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Sometimes she stares over to my side of the trees like she’s trying to seek me out, and I wish I could go to her. That there wasn’t such a wedge between my people and hers.
I get a helpless sense of hope from the fact she still comes here. Maybe she likes me being near, or at least that’s what I tell myself.
I’ve been away with Prez for two whole weeks, I could have fucked my way through every whore at the Long Beach Charter during that time, but I find myself thinking about the girl by the river more and more these days. In fact, I can’t get her out my fuckin’ head. Women have become faceless, and I’m getting fed up with fucking faceless women.
I get that my obsession stems from the fact I can’t have her. But just recently, I’ve been witnessing my brothers cause wars for the bitches they want in their lives. Things are changing around here, brothers are committing, setting themselves up for life. And when I think of myself shacking up with an old lady, there’s only one face I can imagine ever wanting to come home to every night.
After a long run through the woods, I reach my usual spot a few yards away from the water edge, and I can’t help smiling to myself when I see her, right where she belongs. The warmer months have made the water suitable for bathing again and she’s already in it up to her waist, surrounded by soap suds.
It doesn’t take long for the urge to be closer to start tugging at my insides. It’s been a long time since I last saw her. So long, that I don’t seem able to control myself.
Instead of heading toward her, I move to follow the soap bubbles as they travel with the water, flowing over the edge of the smaller waterfall. I stay out of sight, using trees and rocks to keep myself hidden from her as I travel to lower ground. Then I drag my T-shirt up over my head, kicking off my running shoes, and pushing down my running shorts before I follow temptation into the water. The chill of it does nothing to distract me as I wade closer to the tiny waterfall that keeps the river running. I’m submerged to my waist now, and I catch handfuls of the white foamy water that falls, dousing my face with it. I splash it over my skin, knowing that this is the closest I’ll ever get to her.
The thought of touching her bare skin gets me hard, especially when I still smell the vanilla balm on the suds as I turn my back against the flow of the water. I let it cascade over me, soaking my hair and flowing over my shoulders while I use my hands to rub her scent all over my body.
If my brothers saw me now I’d never hear the end of it, but they won’t, because none of them would come here, and I don’t care how stupid it is. I feel connected to her. For that reason, I remain, with the water raining over me for long after the vanilla scent disappears.
Eventually, after a fucking reality check, I realize how pathetic all this is, and I open my eyes, pushing myself from the rock where my back is resting. I’m starting to make my way back toward my clothes and suddenly pause when I notice the reflection in the water in front of me. I follow it all the way to the edge and when I see her standing there, staring back at me, I’m fucking speechless.
There’s still distance between us, but this is the closest we’ve ever been and I take a few more paces forward. The water level drops below my thighs, and her eyes stretch wide when she sees me… all of me.
I have no rational explanation to offer her for why I’m here. Hell, I have no explanation for myself, other than a compulsion that stokes flames inside me. So I stay silent, watching her swallow thickly, her lashes beating like the wings of a startled butterfly. A blush heats her cheeks as she raises her pupils back up to meet with mine.
Still, no words are spoken but she starts to back away from me, and I feel a stab of pain in my chest when I realize I’ve scared her.
“Wait.” I make another step forward, reaching out my arm and willing for the distance between us to close, so she’s touchable. But instead of bringing us closer together, my action frightens her more and she bolts, deep into the forest, getting as far away from me as she can.
I rush out of the water and struggle back into my clothes, stomping off in the opposite direction back toward the club.
My cock is still fucking hard from the attention she showed it, and desperation claws me from the inside, craving some kinda release. Checking around to make sure I’m alone, I rest my palm against a thick trunked tree, and shove my other hand inside the front of my track shorts to grab a firm hold of my cock. I shut my eyes, drawing back the vision of her and that perfect naked body as I pull myself through my fist, remembering how her delicate fingers had stroked her skin when she washed, and how her thick black eyelashes had fluttered open and shut.
How the fuck have those eyes managed to carve a scar into my soul so deep, when I don’t even know her name?
She’s a member of a tribe that is bordering extinction, clinging to their culture in the same way they do the land where they’ve settled. The same sacred land that I’m here fucking my palm on.
The memory of her eyes on my cock sends a jolt through my spine, and with one last angry pump into my fist, I shoot hot threads of cum at the tree trunk in front of me, dropping my head into the forearm that's resting against it. I force myself to breathe, then I slam the fist I used to relieve myself into the bark when I realize the hollowness is still inside me, cutting deeper into my chest.
I’m savage when I trudge back onto the compound with my soaked clothes sticking to my skin. The yard outside the cabins is still deserted, and I know there won’t be any sign of life for a few hours yet. Not unless Squealer decides to kick one of his visitors out early.
I slam my cabin door behind me in frustration. I’ve lived alone since Jessie moved Maddy in with him, and times like these make me appreciate having my own space.
A knock comes from the door, and for a tiny second, a pathetic part of me wonders if she’s followed me through the forest. Not a chance.
I swing the door open and Jessie’s standing on the other side, looking a little shocked when he sees the state of me.
“Been trying to call ya, Prez wants us all down at church, ASAP.” The tension in Jessie’s voice suggests that shit’s about to go down, and I’m fucking thirsty for it. My fight is still a good few months away, and the tension that’s been riddling my body just lately is overpowering my focus.
“I’ll be there in ten,” I assure Jessie, shutting the door and marching off to find some dry clothes.
Prez looks anxious, his fingers tapping against the wood table as he waits for everyone to get here. Grimm’s one of the last to arrive, and when he takes his seat beside me, I notice his normally immaculate hair sticking up in all directions and the dark bags beneath his cold eyes.
“Jesus Christ, I can smell Rogue’s pussy on your fingers,” Squealer pipes up, and Grimm reacts by snatching Squeal's hand in his fist and crushing it. Grimm’s changed a lot since he found his fucked up soul mate. We’ve all known him to be a no-nonsense kinda guy, but just lately, he’s found that aggression he’d always seemed to be lacking.
“I’ve warned you on talkin’ shit ‘bout my girl,” he reminds Squeal with a narrow side stare.
“Cool it, kiddo, I was just tryin’ to lighten the mood.” Squeal smiles, wedging a toothpick between his teeth. Grimm shakes his head, eventually releasing his grip.
“Smells fuckin’ sweet though.” Squealer sniffs his newly freed hand and winks, determined to have the last word. I notice Jessie give them both a subtle shake of his head, adding to my suspicions that whatever’s brought us here so early is serious.
