Page 90

Story: Tiller

I tense. Not because the touch isn’t wanted, but because it’sneeded. I twist, drawing her between my legs. The inner part of my thighs meet the outside of hers, trapping her. I want to fuck her, again, over and over again.
I pull her against me, my intentions clear. I search her eyes waiting for her reaction. Only she gives nothing away. “Do youfeelme?”
Her brow furrows. “What?”
“Do. You. Feel. Me?”
She sighs. “Like your touch? I don’t understand what you’re talking about.” Her eyes drop to between us. “Are you talking about yourpenis? Are you like hard?”
Do you sense the nervousness in her voice? It’s almost entertaining the way she says penis. Now it’s my turn to sigh though. I grip her tighter. “It’s cock, honey. Not a penis. It’s a fucking cock and it was deep inside your wet pussy last night.” I lean in, my harsh breath blowing over her face. “Every movement you make today you’re gonna be reminded that I was there, inside you. Marking you as mine from the inside.”
She doesn’t take me seriously, giggles and tries to wriggle out of my grasp. “There’s something wrong with you.”
“River’s busy,” I mumble, kissing the side of her neck. “Let’s go upstairs.” My hands move lower, from her hips to the swell of her ass. Underneath my T-shirt, she’s wearing a pair of my shorts, folded down to fit her.
“We can’t,” she says, just as breathless. “You have to go get that DNA test done today and I really need to take River back to the apartment.”
“Come with me and I’ll go to the apartment with you.”
She considers it, then smiles, setting the coffee cup she had in her hands down. “You’d want to do that?” Her hands move to my chest, up and over my shoulders to wrap around my neck. If you looked us here, in the kitchen, you’d think we were a couple, wouldn’t you? In some ways, we are, we’ve always been since that day with the flower. In other ways, we’re still worlds apart.
Time slows and becomes meaningless, and I’m trapped in her eyes. She doesn’t say anything, just looks at me. I want in this moment forever. I ruin the moment by being crass as usual. “Not really, but I will if it means later you’ll let me fuck you again.”
Playfully, she slaps at my chest. “Is that all you think about?”
Smiling, I nod, my stomach burning. “Yes, pretty much.”
I’m standing in the middle of my new apartment and it feels something like a tornado struck my small studio apartment and then River’s bedroom and landed our mixed belongings in Pasadena.
Do you notice the man standing in the corner of the room? Having Tiller in the apartment with us is slightly more nerve wracking than I imagined it to be. He doesn’t say anything, his eyes scanning the room. I want to ask what he’s thinking, why he insists on paying for it and where we stand after last night. I still haven’t asked him. We’ve been busy today. After the DNA test, we had lunch, and finally introduced River to her new home. I still need to bring Kona over, but one step at a time.
My mind floods with thoughts I can’t ask and don’t understand myself, let alone how to put them into questions.
Tiller stands next to the windows overlooking the outside garden terrace, his hands in the pockets of his shorts. He looks uncomfortable, his posture rigid, his jaw tight.
River comes down the hall, dragging her blanket. “I like Tiller’s house better. I want to live there.”
Tiller chuckles. “This place is cool too. Less people.”
River drops her blanket to the ground, arms crossed over her chest. “No, it not.” She spots the cake Willa sent over, the one that says “Welcome Home” on it. “I want cake.”
I’m a fan of cake before bed, or pretty much any sweets for that matter, but then I remember we’re supposed to be providing a stable environment for River and not weekly trips to the dentist.
Kneeling, I motion for her to come over to me. She does and sits on my knee. “It’s time for bed, sweets.”
“I’m not tired,” she whines, flopping herself on the floor and then sprawling out like she’s going to do a snow angel on the hardwood floor.
Tiller comes closer and scoops her up in his arms like she’s a princess. “I’ll put her to bed.”
I stand there, stunned, unsure what to make of it. He’s putting her to bed? Even last night, at his house, I put her to bed. I’m kind of jealous he’s going to do it, but also, my heart soars at the idea because do you hear that giggle down the hall when he tickles her belly? She loves him, and she’s only known him a few weeks.
An hour later, I’m putting things away in the kitchen and feel Tiller come up behind me.
“After readingBeauty and the Beastthree times, kid’s asleep,” he tells me leaning into the counter and crossing his arms over his chest, looking proud of himself for accomplishing it. “I’ve never seen someone fight sleep like she does.”
“It takes me hours to get her to sleep at night.” Smiling, I turn around to face him, brushing a piece of stray hair out of my face with my arm. “I don’t know how Ava did it. She always seemed like she had it together at bedtime.”
“She probably drugged her.” His words are meant to hold humor, but it’s his intense eyes that pin me in place. He does this on purpose, knowing it affects me. It pisses me off and turns me on at the same time, and it’s the latter that has me nervous. “I meant to tell you something.”