#rip river song you would have been so interesting in the hands of a competent writer 😞

[escapetomerlegaritaville]

she's a great character unfortunately she's written by Steven Moffat

[anavoliselenu]

Creighton chapter 23

I slide out and thrust again. Over and over and over again, almost mindlessly. With one hand braced on the shaking table and the other wrapped around her hip, I use my thumb to help her stroke her clit, adding more pressure and sending her into spirals of pleasure as orgasm after orgasm streak through her. I’ve lost count when she finally grabs my hand with hers and stills it. Which is probably a good thing, because my balls are so high and tight, they’re going to blow whether I want them to or not. When I pump one last time, her inner muscles clench me so hard I can barely move. Then I let go, emptying myself inside her before twining her legs around me and lifting her up to my chest. Her head slumps against my shoulder, and we’ve taken two steps toward the stairs when the table groans. And collapses. Selena’s soft giggle is one of the sweetest sounds I’ve ever heard in my life, and one I’ll never get enough of. Against her temple, I say, “No more running, Selena.” She pulls back and presses a kiss to my lips. “I promise.” Other than my mother and my sister, I’ve never told a woman that I loved her. Yes, I know I’ve been married twice before Selena, and that makes me one cold bastard. But I don’t say things I don’t mean, and now that I’ve said the words to Selena, it means a hell of a lot more than if I said them before. Because before, they would have been a lie. I’ve never felt like this in my life. It’s all her. Now I just have to get her to believe that I mean it. Instinctively, I know my only choice is to show her. Spending the day in bed may not seem like the most romantic way to get a woman to believe you’re in love with her, but Selena and I haven’t had time to just be. We’ve constantly been on the move since day one, and I want some time to just be. So that’s exactly what we’re going to do. She looks at me like I’ve lost my mind when I tell her and settle us into her bed. “We’re going to what?” “We’re going to leave our cell phones downstairs, we’re not answering the door, and unless the house is burning down around us, we’re not leaving this room except to get food. And I might just feed you by hand.” She raises an eyebrow. “Are you serious? What about your empire?” “It’ll keep running without me.” Selena doesn’t need to know that there are matters that undoubtedly require my attention, but right now, I don’t care. I hire competent people for this very reason, and Cannon practically inhabits the business side of my brain. He knows what to do. Even knowing that, before I wouldn’t have dreamed of letting a day go by without at least checking in. But looking back now, it makes me realize all the more that I never had anything else in my life that was important enough to take me away from it all. With Selena, I’ve dropped everything—more than once—to chase after her, and I’ll do it again if I have to. My hope is that she’ll never run again, however. Before we leave this town, she will understand that what I told her is true: she is the most important thing in my life. For no one else would I pull my focus this far from the business that I’ve built from nothing. But if I can’t take time to enjoy what matters most to me, how successful am I, really? I need to tell her about my acquisition of Homegrown, but I’d rather wait for another time. Although if anything will show her just how serious I am about her happiness, that might be it. Now she’ll have the freedom to take the reins of her own career, and not be subject to the whims of the jackass record execs who don’t have her best interests anywhere near the top of their priority lists. But there’s time to have that discussion later. Right now, I want to learn about the side of Selena I’ve never been privy to before. I want to know everything about her. Not one detail is too small. “Tell me about what it was like to grow up here.” I’ve got her tucked against me with her head resting on my chest, and she freezes as soon as I ask my question. I look down, my chin brushing her forehead. “Selena, I’ve seen the town; it’s not a bad place. There’s no reason to be ashamed.” Her hand, whether she’s aware of it or not, curls into my side and pulls me closer. She says nothing. “Selena?” She mumbles something I can’t make out. “What was that?” “You haven’t seen where I really grew up, though.” “Is it far from here?” She starts to pull away, but I tighten my grip around her, not willing to let her separate from me. “No. I want to hold you.” I’m pretty sure it’s the first time I’ve ever said those words to a woman, but it’s also totally fucking true. I suspect that whatever Selena’s about to say is something I don’t really want to hear, because it’s something that bothers her a lot. And if it bothers her, then it’s going to bother me. “I told you about my mama. We bounced from trailer to trailer in Rusty Meadows, which is a couple miles from here, across the river. It’s called Happy Meadows, but no one actually calls it that.”

“Was it an okay place?” She shrugs against me. “The people were generally pretty nice, with the exception of the times the guy she’d shacked us up with would toss us out. Sometimes I’d come home from school and find my clothes in the dirt because Mama did something to piss the guy off. Usually messing around with someone else and getting ready to jump ship. She called it lining up her next opportunity. Everyone else called it being a cheating whore. The thing that sucks worst about living in a small town is that everyone assumed I was just like her.” I recall an offhand comment she made a couple of weeks ago about some boy offering her money for a blow job. “But you set them straight.” “I just became an introvert. I didn’t talk to anyone. Didn’t date boys; didn’t talk to boys. I didn’t want to be like my mama. Didn’t even have a boyfriend until I was a senior in high school. But she was gone for years by then. People started to forget about her, at least a little.” “Where’d she go?” “She hitched her wagon to a man who could afford to keep her in style. He bought her a Cadillac Eldorado and they took off. I didn’t see her again until Country Dreams happened, and now she just shows up when she needs money, which I don’t really have.” “Until you married me and I sent her off on a fully paid vacation, and made myself into an easy target.” Selena sighs. “But you made her go away, and that’s all I wanted.” I press a kiss to her forehead. “Are you going to take me to Rusty Meadows while we’re here?” I’m not even really sure why I ask the question. Selena shifts, and I think she’s shaking her head. “No. It’s not something I like to remember. This house,” she jerks her chin toward the ceiling, “is the only home in this town I want to remember.” “Fair enough. And you were how old when you moved in?” “Fourteen. Best thing that ever happened to me. Gran was friends with Ben and he gave me a job, which led to me singing karaoke and falling in love with being onstage, and the rest is history and would make a great country song.” She pauses. “Speaking of which, I should totally write that one. I need a few more for the big-box exclusive tracks before I get back to Nashville.” She settles down on my chest again, and I can feel the tension drain out of her. Which is somewhat surprising, because now the subject of geography has come up. It’s something that’s been weighing on my mind, but it’s not impossible. It’ll just take some finesse. I lean up on my elbow so I can see her face. “When do you need to be back in Nashville this time?” “I need to be in the studio two weeks from tomorrow to cut the tracks, and I need to hammer the last few songs out with Vale once I’ve got ideas and practice them with the band. So probably . . . five or six days? Maybe sooner?” She glances up at me. “Is that going to be a problem?” “No. We’ll figure it out. You know there are recording studios in Manhattan, right?” Her expression falls. “I . . . I just don’t feel comfortable there. It’s intimidating. Everyone’s so focused and intense, and I feel like I’m just wandering around, hoping to hell I don’t get lost. I don’t mind feeling small in the grand scheme of things, but something about New York just makes me feel . . . inadequate. I know it’s your place, and I’m not saying I won’t go back and try to learn to like it, but I don’t think I’m ever going to like it enough to want to live there permanently.” I can’t say that her words don’t disappoint me, because they do. I hate that she doesn’t feel comfortable in the city that I love, but the fact that she’s willing to try is a good sign. I’m not going to force her into something that clearly makes her so uneasy, but still, I think there’s hope. I press another kiss to her temple. “Next time, I’ll show you a New Yorker’s New York. The city has enough to offer that I think even you’ll find something to enjoy. And I know it doesn’t help to tell you that you belong there just as much as anyone else, but you do. Maybe more than anyone else, because you’re mine. So if you’re willing to give it another chance, I promise I’ll give the entire city to you on a platter.” “Okay,” she whispers. I pull her against me tighter. “Thank you.” She snuggles against me, and I can’t help but realize that this is the first time I’ve ever actually cuddled with a woman. It’s nice. But I have a feeling it’s only nice because it’s Selena. She’s turned my entire fucking world upside down, and it’s the best goddamn thing that has ever happened to me.

My self-congratulatory thoughts falter when she asks, “Will you tell me about what it was like for you growing up? Since we’re doing the sharing thing?” My heart stutters as pangs of loss and grief stab through it. I swallow against the pain of old wounds never fully healed. Because do you ever fully recover from the loss of your parents? Especially when they’re ripped from your life without warning? I pause for the length of a few breaths before finally speaking. “Up until the age of ten, my childhood was simple. My parents were dedicated to serving others. They were missionaries. When I was six, we moved to Papua New Guinea. We lived there for four years. I don’t remember a lot before that, to be honest. Everything there was so vivid and alive. Simple. Amazing. I ran wild with the other missionaries’ kids, and the mothers took turns homeschooling us. It was basically the best childhood a kid could ask for. My sister was born there, about a year before . . . everything changed.” Selena’s palm begins stroking up and down my chest, and I wonder if she knows she’s soothing me. It’s a very wifely gesture, and it gives me a shot of steadiness to continue. I haven’t told this story in years, not since I told Cannon. Like I did then, I just have to recite the facts or I’ll never get through it. “Sometimes I feel bad that Greer was too young to remember any of those good days, but then again, she also doesn’t remember any of the bad. Including the day trip I took with another missionary family, because my best friend James and I were dead set on seeing the tree kangaroos. His dad promised us that he’d find them for us, and he did. We came back late in the evening to the village, and found that fifteen people were slaughtered by a vigilante mob, including my parents, who tried to stop them. The mob was hunting down people accused of witchcraft. It seems insane in this day and age, like something out of the Salem witch trials, but it still happens there, even today.” “Oh my God,” Selena said softly. “How did I not know about this? The press—how do they not—?” She left her question hanging, but I knew what she was asking. “My uncle paid a lot of money early on to cover it up. It wasn’t hard. News doesn’t travel very quickly or efficiently from Papua New Guinea. I certainly don’t tell people, and my aunt and uncle didn’t want the notoriety. They were put out enough having to become responsible for two children they never wanted. They were the guardians my parents named in their will. I overheard James’s father telling his mother that my uncle asked if the church could find someone else to take us.” “Oh my God.” My face twists into a grimace. “It’s always good to know that you’re not wanted.” Something wet hits my chest, and I glance down. Tears have gathered at the corners of Selena’s eyes, and a few more splash onto my skin. I catch them on my thumbs. “Sweetheart, don’t cry. It’s not worth it. Not at all.” “But you were only ten. And—” “And you were only fourteen. If you think about it, we’re not all that different. You got dropped off on your gran’s front porch, and I got shipped off to boarding school. I’m just happy as hell that you had a grandmother who loved you, and my aunt fell in love with my little sister. Greer became the daughter she never knew she wanted.” Selena’s smile is wobbly and utterly adorable, so I pull her up my chest so I can reach her lips with mine. “I don’t want you to cry for me. Neither of us can change our pasts, but somehow, all of these things happened in a way that made it possible for our paths to cross. No tears are necessary; I’ve got you in my arms, and I’ve never been happier in my life than I am right now.” She blinks, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. “Damn it, Justin. You can’t say things like that if you don’t want me to cry.” I frown. “Why?” “Because it’s not fair. And if you’re trying to make sure I have no chance of holding on to any piece of my heart where you’re concerned, you’re doing a damn good job of that too.” My frown smooths into a small smile. “Under any other circumstances, I’d say I don’t fight fair to get what I want. But when it comes to this, I want you to give it to me of your own free will. I’m not taking it by strategy, power play, or seduction. I want it because you want me to have it. Freely given. Earned. And that will be the most valuable thing I’ve ever received.” Her tears fall freely, dotting my face as she leans to kiss me. “Shut up and kiss me before I drown you with happy tears.” So I do. And then we do something else I’ve never done before. We make love. Dress warm, he said. We’re going to be outside for a while. That was it; no other explanation. And then he left the room.

The last two days have been surreal. So surreal that I’m going to give myself a legit bruise if I pinch myself one more time to make sure I’m not dreaming. Yesterday we spent the entire day in bed, just like Justin said we were going to do. I lost track of the number of orgasms I had. My lady parts are actually sore today. Justin gave me a dark look when I winced as we got out of bed this morning. “I need to take more care with you. No sex today. You need to recover.” “That’s not fair!” His dark look turned smoldering. “Doesn’t mean I can’t fuck that sassy little mouth of yours.” And that’s all it took for my previously mentioned lady parts to perk up and claim they were in perfect working order. I tried to tempt him later, but he didn’t take the bait. I needed to get some songwriting done this morning, considering I have a deadline bearing down on me, so we retreated to our separate corners. Justin set up his laptop out in Gran’s back room—the one that was added on to the house about sixty years prior, but never properly insulated. It was drafty, but he didn’t seem to mind. I offered to share the repaired kitchen table with him, but he declined, saying he didn’t want to interfere with my concentration because he had calls to make. So instead, I spent most of the morning watching him through the window in the wall that separated the kitchen from the back room addition. Even in this little house in Kentucky, he looked all business. He stood and paced and shoved his fingers through his hair as he talked with his hands. It was fascinating to see him in full empire-running mode. I was unable to concentrate on my own task, so I dropped my pencil and slipped into the back room and dropped to my knees in front of him, just as he lowered himself into an aging La-Z-Boy recliner. His eyes dropped to mine questioningly, but he didn’t stop me as I ran my palms up his thighs and reached for the button of his jeans. He mouthed what are you doing, but I ignored him and unbuttoned and unzipped them. He didn’t object overly much to my actions because he lifted his ass and let me tug his jeans down—and God love the man—because he nearly always went commando. I can’t be the only woman in the world to think that is sexy. He continued his call, but his answers shortened to single words—yes, no, fine—as I wrapped my hands around the base and lowered my head to run my tongue from root to tip before going in whole hog and deep throating him for the win. I was in a go-big-or-go-home mood. His choked-out, “Fuck. No, excuse me. Sorry. Wasn’t talking to you,” had me humming a little giggle around his cock. After he muttered, “Please continue,” Justin’s hand found my hair and guided my movements. He slid into my mouth with long, sure strokes, and I took his cock all the way to the back of my throat with each thrust. Ending the call with an abrupt and clipped, “We’ll finish this later,” he dropped the phone to the floor. It reminded me of the time I touched myself in front of him while he was on the phone in our hotel room back in San Antonio. As soon as he dropped the phone, Justin cupped both my cheeks and tilted my face up at him. The look on his face was adoring. “Best decision I ever made, Selena. Best decision I ever fucking made was making sure that missed connection went viral.” Tears stung my eyes, and not because of the cock hitting the back of my throat. “I’m gonna come, sweetheart. You ready to swallow me down?” I nodded, ready to take anything this man wanted to give me. Everything he wanted to give me. Whoever says giving head can’t be a romantic experience clearly isn’t doing it right. I shiver at the memory. I don’t know when things changed between us, exactly, but I know everything has. Hell, I don’t even know when I started thinking of him as Justin instead of Justin, but I do. What’s more, I trust him. And even bigger than that? I’m falling in love with him. I should be terrified, but instead, I’m excited. Being back in Gran’s house, it’s easy to acknowledge that my future before Country Dreams was just a big yawning emptiness. And then after Country Dreams, it became some crazy, scary ride, one I could only do my best to hold on to and not get bucked off and land on my rear in the dirt like a bull rider who didn’t make it the full eight. Now, though, the future lies before me like an amazing adventure I can’t wait to experience with this man at my side. When I finish getting ready and step out of the bathroom, I expect to find Justin waiting in the bedroom, but instead I find a gift-wrapped package on the bed. What the hell? I study the box. It’s about ten inches long, approximately the length of Justin’s own package—not that I’m comparing—and eight inches wide and three inches tall. It’s wrapped in simple brown craft paper and a turquoise ribbon. I reach for it and pull my hand back. Seriously, what the hell? “Open it.” I jump at Justin’s voice coming from the doorway behind me, and spin to look at him. “What’s this for?” “It’s for you.” “But why?”

“Because.” He crosses his arms, and I can’t help but drool a little over how his shoulders and chest look in the fitted cable-knit sweater he’s wearing. The man shouldn’t be allowed to go out in public looking so damn sexy. I need to cover him in Carhartt so the local ladies don’t know what kind of exotic species of man they’re missing out on. They’d mob him, and I’d have to cut a bitch. “Open it,” he says. There’s something ridiculously endearing about the simple wrapping. I carefully open the paper, because, not surprisingly, I don’t get a lot of gifts. I want to cherish this one. This isn’t like the racks of designer clothes he had some personal shopper pick out for me. No, this seems much more special. It could be an owner’s manual to the freaking rental car, and you wouldn’t be able to wipe the smile off my face. I fold open the paper and still. Keeper of Beautiful Songs It’s a leather journal, and the words are tooled in simple script on the front. I blink back tears, lifting a hand to my mouth. “Oh my God. It’s . . . it’s beautiful.” Justin crosses the room to stand beside me. “There was a woman at the grocery store selling them in a little stall in the front.” I squeeze my eyes shut, because I can picture Delores Maynard and her arthritic hands that can still take leatherworking tools and turn simple cowhide into beautiful pieces of art. The grocery store lets her set up her little stall so she can supplement her Social Security income and the tiny pension her husband left after he died in a mine collapse forty-odd years ago. “You bought this yesterday?” “Yes. That’s why it took me a little longer than I planned. I knew you had to have it.” “Yesterday, when you still should’ve been pissed that I left New York—again—and you’d found me the night before hammered and out with another guy and—” Justin holds up a hand to interrupt. “Yesterday, when I was trying to figure out how to show my wife that she means everything to me so I don’t fuck this up and lose her for good.” That little piece of my heart I was holding on to? No longer mine. I carefully lay the journal on the bed and stand to face him. “When did things change? When did this go from being a whim to being . . . everything?” Justin lifts a hand and brushes a flyaway strand of hair out of my face. “I know I should have an answer for this that’s epically romantic, but I don’t think I can pinpoint the exact moment. I knew you were meant to be mine from that first night, but you’re right—it was nothing but a gut feeling. I wanted you. Knew I had to have you. Wasn’t going to stop until I found you.” When I smile up at him, he smiles back, but his expression sobers. “Coming home to find you gone that first time made it clear to me that I had something to lose. Watching you onstage that first night in San Antonio made me realize that you weren’t only a unique woman, but an extremely talented one that I would always have to share with the world, because it wouldn’t be fair for me to keep you all to myself. I thought I would struggle with that, but instead, it’s made me insanely proud to know that you’re mine.” He pauses, jaw tensing. “The second time I came home to find you gone, I knew my heart had walked out the door. I don’t ever want to feel like that again, Selena, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure it never happens again.” His words stir up so many different emotions. I’m still trying to process them all as he pulls me out of the bedroom and down the stairs. Surveying my outfit, he asks, “Are you sure you’re going to be warm enough?” “If you’d tell me what we’re doing, it’d be easier for me to decide.” Justin grabs a flyer off the kitchen counter and holds it out to me. GOLD HAVEN WINTERFEST My eyes dart up to his. “Are you serious? You really want to go to this?” “I have it on good authority from Delores Maynard that it’s a good time. Not to be missed. Plus, she’d like to see you again. She was hoping for an autograph.” The fact that he chatted with the old woman while she made the journal makes me melt a little more. I lean up and press a kiss to his lips. “Okay. Winterfest it is.” A thought flashes through my brain. “But I forgot something. I’ll be right back, and we can head out.” I’m about to pull out of the A&W parking lot, and I’m still amazed that we drove an hour to eat burgers and drink root-beer floats in the car. I look sideways at Selena, who’s grinning in the passenger seat. “I still can’t believe you’d drive this far for fast food.”

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