24. Bella

24

BELLA

M y entire body shakes as Marcus strokes my flesh. His cock pulses inside me, but he's so hard still, and I've learned how long he can go before he's done.

When I have my legs under my control again, he lifts me and presses that fat head against my ass. "This okay?"

"Mmm." I nod. "Mmm-hmm."

God, it burns so good as we work him into my ass. Once I'm able to take most of him, which is a bit of a job without lube, he tips me back, grabbing my breasts in both hands to fondle me before he lifts my knees in his hands and places my feet on the table’s edge.

Spreading me wide makes him feel so much bigger, stretching me tight. "Fuck. Just that feels good."

His laughter is a soft rumble in his chest, and we're off to a slow start, lazy thrusts, barely an inch of movement that builds pressure and pleasure instantly.

Marcus kneads my thighs and nuzzles the side of my neck with his beard. "I love how eager you are to please…and be pleased."

My laugh is almost a giggle. "I am eager. I like sex. Especially when it's this good."

He chuckles and runs his hand down my thigh to cup my mound, drawing light circles over my clit. I shudder, clamping down again over his cock in my ass and empty in my core.

I like anal, but I decidedly like it better when I have a cock in my pussy, too.

As if he can read my mind, Marcus slides two fingers into me, giving me exactly what I want.

I grab a hold of his thighs and turn my head. "Is your leg okay?"

"Yes," he grumbles. "The angle takes the weight off. And I had a pretty solid distraction against the pain until you reminded me."

"Oh. Sorry." I wriggle a little over him, nudging him deeper and making us both groan. His thrusts pick up a little, both from his hips and his hand. He's sure to slap his palm against my mound. Pleasure shortens my breath and has me seeking more.

"Fuck, I love the way you move." His free hand slides up to curl around my throat, hold me against him, and let me wiggle. So I do, seeking the new height that will catapult me toward another orgasm.

When his hips start rocketing up into me harder, I lift to peer between my thighs, seeing both the erotic as fuck sight of him fucking me with his cock and fingers and that his injured leg is extended to keep the weight off.

Fine. Good. As long as he isn't hurting himself.

I sink back against him, using the table's edge as leverage, riding those long, hard thrusts with the kind of weight that sinks him deeper into my ass.

Soft moans hiss from my mouth as Marcus whispers sexy little nothings in my ear, designed to send me over the edge, even though I'm sure he's nowhere near done. He simply keeps up the momentum, grunting, and telling me how good I am until I'm free-falling.

Even then, he doesn't stop, and I don't object. I'll take every minute and every inch he's willing to give me. The end, when it finally comes, topples us both over into an abyss of languid nothings, where there is only the softer hum of pleasure dissipating into something sweet and mellow.

A while later, we mutually decide to return. Helping Marcus limp through the thick snow back to the cabin, I can feel the weight of the world pressing on both of us. Each step is a slog, the cold gnawing at our exposed skin, but the cabin's warm glow in the distance keeps us moving. Marcus grumbles with every step, but his complaints are almost comforting—a reminder that he's still got fight left in him.

As we push through the snow, a rustling sound catches my attention. I glance up and freeze. About fifty yards away, a massive grizzly bear stands, her coat a blend of browns and tans that blend seamlessly with the winter landscape. She's not alone. Two cubs playfully tumble in the snow around her, oblivious to the cold.

"Stay still," I whisper, my heart pounding in my chest. Marcus follows my gaze, his grip tightening on my shoulder. For a moment, we're locked in a silent standoff, the bear's eyes meeting ours across the snowy expanse. My heart races, every instinct screaming to run, but I force myself to remain calm. The bear sniffs the air, seemingly uninterested in us, and turns away, leading her cubs deeper into the forest.

We let out a collective breath we didn't know we were holding. "Guess we're not on the menu today," Marcus mutters, a hint of humor in his voice.

I nod, feeling a strange sense of peace wash over me. "Yeah. Just another part of the balance out here."

The cabin finally comes into view. We make it inside, the warmth immediately wrapping around us like a comforting blanket. The smells of roasting vegetables and wine greet us, and I sigh. River and Wyatt are in the living room, deep in conversation about some project they've been tinkering with.

River doesn't notice us enter. He moves purposefully through the living room and heads upstairs, his steps heavy and deliberate. I glance at Marcus, who's already sinking into a chair with a relieved grunt and a curse. Something about River's demeanor worries me, so I decide to follow him. Heart in my mouth, I tread softly on the wooden stairs, each creak feeling like an intrusion on his solitude.

At the top of the stairs, I see River disappear into the children's room. The cabin, primarily a retreat for families, has this charming little space designed just for kids—small beds, colorful drawings on the walls, and a shelf full of toys that promise endless adventures. I peek through the door, the room bathed in the soft glow of a nightlight shaped like a moon.

River sits down heavily on the small toddler's bed, his broad shoulders hunched, hands cradling his head. My heart aches at the sight. I step into the room, the plush carpet muffling my footsteps. "River?" I call softly, my voice barely above a whisper, afraid to startle him.

He doesn't respond immediately, so I move closer and sit down beside him. The bed creaks under our combined weight, but it holds. I reach out, placing a tentative hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay?" I ask, concerned.

River lifts his head slowly, and I can see the strain in his eyes. They're red-rimmed, like he's been holding back tears or battling some inner turmoil. He takes a deep breath, and for a moment, I think he's going to brush off my question with a joke or a dismissive comment. But he doesn't. Instead, he lets out a long sigh, the kind that carries the weight of unspoken burdens.

"It's just…everything," he finally says, his voice rough. "There are moments I don't know how to hold it together."

Honestly, same. I squeeze his shoulder gently, offering silent support. "You don't have to do it alone, you know," I say softly. "The world is easier and prettier when you've got people to rely on."

River shakes his head, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. "Do I deserve said people?"

A pang hits my chest. We sit in silence for a moment, the gentle hum of the heater and the distant crackle of the fireplace downstairs providing a comforting backdrop. I glance around the room. "It's peaceful here," I muse, trying to lighten the mood a bit. "I can see why the kids love this room."

River nods, a hint of a smile returning to his face. "Yeah, it's one of my favorite places too."

I lean back, resting my head against the wall. "You're a good man, River. Don't ever doubt that."

His eyes meet mine, and for a flicker of a second, the tough guy facade melts away, leaving a breathtaking vulnerability in its wake. With a little sigh, I nudge closer, wrapping an arm around his waist. "We've both been through the wringer," I murmur, my voice thick with emotion, "but your past…that was a whole other level of messed up."

He angles his head, a tender smile softening the hard lines of his face. "Hey now," he whispers, his fingers gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. "Don't you dare downplay your own struggles, Bella. I know what you've been through, and you're a goddamn warrior."

Both of us fall quiet for a moment. I'm looking down at my feet, and River is staring at my face. There's no escaping this—I have to tell him. It has to be now. But how do I do it without hurting him?

"So," River begins, steering the conversation in another direction, "how's the novel coming along? Marcus tells me you're writing about an warrior heroine who falls for a mysterious stranger?"

Ah, I have some time. Good. I need it to gather my thoughts before delivering my speech.

By the way, you've got a daughter.

You're a dad.

So, I kind of didn't tell you this before, but would you like to meet Ginny? Just so you know, she's your kid.

Goddammit. Is there no way to make this sound good at all?

"Seriously," he continues, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing in my head, "How do you do it all?"

"Stop, don't do that," I say, giving him a light shove. "I'm not all that."

"But you are." He grins sheepishly. "All that and more. How far along are you in the story?"

I roll my eyes, but I can't suppress the smile that tugs at my lips. "Well, if you must know, my intrepid heroine is currently knee-deep in a conspiracy that involves a shady corporation, a missing scientist, and a whole lot of environmental sabotage."

River leans in, his eyes gleaming with interest. "Sounds juicy. Any steamy love scenes yet?"

I chuckle at that, although my stomach is in knots. "You'll have to wait and see. Some things are best left to the imagination."

Unlike what I'm about to tell him.

He pulls me closer, his arm tightening around my waist. "True," he murmurs, his voice warm against my ear. "But I have a feeling reality is going to be even better than anything you could dream up."

"Do you?" I whisper too, but miserably.

"Yes," he confirms. "After what I've seen…"

A deep breath later, his eyes move to night deepening outside the bedroom window. "I've seen things," he starts, his voice barely above a whisper, "things no one should ever have to see. Children in pain, families torn apart by war. It messes with your head, you know? Makes you question everything."

His eyes are tormented. "There was this one time," he continues, his voice shaking, "we were in this village. We were supposed to secure the area. But it wasn't secure. There were kids everywhere, playing in the streets, just like any other day. But then the shooting started. Chaos erupted. I saw this little girl, couldn't have been more than six or seven. She was holding her brother's hand, trying to run, but they got separated. She was screaming, crying for him."

River's eyes glisten with unshed tears. "I tried to help her, but I couldn't get to her in time. She looked at me, and I could see the fear in her eyes. It's a look I'll never forget. She…she didn't make it. None of them did. The whole village was wiped out."

His voice breaks, and he buries his face in his hands. "I've always hoped to one day be a father," he confesses, his voice muffled, "to give so much joy to a child. I want to make up for all the pain I've seen, to create something beautiful out of all this horror."

My heart aches for him. I reach out, placing a hand on his shoulder, feeling the tension there. "River, I…" I start, but my words fail me. The guilt bubbles up inside me. He looks up, his eyes filled with a mixture of pain and longing. Without thinking, I lean in, my heart pounding in my chest. Our lips meet, and for a moment, the world fades away. The kiss is desperate, filled with unspoken emotions and years of pent-up feelings.

A strangled cry from the doorway breaks the moment. I pull back, my heart racing, and look toward the commotion. My father stands there, his eyes wide with shock, holding Ginny in his arms. The resemblance between her and River is undeniable, and the realization hits me like a freight train.

"Bella." My father's voice is strained, his eyes darting between River and me, and then settling on Ginny. “We came up to see if you guys were still snowed in. It’s not that long of a drive, and Ginny was asking for you. Clearly I should have called first.”

Ginny, her little arms wrapped around my father's neck, looks between us with wide, curious eyes. She doesn't understand what's happening, but her presence, her existence, is enough to do all the talking for all the silence in the room.

The room feels charged with electricity, the air thick with tension. River's eyes lock onto Ginny, and I see a flicker of recognition, of something deeper. My heart feels like it's going to explode from my chest. I glance at River, his expression mirroring the shock and confusion I feel.

My father is rooted to the spot, his voice trembling. "Bella, we need to talk."

But I can't tear my eyes away from Ginny. Her features, so strikingly similar to River's, make it impossible to ignore the truth. River stands up, his movements slow, almost hesitant. He takes a step toward my father, his eyes never leaving Ginny. "Is she…?" River's voice trails off, his question hanging in the air.

I feel a mixture of emotions swirling inside me—shock, confusion, guilt, and a strange, unexpected sense of relief. I get down from the bed and crouch in front of Ginny, taking her small hand in mine, and she looks up at me with those familiar eyes. River steps closer, his gaze softening as he looks at Ginny. "Hi there," he says gently, his voice filled with wonder. "What's your name?"

"Ginny," she replies shyly, clutching her stuffed bunny tighter. "Who are you?"

River looks up at me. There's a lot of things in those eyes, but primarily, there's raw, unfiltered anger.