by SR Jones
He slowly raises the bottle, and pours the ice-cold liquid right over my center. It streams down my folds and then he uses his other hand to part my lips and pour it right over my most sensitive spot.
I yelp at the sensation, and then I’m moaning as he bends and sucks the whole nub into his mouth, gentle but firm, working me with his tongue.
The clank of the bottle being placed on the tile barely penetrates my brain as Stamatis works me over more thoroughly than he ever has before.
Then he pulls away a little and looks at me, his chin wet, his eyes darker than usual. He lifts his hand to my mouth and traces my lips with his fingers. “Open up,” he says.
I do, and he pushes his fingers inside. “Make them nice and wet.”
I do as he says, and when he’s satisfied, he takes them out of my mouth and pushes them roughly inside me. “Oh, God,” I cry out.
“You love being fucked by my hand, don’t you,” he says, and withdraws two glistening fingers, holding them up to the light as if to prove his point.
“I love being fucked by you any way you do it,” I pant.
“Good because I’m going to fuck you until you scream my name. You want punishment, but I want you to drown in pleasure not guilt or pain.”
Then he positions himself above me, moves my thigh until he has me where he wants me, and surges inside me.
I can’t hold him like I normally do, so I cling on to the table leg tightly, and hold on for dear life, as Stamatis hammers into me.
He hits a spot deep inside on each stroke, and it’s so intense that soon sounds are coming out of me that I’ve never made before. The sounds of our love making fill the room, and they’re filthy, animalistic, wet and guttural. Stamatis reaches between us and pinches gently on my nub, then taps it in a fast rhythm, and I lose it. I cry out so loudly I know the men outside can hear, but I can’t stop myself. I come, clenching hard around him, my neck straining as my back arches.
Stamatis follows me over the edge moments later, and then he collapses to the side of me and lazily strokes a hand up and down my still overly-sensitized body.
“Here.” He undoes the silk at my wrists and rubs them, and then he moves down my body, kissing everywhere as he goes until he gets to my feet. Then he unties the cord from his sweatpants.
“How did you know it would be so much more intense with me tied up?” I ask him.
“I’ve done shit before, Rhea,” he says.
I get an almost visceral anger at the idea of him with another woman, which I shake off as ridiculous because I have no right.
“Never like this, though,” he adds, softening the blow.
“So you’ve never actually tied someone up before?” I ask.
“Not what I mean, beautiful.” He’s back up my body now, kissing my shoulder as he talks. “I mean, it’s never felt like this. So … intense.”
“Really?”
“By a long shot. I don’t know what it is about you, but you drive me fucking crazy.”
“Good because you drive me crazy too,” I admit.
“When I’m not with you, I’m thinking about you,” he says. “When I am with you, I’m thinking about how long we have and when I can see you next.”
I’m nervous of what I say next because he might be saying this stuff, but I know he doesn’t want anything deep, isn’t in the place for that. “I might be able to come over here more often now I’m staying at Damen and Maya’s because I have a built-in babysitter with Star. She won’t object to more time with Gus.”
“Good,” he says simply and pulls me in for a kiss.
I don’t know what this is or where I stand, and I think I’m starting to lose my heart a little to this man.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Rhea
It’s been over a month since I moved onto Damen and Maya’s property, and Gus has blossomed. He loves it here. He’s made friends with all the scary Spetsnaz soldiers, who I find terrifying, but who he loves to spend time with. They all spoil him rotten and treat him like the precious little person he is.
Star and I have spent some quality time together, and I do believe even Markos is warming to me a little. I’ve been having double therapy, seeing my doctor twice a week for intense sessions, to deal with what she calls my myriad issues fitting back into normal society. All in all, life is good, but one thing hangs over it, a slight pall, and that is Stamatis.
He’s filling the house he’s bought with amazing furniture, courtesy of Maya and the woman she’s hired. They are working together on it, and Maya is loving it. He’s also getting on with his divorce proceedings, and is often at the house. We see one another a few times a week. A lunch here, a coffee there, a night spent in debauchery added into the mix.
The trouble is I’m falling for him. Hard. I think I love him, but I know I’m a mess. Can I even decide something of such magnitude in this state? It’s hard to know if it’s real or some sort of reaction to my time in the cult. So I don’t speak up. I meet him for coffee and smile and chat, but all the time, I want to tell him my feelings. I want to tell him that I love the way he always opens a door for me, or pulls a chair back. The way he notices what I’m wearing and compliments me on it. The way he expertly takes me apart underneath him then puts me back together again after when he holds me close. I want to tell him I think we’re two peas in a pod, two damaged souls with flawed pasts, and secrets we might never fully share.
I do none of these things. Instead, I smile, and I chat, and I try to be interesting and exciting because my biggest fear, other than anything happening to each of my children, is Stamatis growing bored of me. Discarding me. I’m a mistress, nothing more. It hurts.
Today, I’m working on finishing a top because I’ve been sewing like a demon to keep my mind busy. I’m using the scarf that Stamatis tied me up with as a tie for the top. It’s made from various samples of silk bought in thrift stores and haberdasheries and now sewn together. It hangs down to a point at the front and back, higher at the sides, and ties around the neck at the back in a halter neck style. It’s a far cry from the plain dresses I used to make, and I love it. Not that I’d dare wear it, but I am going to ask Star to try it on. I’m making it to fit her. And Maya has kindly let me use her dining room table because it’s large, and I can work easily at it.
The girls won’t be back for another hour, which gives me enough time to finish the top. I get lost in the work, loving the soothing monotonous nature of it.
Needle and thread and silk became my world as I let my worries go for a while. The sound of voices in the hallway makes me start because I’ve not heard the door.
“Hey, Mother. What are you doing?” Star asks as she enters the large dining room.
“Hello, darling, did you have a nice outing?”
“Yes,” she says, and her eyes dart to the almost finished top. “That’s pretty. Really pretty.”
“I made it for you, darling.” I smile up at her. “I just need to finish off one of the hems, and then I’d love for you to try it on.”
“It is beautiful,” Maya says as she comes to stand by Star. “Wow, I didn’t know you were so talented.”
“Oh, I’m not. This is just something I did back in the commune, and I find it relaxing.” I bite my lip as I put in place the finishing touches. “Okay, there, done.” I take the top and hold it up in triumph. “Would you try it on?”
“Yes,” Star says with a grin. “Love to.”
She takes the top and slips into the hallway, and only a minute or so and she’s back.
“You were quick.”
“Used the downstairs toilet,” she says.
“Oh, my God.” Maya is staring at Star, her mouth open dramatically.
Oh, no. What’s wrong with it? I think it looks nice, but what do I know? I’ve been wearing sacks for years. Feeling stupid, I want to slink out of the room.
“It. Is. Stunning.” Maya walks up to Star and touches the hem of the top. “Gorgeous.”
I suck in a b
reath. So she doesn’t hate it; quite the opposite.
She turns to me with shining eyes. “Will you make me one? I’ll pay you.”
“You don’t have to pay me. You’ve been more than kind. I’d like to make you one.”
“Thank you.” She claps her hands together. Then she grabs my measuring tape from the table, passes it to me, and holds her arms out to the side. “Measure me up, baby.”
I laugh, but I take her measurements. I’ll need to go thrift shopping for more material, but I enjoy that, so it’s no hardship.
“What are you doing later? We’re watching a movie in the den,” Maya says. “You can come watch with us.”
“I’d love to, but I have an appointment with a lawyer.”
“Oh?” Star turns to me.
“Yes, can we talk for a minute?”
She nods, and Maya says, “I’ll leave you guys alone to chat. Shout me when you want to watch the movie, babe.” She smiles at Star, and then she’s gone.
“That girl has a heart of gold,” I say.
Star nods. “She really does. Maya is a lot softer than you’d think, but she’s smart too. People underestimate her all the time. What’s wrong, Mom, why the lawyer?”
I don’t know how to sugarcoat it, so I go with the truth. “I don’t think your father and I are legally married, and I need to find out because it might matter going forward. I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what? I don’t mind if you are or aren’t. So far as I’m concerned, unless Father comes to his senses, then he’s not someone I want to see.”
I smile at her. “Me too, Star. Problem is, you’re an adult; you can make that choice. Gus isn’t, and your father is demanding visitation rights, but I’m scared he’s going to try to take Gus if he gets access. You know he’s involved with the remaining members of the cult? It frightens me what they might be planning. What if they’re going to start up a new commune somewhere? No one would know where, and if your father is getting regular access to Gus, it terrifies me what he might do.”
“You do know, don’t you, Mom, that you’re dating one of the most powerful men in Greece? That I’m with one of his henchmen? Hell, send Markos and Alesso around to see Daddy Dearest, and I don’t think he’ll be coming back for more.”
I stare at her in shock. Since when did my daughter become so hardened?
“I don’t want to involve Stamatis. This is not his fight, and we’re not … he’s not… We aren’t involved, Star.”
She laughs. “Yes, you are. You might not accept it, and he might not even know it, being a man, but you are. You two have such googly eyes for each other it’s sickening.”
“Googly eyes?” I giggle at that. “No, we don’t.”
“Yes, you do, you’re all…” She widens her eyes and blinks rapidly as she makes a silly face.
“Star,” I gently hit her upper arm as we both laugh, and then it hits me. This is a wonderful moment between us, one I might not have thought possible a few months ago.
She suddenly hugs me, and it takes my breath away. I close my eyes and let her warmth and smell envelop me. “Use Stamatis to deal with Dad, trust me,” she whispers.
Pulling back, she smiles at me, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “Love the top, Mom. Thank you. And you better get on with making Maya’s. You know what she’s like.”
I laugh. “Oh, yes.”
After our chat, I feel better about seeing the lawyer. I have enough money in my account from Stamatis to hire a good one, and so far, I’ve done very little work for it, which we need to discuss. I just keep putting it off. I’ve been plagued by a deepening inertia the past couple of weeks. It seems as if there is so much I need to do to get my life back on track it’s overwhelming. It’s easier to not even try. This though, Gus, he’s too important to simply leave to chance, and so I’m forcing myself to get legal advice to protect him.
I can’t do what Star says. It scares me, the idea of getting Stamatis and Markos involved in my fight, because they might get hurt or hurt Papan. I don’t particularly care anything for my ex anymore, but he is Gus’ father, so I don’t want him seriously injured.
No, the legal way is the way to deal with this, I tell myself.
**
The lawyer’s office is cool, and I’m a hot sweaty mess since I rode the bus here. The woman sitting across from me is so smartly dressed and put together, it’s intimidating.
“After looking into your case, Rhea,” she says. “I think we can try to go for no contact between Papan and your son. So long as we can prove he’s still involved with the cult, then I’m hopeful a judge will agree letting him have unsupervised access to Gus is a bad idea. I’m warning you, though, they will most likely go with supervised visitation, or even visitation but in a public place.”
“That’s okay,” I say quickly, “I don’t want to stop Gus from seeing his father ever, but I do want to protect him from Papan being able to take him away.”
“We should be able to enforce something along those lines. I have mothers who meet the father once a week somewhere very public, say the big McDonald’s in Syntagma Square. Others have supervised visitation where a member of the child protection team attends at all times. We’ll be able to fix something along those lines, I’m sure of it.”
I thank her again profusely and then leave her office to go and pick up my precious boy.
Later that day, I’m outside the summer school Gus is attending two days a week; it’s still hotter than Hades and uncomfortable. I pull my damp shirt from my body and fan the sticky material.
“You’re looking well,” the voice startles me, and I put a hand to my chest reflexively, trying to soothe my racing heart.
I turn to the man who isn’t my husband under the eyes of the law. “What are you doing here, Papan?”
“I want to see Gus,” he says. “I’ve called, and I’ve texted, and you keep putting me off.”
“I’m sorting it out.” I keep my voice down, all too aware of the other mothers watching me. “I’m doing it properly, legally, okay?”
“You’ve been to see a lawyer? Behind my back.”
Oh, no. His voice is rising. I look into his eyes, desperately searching for that young boy I fell in love with, but not finding him. Instead I only see a hard, unyielding man, still convinced all the terrible things he did were right. “Listen, why don’t you come over at the weekend?”
“Where?”
“To the house I’m staying in.”
“No way. You’re staying with those thugs that Star is involved with now, aren’t you?”
I have to admit, I wanted him to come so I could hopefully show him what he’d be up against if he harmed Gus, without actively threatening him. I should tell Star. She’d get Markos to help sort this out. I can’t, though. It is wrong to get my daughter to threaten her father, even if she’s not doing it directly. She might hate him now, but in years to come, I’m hoping he can see the error of his ways, and they can have a relationship of sorts.
I know what it is like to be estranged from your parents. It’s hard, and it messes you up inside. I don’t want that for Gus or Star.
“You can come over. No one will do or say anything to you,” I say. “You’re Gus’ father; you have rights.”
“Stop calling him Gus for the sake of the gods.”
I sigh. “Listen, don’t make a scene now in front of him and upset him. Please. Okay. Listen, I’ll meet you this Saturday outside McDonald’s in the square at twelve. Okay?” I recall what my lawyer said about some parents having to arrange public meetings in safe places. That’s safe, right? A busy area, and I’m panicking. I really don’t want him to upset Gus by being angry and nasty. He narrows his eyes, and I try again, “I promise I will be there. Now, please go before Gus comes out, so he doesn’t see us arguing.”
“If you’re not there, I’m coming after you. I only want to see my son.” He grabs my chin hard in his fingers, and it’s then I see him.
A man behind Papan
, across the street, who is watching us, and whose whole body goes on alert when Papan touches me.
Luckily, Papan lets go and stalks away from me. I watch the man slink back into the shadows, but I know… Stamatis has someone following me.
It means this Saturday Gus and I need to sneak out of the compound, which won’t be easy … unless.
I take out my phone and dial the number for the home of Gus’ best friend. His mother answers on the fourth ring. “Hi, Gabriella,” I say.
“Hey, Rhea. How’s things?”
“Oh, you know. I’m slowly getting sorted. Listen, I know this is a bit last minute, but could you have Gus over at yours on Friday night? I’ll pick him up around eleven the next morning, but I need to … erm do some work Friday night, and it would be a big help.”
“Of course,” she says. “Bring him around six, and we can have pizza for dinner.”
“You’re a star. I owe you.”
I hang up as Gus comes down the steps, carried along by a tide of children. He’s smiling and talking to a young girl, and it warms my heart to see him making more friends in the outside world.
“Mom,” he cries out as he sees me and runs over. “Guess what? We’re going to a petting zoo next week, and there are baby goats.”
He says the word goats on a high, squeaky breath. I hug him to me and kiss the top of his head. “That sounds exciting.”
“Can we have a goat?”
“Erm, I don’t think so, Gus, but maybe a rabbit one day. Would you like that?”
“Or a puppy?” He eyes me, and I have to laugh at his expression. Not able to face the bus, I hail a taxi, and as it drives away, I glance behind us to see the big man across the street peel out of the shadows and rush to his car. Yep, definitely being followed. I need to confront Stamatis about this underhand behavior. I’m honestly grateful he did get one of his men to follow me because if he hadn’t and things had gone downhill today, I would have been in trouble.
I’m not sure taking Gus to meet Papan is a good idea, but the man is his father. It’s not right to totally alienate them from one another, and McDonald’s is a public place. I keep telling myself my lawyer told me other separated women organize meets there between fathers and their children.
