly. I don’t take offense. It’s exactly what I need to hear. “But I’ll admit, I won’t want you to.”

  “Are you going to try and convince me to stay?”

  “Yes,” he murmurs, sliding his hands up towards my shorts. My breath catches in my throat. “In the hopes you’ll pull a knife on me again.”

  I roll my eyes, a small smile cracking my face. His words have their desired effect, nonetheless, causing my blood to heat despite my efforts to stay cool. I’m never cool when it comes to Mako, though. His presence eats up any semblance of control I possess, and feasts on it like a starving man. I’m unhinged around him, and I’ve never felt so fucking good.

  “Maybe I should try to leave then,” I say around a gasp, when he bends down to place a chaste but electrifying kiss on my knee.

  “Or maybe you could stay.” My attention is pulled away from his magnetic eyes when I feel something cool sliding on my ring finger. A gasp lodges in my throat when I look over and see a beautiful princess cut diamond ring nestled on my finger. My eyes widen and snap back to Mako’s. His eyes ensnare mine as he leans down and places another chaste kiss on my knee. “Maybe just for a little while?”

  “I SWEAR ON ALL THAT is holy, I am so divorcing you, David. When this baby is out of me, it’s over,” Amelia seethes o
n her hospital bed. “This is all your fault. You insist on getting me knocked up and now I’m—ahhhhhh!” Her tirade is cut off by another contraction. She bares her clenched teeth, her face turning red from the pain.

  David just sits there calmly and takes it. We both know Amelia doesn’t mean a damn thing coming out of her mouth. She was feeling him up on the ride to the hospital before the contractions started getting more intense and closer together.

  She went from lovingly stroking his dick to wanting to rip it off in a matter of minutes. After Amelia was admitted and getting settled in, Amelia’s threats started. I cracked up when David subtly angled his lower half away from her.

  She went into labor pretty quick. Alison, Mako and I were visiting them, drinking wine—sans Amelia— and eating tacos when her water broke. Alison and I hitched a ride with David and Amelia, so we could try our best to comfort her while Mako followed behind us. He and Alison stayed outside of the room. Amelia screamed she didn’t want Mako seeing her clam and to get out—her words, not mine—and Mako looked like he was just told he won the lottery and high-tailed it out of the room. Alison blushed and followed after, apparently not wanting to see Amelia’s clam, either.

  “You’re crowning. I’m going to have you start pushing in a minute,” the nurse announces. Amelia’s doctor comes rushing in the room a second later, already scrubbed in.

  “Are we ready to meet a beautiful baby?” the doctor asks excitedly and smiling wide, her straight, white teeth a stark contrast to her deep brown skin. Dr. Ivy Jackson is the one of the best renowned doctors in the country, and Amelia refuses to let anyone else touch her during the delivery. I’m pretty sure if Dr. Jackson had not been able to deliver Amelia’s baby, she would’ve tried to plug herself up in stubbornness.

  “Doc, get this alien out of me,” Amelia whines, sweat gleaming across her forehead. Dr. Jackson laughs and settles down between Amelia’s legs.