by Shey Stahl
Not entirely convinced, I nod to appease him and step outside where my parents are gathered at a table with Mitchel and a woman I’ve never met. River’s in the yard, a bowl of fruit in her lap feeding Kona. I had to bring him over here while I was moving the other day rather than keeping the poor thing cooped up in the house.
My father stands when he notices us and motions to the table. “Let’s have some food and then we can talk.”
I’d like to say he means well by this, but I’m sure you’ll think otherwise. I’ll skip some boring details. The ones where we eat and pretend to avoid the elephant in the room. I’ll get to the point; it’s the moment my father looks at Tiller in the face and says, “You’re not parenting material. River has no business being at your house with what goes on there.” Everyone has heard the stories of what goes on there, and my father is certainly no exception. He’s been around the business, the riders, he knows.
Tiller doesn’t look at him. “She’s been there for the last three days and been just fine,” he points out coldly, as he pushes around smoked salmon benedict he hasn’t touched.
Harry—my parents cook and I guess you’d call him the butler—appears to our left. “Would anyone like anything more to drink?”
“Vodka,” Tiller answers, his eyes never leaving his plate, the grip on his fork tightening. I take notice in the way his knuckles whiten and the hitch in his breathing.
“My point exactly,” my father adds. “It’s barely eleven in the morning and you’re drinking. Do you really think River needs to be subjected to your lifestyle?”
I level my father a glare. I can’t, no, I won’t sit back while he treats him like this. “Ava and Cullen both drank alcohol.”
My father’s lips thin into a fine line. “On occasion and always in moderation.”
“This is an occasion,” Tiller mumbles under his breath and drapes his arm over the back of my chair. “Of bullshit.”
Setting his napkin on the table, Mitchel clears his throat, finally speaking with reasoning. “I think our main focus here needs to be the well-being of River and where she’s happy.”
Everyone’s eyes shift to River who’s beside Kona in the grass, still eating berries like the rest of the world doesn’t exist. I watch her, trying to decide myself if she’s happy with me and if she acted the same way with Ava and Cullen. I think back to the anniversary party my parents had weeks before their death, on this very terrace.
My memory of the day is clear and so vivid it gives me tears remembering what a wonderful mother Ava had been. I think about the way River refused to wear shoes that day so Ava brought her barefoot and smiling, dirt on her face and her nails painted black. They let her be wild and free and express herself, even if it meant she went a day without brushing her hair or wore the same dress for a week. Okay, maybe they wouldn’t have allowed that, but they chose me because they knew I’d let her. If Alexandra had her way, or my mother, they would never have allowed that. Not in a million years.
Looking at River now, her hair a mess in the wind, barefoot again and berry juice stains all over her dress and lips, I wouldn’t want her any other way.
My stare moves to Tiller, slouched, his chest rising and falling quicker than usual, his hands flipping his lighter around in his hand. Though his stance gives off the vibe he doesn’t care, his motions, his breathing, it’s all an indication he does.
The woman at the table, the one who introduced herself as Laurie from Department of Social Service, speaks up. “It’s in the best interest of the child to be with her mother and father, and when that can’t happen, we want to grant the parents’ wishes.”
“I am her biological father,” Tiller barks, finally making eye-contact with something other than his plate. “I’ll take a paternity test to prove it.”
“We will want to do that,” Laurie says, nodding. “You can stop by the hospital tomorrow morning and we can take care of that.” She looks to me now. “Now I’ve been informed you moved, is that correct?”
I draw in a deep breath, almost too nervous to speak. “Yes, I have a two-bedroom apartment now. I moved. . . uh, well I moved all of River’s things over there.”
Laurie makes a note on the pad of paper in front of her. “No judge is going to take custody away from the granted caregiver unless they feel the well-being of the child is in danger. In a case like this. . .” She pauses, gesturing to my parents, who look less than pleased. “We want to do a thorough investigation into where the child is living and the care being given to her. Now will she be living with you, Amberly, at your apartment full-time?”
Without hesitation, I nod, knowing River doesn’t belong at Tiller’s place. At least not yet, but I’m not going to stop him from seeing her.
The rest of the brunch, Laurie spends talking to River, alone, and then returns to where we’re sitting. “She seems happy, given the loss of her parents so recently, I’m not seeing anything that’s cause for concern,” she notes, to my parents’ dismay. I can tell by the look on their faces, an expression I saw growing up a lot, they’re not happy. How dare someone not side with them.
It’s when we’re leaving, River holding Tiller’s hand, swinging it in the air in front of me, when my mother pulls me aside. “We’re only looking out for River here.”
I step away, distancing myself, and move toward the front door. “No, you’re looking out for you, Mom. If you do this, if you try to take her from me, I will make sure you never see her again. I will move away with her and start a new life far away from you and Alexandra.”
I’m not sure I’d do it, but it’s my warning.
By the look on her face, my threat registers at least.
Proud I’m standing up for myself, I walk away, toward River and Tiller. Watching the two of them holding hands down the driveway, I’m all too aware I didn’t give her the gift of life, and Tiller may not have been a part of the first three years, but tragedy gave us the gift of her. It was up to us to not only honor her parents’ wishes, but their memory too.
River wouldn’t leave Tiller’s side all day. As it turns out, leaving her with him for two days apparently formed an inseparable bond. That leaves us at his house for another night and while I’m nervous about it, it makes me feel better that he kicked everyone but his brothers and Scarlet out of the house for the night.
River’s tucked away in the guest room down the hall, sleeping soundly in a pile of stuffed animals.
Do you see the two people in the bedroom alone? The girl, she’s so nervous she fears her heart is shaking in her chest and the boy, well, he’s certainly not a boy. He’s a man, and he’s smoking a cigarette near the window. If you look close enough, do you notice the subtle tremble to his hands?
It tells a lot about who he is, if you pay attention to the details.
These two people in the room together, they’ve been in love for a lifetime, but neither one of them will say the words.
My body is more than ready for him, but my heart is another story. I’m not sure if I trust my heart with someone like him, but I want to and that’s the only explanation I can give you as to how we ended up in his room together, alone.
His room, it’s bathed in flickering light. Candles. Everywhere. On the nightstand, the dresser, the floor.
“When did you do this?”
“When you were putting River to bed.” Glancing over his shoulder at the glass vases he’d placed candles in, he frowns at the ones that won’t stay lit. “In the movies, they have people who keep those lit. I’m sure of it. I’ve lit that fucker over there three times now.”
We both laugh lightly, his and my nerves relaxing slightly. I knew what would happen when I walked inside this room tonight, but it still didn’t prepare me. I’m nervous. Hesitation and heartache, I can’t explain.
My eyes meet Tiller’s. “What now?”
He steps closer. My breath catches in my throat, fearing what comes next. We’ve been here before, sure, but this is different. This time I know I’m n
ot going to stop him from going further.
“I don’t know.” He teases with a grin, smoke filtering from his nose. “What do you think happens next?”
We both know the answer, but he wants me to say it. With a sudden burst of confidence—a trait I didn’t know I could ever have around someone like him—I square my shoulders and decide to tell him the truth, like he doesn’t already know. “I’m. . . a virgin.”
I feel like an idiot having said it out-loud.
Tiller’s eyes never leave mine. Slowly, he brings the cigarette in his hand to his lips, taking a long drag as he walks around behind me, his chest against my back. “Why do you want it to be me?” His smoky breath tickles, lips brushing my ear as he puts the cigarette out next to him.
Why do I want it to be him? Because he’s Tiller, and he’s the only man who’s ever really known me. Why wouldn’t I want him? I mean, look at the guy. You’d be crazy not to. I know his nickname with his brothers. The cherry picker. He’s taken the virginity of many, and I wonder if he’s ever asked this question of them.
My eyes close, my response stammered out like I’m cold. “I’ve always wanted it to be you.”
His hands find residence on my hips. “That’s something you’re sure of?” One palm slides around my front, against my stomach as he draws me back against him.
My breath hitches, but I’m able to get out, “I’m sure.”
“Let me see how sure you are.” He drops his other hand to my leg, fingers skimming up my bare thigh to slip under my dress and touch the center of my damp panties.
I tense. Oh, I’m sure, and he’s about to find out just how sure I am. The moment his finger traces my clit over my panties, desire floods through me and I sigh, sinking back against him.
“Did you know how many times I’ve imagined fucking you?” He slips his fingers beneath my panties, plunging into my wet center. When he strokes my clit and my lashes flutter.
Oh God. . . the things he’s going to do to me.
Heat spreads through my body and he continues by whispering, “Every time I saw you bent over that table at the track, I imagined my cock in your ass.” His finger plunges inside me, his erection settling between the cheeks of my bottom as he rubs himself against me.
Unable to control myself, I arch against him. “Oh God!” My head drops back on his shoulder, his words ravaging my body. Raising my hands up, I wrap them behind my head and into his hair, securing him to me in any way I can.
“You like hearing what you do to me, don’t you?”
I nod.
“I can tell. My fuckin’ fingers are soaked.”
Twisting my head, I breathe into him, “I don’t want anyone but you.”
His lips brush mine, hard and possessive. “Your virgin cunt is mine.”
Oh God, he’s so dirty!
Withdrawing his hand from my panties, he turns his head into mine and brings his fingers to my lips, painting my arousal on them. “Taste how sweet you are.”
I gasp. That can’t be sanitary. . . oh wait, no, it’s fine, right? It’s not like it was my butt. Oh my God, stop thinking. I’m shocked by the bold act, yet incredibly turned on. I never thought I’d like that. Confusion hits me. I’m. . . just as dirty as him!
And another thing, it’s not sweet. But it’s not repulsive either.
With greedy movements, he turns me, removes my dress and never breaks his lips from mine. Satisfied when I’m naked, he eyes my body naked before him, aside from my panties. Dropping his hands to my bottom, he lifts me off my feet. I wrap my legs around his hips. His erection presses into my center and I fight the urge to squirm against it.
He carries me to his bed, laying me across his ninja turtle sheets. And then he stares at me, as if he’s just won the competition and he’s admiring his trophy.
With a smirk, he removes his shirt and drops his shorts. I gulp. Literally. From the expression on his face, hair falling in his eyes, the ink splayed across his body, it hits me how intimidating he really is. Believe it or not, this isn’t the first time I’ve seen him naked, but it’s the first in a while.
Nerves suffocate me, and I find it hard to draw in steady breaths. Heat licks my neck and I know if I saw myself in a mirror right now, it’d look something similar to an allergic reaction with the way my neck is probably beet red.
Reaching forward, Tiller twirls a strand of purple around his finger. “I’ve waited a long fucking time for this.” His words have my heart thudding hard against my breast bone and I count the beats, anything to take my mind off what’s about to happen and that I’ve basically been holding out on this day for nine years with him. I want to slow time down and remember everything he says and does, but then again, when I think about the pain, I want to get it over with.
Dragging me to the edge of the bed, he drops to his knees before me. He’s between my legs when our eyes catch. His are guarded, nervous, maybe even cold. Mine are open, willing, believing this means far more than it probably does. That’s the difference between the two of us. Where I see this as a connection, he probably sees it as finally getting laid. There’s nothing wrong with that, it’s the genetic differences between men and women, but that’s a story for another day.
Tiller spreads my knees wider, his gaze lingers on my bare center. He doesn’t say anything. Parting my lips, he glides his fingers over my swollen clit. In true Tiller fashion, he doesn’t wait for permission before he inserts one finger, then another. “Your pussy is begging for my cock.” He watches me intently when he asks, “Ready for me to make ya bleed?”
No. Yes. Shit. What did I get myself into?
“You’re so dirty!”
He laughs.
Part of me wants to slap my hand over his mouth and beg him to stop talking, but then again, I want his words. I still crave the darker side of him and that’s what makes this special. I’m getting the gnarly boy I’ve always loved. And though I don’t say anything, I want to shout, “Fuck me!” at the top of my lungs but that wouldn’t be me and he’d probably just laugh at me.
Lit by flickering warm light, his face dips between my legs and his tongue massages my clit. “I love that you’re untouched by anyone but me.”
You made sure of it.
With his words, I go a little crazy, moving my hips, basically humping his face like I did in the bathroom. Within minutes, a mind-numbing orgasm explodes through my body from my center to my toes. I feel it everywhere.
I think I black out from the sensations alone because the next thing I know, Tiller’s hovering over me, one hand flat on the mattress beside my head. His other one is inside his boxers, stroking his erection. “Goddamn. That was so fuckin’ hot.” My pulse skips, eyes drifting as he shoves his boxers down, freeing himself.
Oh God, I’m staring at Tiller’s penis. No. . . cock. Cock’s the right word here. Strong, powerful—beautiful. That’s what he is. Believe or not, I’ve never seen it this close up.
“It’s pretty.”
Wrong. Thing. To. Say.
He jerks his eyes to mine. “What the fuck did you just say?”
I’ve upset him.
Sitting up, I tentatively reach out to touch him, my fingers wrapping around his hardness, stroking from base to tip and waiting for his reaction.
“Don’t tease me.” A groan falls from his lips, his head falling forward as he thrusts into my hand. Okay, good. He’s forgotten. Because I’ve seen porn before, and I think he might find this sexy and distract him even further from my lack of expertise in penis, or penises? Is it plural? Whatever. I decide I’m going to put him in my mouth. Or try to at least.
I stare at the drop of clear like fluid collection on the tip. While Tiller and I have been sexual with one another, and done everything under the sun but intercourse, I’ve never put him in my mouth or never tasted his cum. I’m curious. I want to know what he tastes like so badly.
Bringing my fingertips to the head, I swipe my finger over the tip. With a grin, I push my hand toward him li
ke I’m going to smear it on his lips like he did to me.
He catches my hand, glaring. “Don’t even think about it.”
Giggling, I retract my hand and suck on my finger. While it’s not horrible, I can see why girls don’t swallow. It’s not like I want a mouth full of that. I’d probably choke and gag and he’d love it because he seems to like when I gag.
“Don’t just fuckin’ lick it. Suck it like you mean it. You know you want to. Suck it like you did the bottle,” he says, as if he knew what I was thinking. “Show me how bad you want me.”
I lick him once again and it’s salty. So unlike what I thought it’d taste like. Desire floods through me at the noises he makes, the sharp intake of his breath. Without hesitation, I take him all the way in.
And then I gag. Hot huh?
Tiller throws his head back and groans, like I’ve done something incredibly sexy. While I’m glad he’s distracted from my previous remark, why would me gagging turn him on? I don’t stop. I lower my mouth, all the way down. He grabs a fistful of my hair and moves my head the way he wants it, with the right speed. Though it’s not forceful, it’s just enough pressure to let me know I’m not going anywhere until he tells me so.
“Fuck yeah. Just like that.” He guides me in an up and down motion. “You look hot with my cock in your mouth.”
Unsure still, I peek up at him for encouragement and that seems to be exactly what he wants to see. He groans and shoves my head down. He hits the back of my throat and I gag again. I’m not sure I like that, but I don’t stop him because while it’s not all that enjoyable having something the size of an eggplant in your mouth, it’s strangely erotic seeing him react like this.
My insides tingle in anticipation of what it will finally feel like having him inside me. I’ve imagined it, only him, for so long, I’m scared it won’t live up to what it’s really like. But then I realize that’s crazy. It’s Tiller. It’ll be everything I’ve ever imagined, and then some.
