Rivers

by S. L. Scott

  Her back is to me again, and she opens the window before sitting on the sill. “I didn’t need the money. My father did. I paid a debt to free him from it.”

  “What do you mean? What are you saying, Stella?” I can’t keep the edge out of my tone as anger flames in my veins.

  She says, “We sold the house, our cars, all of our belongings to pay off his gambling debt, but it wasn’t enough to cover what he owed. We still owed the fifty thousand dollars.”

  “Not you, him.” My tone causes her to jump and she turns to face me. “He owed fifty thousand dollars, so why were you paying off his debt?”

  “It’s all I had left to sell.”

  “Yourself?”

  “Yes.”

  Fucking Christ. I sit back, trying to not let my anger get the best of me. If it does, I’ll say something to upset her, and that’s the last thing I want to do. As painful as this should be for her, she appears numb. Speaking in facts as if there are no consequences to the act, as if emotions weren’t drowned in the reality of what happened that day. “Your dad let you sell yourself to pay off his debt? Jesus, Stella. He’s supposed to fucking protect you from evil, not sell you into it. I should have protected you.”

  “You? Rivers, you weren’t even here. You weren’t here because of my stubborn hurt feelings. If I would have slowed down and listened.” She closes her eyes again, but then opens them, and says, “As for my father, he didn’t know. He still doesn’t.”

  I stand, my hands fisted at my sides. “You were violated. You were raped. You wer—”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, Rivers. I was violated in ways that . . .” She releases a shaky breath. “I was given a choice. I, alone, made the decision.”

  I stare at her until my vision blurs. My heart stopped beating long before I noticed. I take a breath, trying to sound as neutral as she does, though the information is new to me. “What was the choice?”

  This time, she gets up before she speaks, coming to me.

  My heart.

  My soul.

  Star of my life.

  Star of my night.

  My pretty little mess with the sadness in her eyes puts her hands on my chest before landing the last blow. “Me or Meadow.”

  “What do you mean, Stella?” I can’t remain calm or neutral any longer. “What does that mean?”

  “They said—”

  I take her by the elbows, tempted to hold her in my arms, but I need to see her face. I need to get answers. “Who said?”

  “The loan sharks. When my dad hit his lowest point, he put it all in, everything we owned on a loan as collateral and then borrowed more money on top of that. He lost it all hours later in the basement of a strip joint in two hands of poker.”

  “Who are the loan sharks?”

  I find life in her eyes again as she seems to awaken from a nightmare. “I can’t tell you.”

  “We need to report them to the police, Stella. Just give me a name and I’ll do it.”

  “No, I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know the name?”

  “No, they used code names. There were three men. Two called each other colors—brown and yellow, like in Reservoir Dogs. The third was called Boss.”

  “What did you mean about you and Meadow?” I’m still holding her, wanting to hold on to her forever. “What did they make you decide?”

  Her gaze shoots away from mine. “Rivers, you don’t want to know the details. It won’t change anything anyway.”

  “I need to know. When was this?”

  She looks back at me. “Do you really want to know all this? How will it help?”

  “I want to know. I want to know how I can help you.”

  “You can’t help me.”

  “I need to however I can. Please tell me how.”

  She says, “It was six months ago, but how are you going to change the fact that I was taken in a car and parked outside the restaurant where Meadow works and asked point blank if it will be me who works off my father’s debt or my little sister? That’s the choice I had to make. So as much as I would have never chosen to sleep with their boss, I wasn’t raped. I’m responsible for the decision I made. I was picked up at the times and dates I chose.”

  I feel sick for her. “Could you have paid the fifty K?”

  “No. I didn’t have five dollars to my name at that point.”

  “It was only fifty. You should have called me. I could’ve helped. I would have helped you.”

  “Only? Jesus. Our lives can’t be more different than they are now.”

  Fuck. “I didn’t mean that it’s a drop in the bucket, Stella. I didn’t have much until last year, and then I got more with the tour and the album. But you have to understand I would have given my last dollar if you asked. I would have then too.”

  “I couldn’t have called you. It would have been humiliating. But I prayed at one point to have the option. I had no options, though. There was only one question asked of me—my sister or me—so there was never a choice. I had to protect my sister. I chose for her not to be tarnished. I chose for her never to have to endure what I did. By choosing myself to go, I chose to keep my sister safe.”

  Feeling violent toward these fucking scumbags, I say, “Because you saved your sister from being raped doesn’t mean you weren’t. This was an attack.” She sits on the bed, her shoulders weighed down.

  Her strength is a source of inspiration, but her experience a reckoning of our past devastation. She gave herself, something that is precious to her and to me, for the sake of her father’s losses. Fuck him.

  I’d understand if she didn’t want to do more. I’d understand and I’d wait while holding on to how her body came alive for me last night, remembering the look of lust mingled with something more when she stared into my eyes.

  Kneeling in front of her, I rest my hands on her legs. “They made you decide who was going to be violated. Because you chose to sacrifice yourself doesn’t take the blame off them. You were forced to do something you would have never done. I’m so sorry you had to go through that. There’s nothing I can say to take your pain away. Please know that I will do anything in my power to help you. Anything.”

  Resting her hands on my shoulders, she says, “I don’t want you involved. I want to forget it ever happened. The only reason I told you is because I thought you had the right to know that I’ve made decisions that change this, dirties it. Dirties you by association with me. You bought condoms before you knew the situation. Now that you do know, I won’t hold it against you if you decide you don’t want this to happen with me.”

  “Because you made a decision in a no-win choice doesn’t mean you wanted it. You had to do what you had to do. I won’t hold it against you for protecting your father and your sister. I will hold it against your dad and the fuckers who did this to you, though.”

  Releasing some of her tension, she says, “It was the last time I . . . it was the last time my body was with someone else.”

  “I should have never left. It was a domino effect that I started. I want you to know that I meant what I said before. Before we’re together, I want you to trust me. One hundred percent. To find comfort and pleasure when we’re together. If you’re not ready, I’m okay waiting as long as you need.”

  “I don’t want to wait.” Inhaling, she closes her eyes as if she needs the moment to recover. When her eyes settle back on mine, she says, “I’ve waited years for this.”

  When I rub her leg, my smile brings one to her lips. She adds, “I want to be with you again, but it’s not for selfless reasons.”

  That makes me chuckle. It’s funny how attraction works. She’s always drawn me in. When I was fifteen, it was a crush. I didn’t know her. I saw how she was with others, but for the most part, it was physical attraction.

  Now I’m looking at the most stunning woman in the world who feels sullied and not good enough for the man who sees her inner beauty. “You could have had sex with a hundred guys. Though I’m gl
ad you didn’t because my ego is pretty fragile these days, but you had the right. An act that didn’t involve your heart, or the soul you hold inside, doesn’t change what I feel for you. It doesn’t matter because I fell in love with you long before now and money paid can never amount to what we have. What we have is real. It’s right now. It’s organic and evolving. Fuck them. They can’t change us.”

  I take her and kiss her because when she said she wanted to forget the past, I realize it’s not only our past she’s trying to forget. Her arms come around me, and she kisses me with everything I know she has to give.

  Her need is felt in the way she tugs at my shirt and then opens the front of my jeans. Her desire has her kissing me with intensity as if I’ll pull away and leave her if she doesn’t. “Stella,” I say against her head when she looks down to undress me.

  “Rivers.” Her hands still, and she looks up at me. “Don’t treat me any different. Please. I need your rough hands on me. I need you to show me how much you want me. I’m not breakable. If I were, I wouldn’t be here now. So make love to me, but don’t be too gentle.”

  Too gentle. Too rough. I’ll find what feels good to her and be whatever she needs. I’ll take those fucking images that live in her head, troubling her, and erase them by loving her so much that they’ll be distant memories.

  Taking the hem of her shirt, I lift it up over her arms and head and set it aside before removing mine. My jeans are popped open, so I take them off along with my boxers. I’ll be vulnerable for her so she won’t ever feel alone.

  She takes off her bra and then the rest of her clothes. Standing there, she says, “Your tattoos look so incredibly sexy the way they cover your muscles. Three crows and a star for the superstar you are now.”

  Taking her hand, I hold her palm over the star that will only ever have one meaning. “This star is yours. Always was and always will be. It’s only for you.”

  Smiling, she says, “You’re lucky my name isn’t Portia or that star would be a pig.”

  “Is that what Portia means?”

  “Unfortunately, yes. Guess we can’t name our daughter that.”

  I pause my hand and look up from admiring the way her stomach has a gentle slope. I realize what she said was off the cuff and doesn’t mean anything, but I can’t help from pressing a little firmer on her belly and wondering what it would be like if there was a baby inside her. My baby.

  Realization fills her eyes, and they widen. “I didn’t mean . . . um, I’m not rushing anything. It was—”

  “I know. A comment. Nothing more.” Slipping my other hand around to her backside, I hold her there and she lets me, well aware of what I’m doing. “But what if it wasn’t.”

  This time, she slips out of my hold and backs toward the bed. “I don’t want to talk about that now or tomorrow or nine months from now.” Moving onto the bed, she pats the mattress beside her, and says, “Stay with me here in the present.”

  I can do that. She’s incredibly distracting, her legs parted with a slight bend at the knees. This is the here and now. All I’ve wanted for five years is this, is her. Moving onto the bed, I reach for the box of condoms and pull one out.

  She watches with rapt fascination as I cover myself. Bending down, I’m not gentle like she requested, taking what I want, when I want. I spread her legs to fit my shoulders and return my hand to her stomach, letting it span the width and adding pressure as I kiss that sweet, pink pussy of hers. When her back tries to arch, I hold her in place and slide my tongue through the softness of her lips.

  A moan is followed by my name that’s spoken from deep inside her belly. I don’t stop. I take just like she wants me to.

  Selfless.

  The word destructs on the tip of my tongue as I taste her sweet nectar. Making room, I lean back enough to replace my mouth with my hand and slip a finger inside her warmth. I’m a skilled guitarist. I know how to make her come using all I’ve learned and playing her like an instrument.

  I’m just not sure if I’m ready to let her have a release. I’m thinking of keeping her on the brink so we can come together. Stella grinds against my hand, seeking relief. I pull out and replace my finger with my cock one big inch at a time.

  A gasp and then a harsh intake of air draws my attention to her pretty face. “How do I feel, baby?”

  “So good. So much.” Her eyes open lazily as she takes a slow deep breath and looks into my eyes as I hover over her. Her hands drift from my shoulders to my jaw. “I want all of you, Rivers. Your body, your love, this look in your eyes forever. Kiss me.” Fuck. Yes. Forever.

  I push in a little more, causing her eyes to close with the motion. My lips touch hers, and she whispers, “I was always here waiting for you. I was always yours . . .” I push in farther, her words driving me to take more. “To love.” Further, the feel of her engulfing me begins to cloud my thoughts. “To fuck.”

  Fuck. I thrust all the way, as deep as I can go. Her head goes back, her words cries of desire. I kiss the underside of her chin and fuck.

  Fuck.

  Love.

  Fuck.

  Not gentle.

  Driving home everything I’ve wanted to tell her since the day we broke up. “I love you.” I fuck her selfishly. I fuck her to satisfy my own needs. I fuck her into an apology. “I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

  “Don’t say sorry,” she manages between panting breaths. “You feel so good.”

  I rest on my forearms and take her wrists in hand before pulling them above her head. Our palms press together. Our fingers entwine. Her body is stretched beneath me when I kiss her lips, showing her how much I care about her. “I meant I’m sorry for what I’m about to do to you.”

  Just as her mouth opens to take in more air, I fill it with my tongue and start chasing the high only she could ever give me, wanting to hear her as I fuck her hard and fast.

  Her moans aren’t filled with pain, but encourage me to keep going, to keep taking, to keep erasing every bad thing of our past. With her legs around me, she says, “Harder. Yes. So good, baby.” I want her to feel how good our future can be, to beg for more. “I’m close, Rivers. Faster. So close.”

  When her body tenses, her nails digging into the top of my hands, a jolt of electricity strikes like lightning inside me and I thrust until I let go, my body floating with hers into heaven.

  My north star guiding me home.

  21

  Rivers

  “Rivers?”

  I open my eyes. My head is on the pillow next to hers, my mouth at her ear. My body is heavy, the weight of my release zapping my strength. Did I black out? Can someone black out from feeling so much all at once, even if it’s all good?

  Her hands push against my shoulders, and she turns to face me. Our noses touch. “I can’t breathe.”

  “Sorry.” I roll to my back and lie beside her.

  A smile rolls across her face. “I liked it. I like you on top of me relaxed.”

  I chuckle. “Until the running out of air part.”

  “Yeah.” The top of her head leans against my shoulder, her hand between us moves to rest on me. “You weren’t gentle.”

  Shit. “Did I hurt you?”

  “Yes, but in ways I wanted.” She shakes her head. “I make no sense.” She turns onto her side to face me and runs her hand over my chest, stopping over my pounding heart. “Sometimes pain is pleasure. Like when you used to . . .” Pausing, she licks her lips and looks down. “I used to love when you’d be behind me and pull my hair or squeeze my breasts. It was a turn-on. An ounce of pain to produce so much pleasure.” Her breathing had regulated, but it picks up and deepens as she slides her hand between her great tits and lower . . . lower . . . lower. Two fingers slip into the slickness of her pussy, and she starts to circle her swollen clit.

  Although her eyes struggle to stay open, she does for me. Watching her touch herself is better than porn. My breathing deepens to match hers, my cock getting hard again. I yank the condom off and drop it besi
de the bed. “Can you come twice?”

  “I can come multiple times.”

  Holy fuck. This is the most delectably sinful sight I’ve ever seen. “You’ve learned some tricks.”

  “No tricks. Just treats and a lot of alone time over the years.” Tilting her chin toward me, she says, “Kiss me.”

  I don’t want to miss the show, but I’ll do what she wants. I kiss her, and as our tongues tangle, she takes my hand and lowers it to her other until I replace hers. I rub around and down, circling, teasing until she’s writhing and gripping my wrist.

  There are no breaks or ease in the way our mouths make love and my hand makes her come. I slide through her slick center until she grabs my hand and humps. My knuckles hit the sides of her thighs, my hand bigger than the space she’s left for me. “God,” she says, “I love how rough your hands are. How strong you are—Oh God. Yes. Yes.” She bites her bottom lip and squeezes her eyes closed as her body tenses and then she’s slick against my hand.

  There’s a sense of pride that fills my chest from making her come again. “How’d you do that?” I ask, fascinated by the woman she’s become.

  She laughs, though she looks exhausted. “I didn’t. You did.”

  Holding the back of her head, I pull her close until her mouth is pressed to mine. I kiss this goddess. I kiss her again just because I missed her so much. I missed kissing her like this. “God, I love hearing you say that, but I fucking love watching you go after what you want. You ready for another?”

  Still grinning, her eyes are closed. “I’m good, but if I can help you out, let me know.” Sleep hits her hard, and soon, I run my hand over her hair and kiss her forehead.

  “Sweet dreams, baby.”

  “Sweet dreams,” she whispers on the cusp of sleep.

  “I love you, Stella Lilith. Always have. Always will.”

  “Rivers!”

  I bolt upright and accidentally hit myself in the face with my hand. Fuck. “What?”

  Stella’s running around the room pulling her clothes on. “I need to go. I’m going to be late for work.”

  “What?”