by Marci Fawn
One of his hands falls away from my body to his cock, and he frees it completely, kicking his shorts away to the beach as the waves crash gently around us. I don’t want him to have to do this… Especially when I so need to. I can feel my body shake as I think about it, and I’m desperate to have inside me.
I take his cock in my hand, running my fingers along it gently as I bring it to my slit, closing my eyes as I imagine it pushing inside me. But that doesn’t happen. My eyes open to River shaking his head at me, and I groan.
He runs the head of his cock along my slit, teasing me as he rubs, and I know that he’s loving my moans and, for now, I will get nothing more.
Until I do, and he’s pushing himself inside me, us both holding each other in our arms as the beach continues its daily life. It’s so cold, and we’re each other’s only source of heat…
We kiss and bite each other, tasting each other, moving slowly so we can savor the other’s body like the night will never end.
We stay there, me beneath him and us together as one. It’s beautiful, perfect, and right… So right, that we stay there until morning.
River
We’re both covered in sand. Faith is so sleepy and beautiful, her eyes fluttering open as she smiles, cuddling closer to me when she finds we’ve drifted apart in our sleep – no longer one on top of the other, but still so close that her cuteness is silly.
I stretch away from her, making her moan in protest.
It’s not that I want to be away from her, but I know what I’m doing. I lift a pile of sand into the palm of my hand, trying not to let too many grains of it escape. When she turns to get more attention from me, I raise my hand above her head, dropping the sand into her hair before I tap her on the forehead, grinning.
“You’re a mess,” I tease her, my eyes running down her body to where I can still see all the kisses I left there last night. She blushes, like I’d hoped she would, and I run a hand down her neck. It isn’t even sexual. I just want to touch her, and I let her know it.
“You did it to me!” She bats my hand away with a smile, her voice rising. Then she picks up sand and throws it at me, and we’re play fighting, careful not to get the grains of sand in each other’s eyes.
“Whatever,” I flick her forehead. Fuck. I’m way too soft. But… I’m soft with her. Only her. “More importantly,” I cough, changing the subject from my supposed inability to defend myself, as she says, “we need to figure out a way to get back to the house without being seen.”
It’s early morning now. It’s light and people will be here, and there is no way in hell I’m sticking my dick back in those sand-filled boxers now. I don’t expect Faith to want to put her clothes back on, either, not that she was wearing much in the first place. I reach out and grab one of her nipples, hard, pinching it and watching as sand falls from her skin.
“See,” I growl, feeling my cock getting hard again. “You’re a mess.”
I see her react to my touch, her hands immediately going to me as her thighs squeeze together.
But it’s early morning… I don’t care if we’re seen – fuck, I would probably enjoy having someone watch and see me claim Faith as mine. I just want to fuck her right now – but it’d probably embarrass Faith for strangers to see her impaled on my cock the way I’m imagining.
So I deny her, keeping distance enough as I tease her pussy with my thumb. She narrows her eyes, lusty and annoyed.
This woman is mine, and she knows it.
I cough again, pretending that I only care about getting back to the house. Truth is, I want to drive her wild, tease her until she’s begging me to fuck her, like I still haven’t… I want to rile her up and then deny her wants until she’s almost over the edge.
Oh, yeah. Just not now.
The villa is a way’s up a hill from here, and I can see that we wound up a little farther away from it then either of us was expecting.
We start our walk. Almost immediately, I lift Faith into my arms. I like feeling her there, and her feet are bare. Mine are, too, but Faith is smaller, softer, and I don’t want her to hit a rock and hurt herself. We decide to try to enter the house from a side door, and get to our bedroom and to a shower after walking through the kitchen.
As soon as we get there, I realize it’s a mistake.
“What the fu—“
“River!” Faith silences me, her voice almost a hiss as she stands on her toes to keep me from swearing in front of Dawn. But I can’t help it. The rest of the word slips out and gets caught in the palm of her hand as I stare at him – Thomas.
My PR manager.
“…are you doing here?” Shit.
I finish my sentence, realizing that Dawn is here, that’s why Faith didn’t want me swearing. We both jump, hiding behind a table as Sabrina grabs her, moving away and mumbling something about not knowing where we were to give warning.
I glance to Dawn as she leaves, making sure she hasn’t noticed. She hasn’t. Good. But I don’t get why this guy is here bothering my family.
Except I know exactly why he’s here. I’ve run off from my job to be with them.
Gave no notice, no warning.
No fucks, basically, but I can’t exactly say that with a toddler around.
Thomas looks at both of us, his eyes lingering too long on Faith and I growl at him, not the way I’d growl at Faith, but in the way that tells him to knock his shit off or get his shit knocked out.
He’s been there for me and he’s helped me out with lots of things. I’m pretty sure I have most of my career to thank him for, him and his advertising. But he’s not helping now.
He raises both of his eyebrows, clearly amused and a little pissed off as well. “I’ll give you two a second to get adjusted. And dressed,” he turns his back, but doesn’t leave.
“Faith, you go upstairs,” I nod to the staircase and put a hand on her back, comforting her as she runs up the stairs with a confused look on her face. “I don’t care about being naked.”
I move back in front of Thomas from behind the table. I was only back there because Faith was nervous and she’d jumped first, and I wanted to protect her.
I sit in a white stool next to the table – four of them, I notice. And there’s four of us already here, so clearly Thomas is unnecessary.
I voice the thought to him.
“Nice to see you, too, River,” he says, grabbing a stool and turning it so he sits across from me. He has it positioned so the back is to me and his arms are over it, with his legs sprawled across either side of it.
I hate it when other guys sit like that. Douches.
“You’ve been ignoring our calls.”
“Our?” I say, raising an eyebrow and mocking him.
“Our,” he repeats, pulling out his phone and showing me all the calls he’s sent me. Ones I hadn’t even noticed. I’d only given Coach’s any merit.
“Mine. And Daniels. And…” He continues off a list of names of people and their petty bullshit, and I don’t listen until he pulls out an envelope. He throws it on the table and motions for me to open it with a nod of his head.
I grimace at him, and push the envelope back with two fingers. “If there’s supposed to be bad news in there,” I warn him, “you can just tell me. Actually,” I add, “I expect you to tell me.”
He shakes his head in disdain and rips it open. A stack of photos falls out onto the table and he pushes these towards me.
“Are you going to look through these yourself? Or are you going to make me do it?”
“Now that you say it, actually,” I smile, “I think I’ll make you do it. Thanks.”
Christ, I’m an asshole. It’s more noticeable now because of how soft I’ve been around Faith and Dawn and…
Shit.
He grins at me.
“That’s the stuff, kid,” he says. And for a second, I’m confused. Until he flips over the pictures.
“The news has been going crazy. This is what they have of you, so far. There’s
this one, and this one, and…”
Pictures.
Of me and Faith.
Standing on the boat. Me fighting Jason. The news reads that she’s my wife, and that we have a daughter together. There’s photos of us landing in Santorini, and my eyes flash to the last photo as he holds it up, his face grim.
“And this,” he says, “Is probably the worst of all of them. What the fuck are you doing, River?”
The photo shows us wrapped together on the beach, from last night. But I hadn’t seen it in any magazines…
Wait a second.
“I won’t send this to anyone if you come back, River.” He says.
So the bastard took it.
I clench my fists at my sides, not wanting to beat the shit out of my own PR guy and ruin what I have with Faith and Dawn here.
“This isn’t going great for you, X. You aren’t a father,” he continues.
“Fuck, you’re, twenty-three. You have a bright future ahead of you, kid. You don’t love this girl, much as you think you do. You could pay to take care of them from a distance, if you want, but you’ll find another one. You have a match coming up. Six days from now. You have a flight in three to make it there in time for some autographs and some damage control. Be there or be square.”
I watch as he pushes himself up from the chair and I don’t even feel angry anymore, just sick. And I know that I have nothing to say in response.
He’s got me.
And I’ve got to go back to my career.
Since when the fuck had Thomas turned into such a heartless bastard? I remember him as sweet. Cutthroat with other executives and the media, though. I’m just on the other side of the knife now.
He turns to me, winking. “Think about it, Xavier.”
Faith
I know I’m not supposed to be listening, but I can’t help it.
I lean my head against the door, listening to every word in horror and surprise. But mostly horror. I jump back from the door as soon as I hear the man – I think his name was Thomas, but I wasn’t really paying attention to him so I’m not sure – leave.
I know River is still walking around in the kitchen somewhere, probably clearing his head as he gets ready to leave.
He is going to leave, I just know it.
He has to.
I heard what the man said. If I were River, I’d be leaving too. I don’t want River to leave, but… He has to. And deep down, I think he always was going to.
Us being together for good as a family was too good to be true, and my father had some things to say about that when he was alive. I didn’t listen to him then because he usually used it as an excuse to pass up opportunities, but it looks like he was right.
I move away from the door so that if River opens it and goes in my direction, he won’t hit me. I move to the wall nearby so that he won’t see me, either, and then I slump down. My head is in my hands and I’m about to cry, but then I hear her.
My daughter.
She toddles her way over to me, concern evident in her eyes as she looks at her mother. She asks me what’s wrong, and I can’t answer her – she’s almost four. My daughter shouldn’t be comforting me.
What have I done?
I ignore the question, kissing the soft curls near her forehead instead.
“What’s the matter, baby girl?” I ask her, grabbing her and pulling her towards me. I hold her close, and it’s like I’m comforting her, when really I’m getting comfort from my own daughter. It’s going to be just her and me, for the first time. We weren’t alone when Jason left us – River was chasing after us, and he found us, was with us.
He won’t chase after us anymore, I guess.
“Is River leaving?”
She looks up at me. Children know things and Dawn is one of the smartest of the bunch. River might say she takes after me… I didn’t tell her that River was her father and now I’m glad I didn’t.
I promised River that I would tell her…
I’m such a liar.
I shake my head against her hair, holding her close to me as the tears threaten to spill out of my eyes. My eyes are hot and the lashes stick together. But I can’t cry. Not around Dawn. She can’t know that anything’s wrong.
“No, sweetie,” I lie through my teeth. I’ll find a way to make it up to Dawn later, but I feel sick betraying her trust like this. She always reminds me that she’s a big girl, and that she’ll be five next year – her words, not mine. I know how old she is. She grows up so fast. I just don’t want to have to make her grow up any faster.
“Let’s go upstairs. It’s late,” I say, pulling her into my arms and getting ready to stand. She’s getting heavy and soon I won’t be able to pick her up anymore, not like River can. He’s so strong, it’s so easy for him to pick her up – for him to pick us both up. He’s leaving. No one will pick up Dawn anymore. Even though it’s a struggle, I make my ways towards the stairs.
“It’s morning!” She protests through her yawns, demanding I look through the windows to see the sunlight creep in. From the way the sky clings to the morning and the way it rises up against the coast, I’m guessing it’s barely six.
Too early for Dawn to be awake.
“Hm,” I kiss her on the forehead again instead of responding, tickling her for her silliness. “You’re silly, goose. A silly goose.”
She denies it, but she’s smiling all the while. We make it up the stairs and I tuck her into my bed – a bed that will soon be occupied by only me, instead of me and River – so Sabrina can get some more rest.
I notice the bags under Sabrina’s eyes when we eat breakfast; Dawn is a hyper child. Besides, it might be harder for her to interrupt any talk between River and me in here.
And I do need to talk to River.
About us. About everything.
He needs to know we can never see each other again.
I just don’t know how to tell him why. He can’t know I heard him…
Every step I take towards the kitchen, I feel a little piece of my heart die. The hard white tile beneath my feet is the same as it was when we got here almost two weeks ago. Nothing about the lines in the wood has changed.
The cabinets are the same too. Even the table River and I sat at is adjusted, all the seats pushed back into place like he wasn’t just sitting there ten minutes ago breaking my heart.
Not that he knew he was…
But River isn’t here. And I need to go look for him.
I cry out his name as I walk along the beach, and part of me wonders if he’s already left. It sounded like Thomas was offering him a few days more to get there, to say goodbye. Maybe he decided to go without farewell. Make it easier on both of us. Or maybe he didn’t care enough to. Maybe he never cared at all.
I can’t think like that. I know he loves me… But the way I feel about this situation is tainting every memory I’ve ever had together, and it feels like each moment was just another stepping stone to the buildup of heartbreak.
When I finally find him, he’s sitting in the sand where we made love last night. He’s put on some clothes, though. Loose fitting shorts and a looser shirt that blow with the wind, making it seem like he’s running away from something even though he’s sitting still.
I throw myself down beside him.
But I don’t say anything.
And neither does he.
For a while, we just sit there. The wind blows and the water moves, the driftwood from the ocean creeping in to the beach as the waves beat down on it.
Nothing will bow to water. It’s unbreakable.
But… We aren’t.
I move my hand to his, offering it to him, and he takes it in his. Still we sit there quietly. It’s not as tense as this should be. As soon as I speak, that changes everything.
“River.”
“Faith.”
We say each other’s names at the same time, stumbling over each other in our attempts to get through whatever we have to say first. He’s sitting beside m
e and pulling me to him, telling me that it’ll be all right, that he’ll come back…
He’s giving me promises, promises of constants, like the wind and the waves around us.
We can never be that constant.
He has to know. He has the right to know.
“River,” I gulp out his name again, moving my eyes down so he doesn’t see how little I mean what I’m saying.
“River…” I repeat his name again, trying to sound less unsure. He’s taking none of it and he grabs my chin, making me look at him.
And every hope I had of sounding reasonable fades away as he looks at me. Eye to eye. Not for the first time, but probably for the last. I blurt it out.
“We’re not going to work out, River.”
He stares at me, his eyes shocked and then going cold after that phase of visible hurt I know I’ll never be able to get out of my mind.
“What? Faith,” he presses a hand to my forehead, trying to be the jokester he usually is. The man I fell in love with. The man I love. “I think you’re getting sick, baby.”
“No,” I shake my head. He can’t know I overheard, or he’ll just want to go back to me. He needs to think this is all my doing, but I can’t bring myself to break his heart like that.
“River, this is nice, and, and, everything. It’s nice,” it’s the best thing I’ve ever had. I can’t believe I’m saying this.
“But we’re not right.”
We’re perfect.
We were born to live and die together, leave our mark on the world as one.
“After this…” I breathe. Breathe, Faith. Breathe. “I don’t want to see you again.”
Our hands are entwined until the last sentence, the grip getting weaker and weaker with each word.
River’s jaw clenches. He throws his fist into the sand and gets up, running as far away from me as he can. Then I get up too, and I’m running away from myself as best I can, too, but I’ll always be stuck with me.
