by Pamela Ann
That did it. I pulled out of Stassy’s cunt, ripped the condom off, then brought Cara to her knees and began to fuck her mouth as hard as her throat allowed me. I came hard into her throat, not holding back.
“Fuck!” I growled with unbounded hedonism. The high Cara brought me was incomparable.
Slowly, I brought her up and kissed her senseless. Mixed juices battled on our tongues, but I didn’t care at this point. I just wanted to consume her, her damn soul. I wanted to breathe her in and never let her go.
I heaved as I broke off kiss. My lips brushed against her ear before I whispered into it, “If you ever betray me again, I’ll just cut you off. You won’t ever hear from me, not in this lifetime.” I delivered it in a cold, harsh tone.
I loved her … I had always fucking loved her, but the woman needed to be tamed. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Like I said, if she wasn’t wholeheartedly mine, then she wasn’t mine at all. Simple as that.
Chapter Twenty-One
Cara
If you ever betray me again, I’ll just cut you off. You won’t ever hear from me, not in this lifetime.
Those words still rung in my ears. The warning went straight to my heart. There wouldn’t be a chance to beg or an opportunity to negotiate terms. River Ellis would cut his losses; axe me out of his life as if I never existed. It would give me a taste of how I had left him, without a word of goodbye, only leaving a massive void in my heart. I knew, too. He was capable of such vile cruelty.
Those two arduous days were tough, but that last night cemented something between us, and somehow, I was terrified our bond would break the second I left him to his own devices.
Leaving River after that heady, intoxicating night was a hardship. I thought the experience would drive a wider wedge between us, but it actually went the opposite. The man showed me just how much he loved me after he asked Stassy to leave us, not with words, but with his kisses and his sole attention.
Due to that extra day off, I had to make up for the lost time, and I never had the chance to fly out to see him again before he went back home to continue touring.
Our communication wasn’t what I had expected it to be, but he was responding. Phone calls were nil, and the text messages weren’t on a daily basis. More like every other day. The stark contrast from before was vast, but I remained hopeful, believing this was a phase we had to endure before things got better, and that once I was back Stateside, we would continue working on our issues. I would free my calendar to be with him just to prove how serious and dedicated I was to make amends.
Everything I did on the island, I thought of River, ensuring my actions wouldn’t flag his anger.
It had been five weeks since Stockholm, and Juan and I were in a middle of a silent feud. After getting back on the island, I had completely shut him out, barely responding when he tried to breach the subject of Barcelona. At first, I felt rotten for treating him like a disease, but it couldn’t be helped. I had to apply drastic measures. The man almost had me, and I just couldn’t risk being trapped in that position ever again.
The sweet guy transformed into a little asshat, making sarcasm his main weapon. There were moments when I was tempted to strike back and chew him out. Then I thought better of it, believing that by not retaliating, it would simmer his resentment towards me, which in turn, would be beneficial for me in the long run.
The past weeks flew by without a touch or a kiss from Juan. Well, apart from filming that was. There hadn’t been any intimacy between us once the camera stopped rolling. A wise move on my part, because it turned out to be fruitful.
Tomorrow was our last day filming, and I couldn’t wait to just go home and work on my personal life. River expected me to arrive early Monday morning in Los Angeles, but he would be in Washington. We hadn’t discussed what would happen once I was back home; he was always too busy ‘figuring things out’ with me. We were worlds apart, and not just in the physical sense. I was getting antsy.
Now back in my hotel room after the entire production got together for a goodbye celebratory dinner harrowing disappointment filled me when I saw I had no messages from River. The entire time during the party, Juan had barely directed me a glance, too busy flirting with this one hot Spanish lady. I was a little irritated that he had turned into such a major douchebag but, oh well, it was for the best.
I shook my head as immense frustration filled me. On my balcony, I paced as I tried to rationalize River’s emotional withdrawal after giving me the impression that we were on the mend. Why doesn’t he reach out anymore? It always had to be me initiating contact. Did he have a change of heart? God, I hoped not.
A cold shiver ran through me, recoiling from the horrid thought that sprouted from deep-rooted fear. He wouldn’t do that, would he? I had been so good. Surely that counted for something?
“What am I waiting for?” I gripped my phone so hard my hand shook from pressure. “He won’t ever call …” Five weeks was a long time not to hear his voice. So again, what was I waiting for?
“Oh, fuck it,” I muttered under my breath as I dialed his number.
Ring…
It kept ringing. My heart hammered against my chest so hard that I felt faint. And on the fourth ring, before the doomed automated speech of the voicemail lady would shatter what little hope I had left in me, River picked up.
“Mmm … lo?”
His sleepy voice barely calmed my pitter-pattering heart.
“Sorry, did I wake you?” I asked breathlessly, eyes boring into the glowing moon in the sky, anxiously waiting for him to respond.
“Cara?” he grumbled as if he wasn’t sure who his caller was.
“Yeah, it’s me. Cara Quinn.” Why the fuck did I just do that? You idiot. Embarrassment filled me as I mouthed my own stupidity.
“Hi, Cara Quinn,” he sexily rasped out, sending delicious tingles all over my body. There was amusement in his voice, obviously teasing me.
I immediately felt lighter, lifting all the worries away, replaced by this profound feeling, overwhelming my being, realizing the depth of sadness from missing him.
“Am I bothering you? Are you alone?”
“Is that your way of asking if I have a woman sleeping next to me?” His voice was calm and nonchalant, giving nothing away.
“Maybe,” I murmured as dread took hold of me. The lightness I felt seconds ago took an immediate nosedive.
“Hmm,” he responded, again, giving nothing away in that flat, lifeless tone. “You called; is everything okay, Cara?”
I don’t know. You tell me. I was beginning to feel that nothing was right anymore. Did I read too much into our last night in Stockholm? It seemed that way.
“I thought I could say hi. I haven’t spoken to you in forever, and I’m going home in a few days, so …” So, what? Does he care what I do next? “Well, I figured, you know … if you’d want me to join you while you finish touring?”
“Don’t you want to stay in LA, rest, and be with your friends?”
What kind of answer was that? Answering a question with a question didn’t give me the warm fuzzies.
“Yeah, but I’d rather be with you. That was the plan before … I mean, before things went—”
“Downhill?” he provided with an edge to his voice.
“Yes.” I shut my eyes and took a deep breath. He wasn’t making this easy. Far from it. His indifference grated on my bruised heart. “Is it possible, River? Can I fly out to where you are and join you? Even for a little while?”
He blew out a breath, contemplating. “I’d thought, you know, I’ll just fly out to see you when you’re back in town. It’s better that way.”
Better for whom, precisely?
My heart squeezed tightly.
“How often would that be?”
There was a shuffle of sheets as if he was making himself a comfortable spot. I could easily picture him piling a pillow against the headboard, pensive, pondering how to deal with this mess of a relations
hip.
“I can’t say for sure… I guess when I get a chance or what not.”
What not…
Well, that’s as clear as it gets with him, then. Fuck. He hadn’t forgiven me. When would it happen? In a year? In two? When? What if that day never arrived? What would I do then?
“I understand where you’re coming from, I do, but I just want to also say I’m not happy about how this is going. I miss you like crazy. There hasn’t been a day I haven’t thought of you. So, can you please work with me here?”
“I need more time, Cara.”
Damn him. Damn it all to hell.
“Five weeks wasn’t long enough?”
“No,” he stonily said. “It’s not long enough. But, like I said, I’ll see you when I get a chance, Cara.”
He made me sound so desperate and needy. Nevertheless, what room did I have to complain?
“Okay, if that’s what you need, then … okay.” Patience was key. Did I even have enough to last for however long this grueling punishment lasted?
“When are you done filming?” he asked, surprising me, as if he was now interested in my life, when moments ago, he had sounded bored out of his mind talking to me.
Curling a strand of hair behind my ear, I pressed my lips together before I retreated back indoors and sat at the foot of the bed, downcast. “Tomorrow. We should be done by noon, I think. We just have to reshoot the last scene, then it’s a wrap.”
“So … how’s Juan Torres doing?” he inquired, as if he’s innocently wondering what the weather was like here.
He couldn’t help it; he just had to go there. Was he purposely trying to sabotage this call? Fuck, I was getting pissed off now.
“I don’t know, River. Why don’t you ask him yourself, hmm?”
“Huh.”
Silence ensued. For a whole damn minute.
When he came back on, he sounded less hostile. “So … you’re arriving late Monday night?”
I paused, hesitant. River’s mercurial manner made me distrust where this question was going. So far, all he had done was try to put me in place, baiting for a fight. So yes, I was hesitant to respond.
“I am,” I whispered.
“So, what will you be doing in the next two days if you’re done filming at noon tomorrow and your flight doesn’t leave until Monday?”
He was piecing my responses, as if to see if I was lying or not. Why bother? With the way he was treating me, one would think I lied all the damn time. No, I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. I had been truthful, even if it pained me to admit my faults. Still, I came forth, knowing he deserved the truth. And I didn’t intend to stop being forthcoming out of spite.
“I’ve been invited to a party tomorrow night. I already promised I’d go—Juana’s, Juan’s little sister. I gave her my word weeks ago. She’s expecting me, and I don’t plan on changing my mind.”
“Getting chummy with the family, I see,” he remarked bitingly.
He was purposely goading me.
“It’s not like that at all.” My insides boiled, ready to combust. “Stop twisting things just to make me look and feel more bad than I already do. You’re being unfair!”
“I’m unfair?” he mockingly reiterated.
I swiftly stood up and began to pace the room, irritated beyond comprehension. “You know you are! I’m sorry, I am, but how long do I have to be in the doghouse until you’re done punishing me?”
“Who the fuck knows! You think I like feeling shitty? Did you fucking expect that five weeks is enough to fucking get over what you’ve done? You fucking broke every-fucking-thing we have!” he screeched, making me flinch in return.
No, I didn’t expect him to get over it. What I didn’t anticipate was his indifference. We parted on such a high note. Before leaving the hotel for the airport, he had to pull me back in his arms several times because he couldn’t get enough of kissing me. What the hell happened since Sweden?
“Like I said, Cara, if you betray me again, you’re as good as dead to me,” he stated in a hair-raising manner that left me breathless.
“River—”
“You up?” Willa’s chirpy voice filtered in the background. “Oh, my gosh! How many times do I have to walk in on you naked!” she squealed, giggling with enthusiasm.
“I’m on a call. I’ll be out in a bit,” River crassly addressed her. “And for the love of God, woman, stop barging in my bedroom knowing I sleep bare!”
Really. This was just the last thing I needed to hear.
My body shook so badly I actually dropped my phone on the carpeted floor. Hot tears came next. Willa and a naked River. Was something going on? He wouldn’t hurt me by sleeping with her, surely? He couldn’t be that callous. He just couldn’t be …
“Cara?”
I faintly heard him, so I reluctantly plucked the phone off the ground. He was breaking my heart. Slowly but surely, it broke.
Drastically wiping my tears away, I sniffed before placing the phone against my ear. “Yeah?” I tried to level my voice but failed miserably. It came out unsteady with a choking sound, as if I was withholding myself from crying.
“Okay,” he said, brushing off the incident with Willa by not providing an apology or an explanation. “Is there anything else you want to talk to me about?”
Everything.
Nothing.
“No, I think I’ve said what needed to be said.” My tears were unstoppable. I silently sobbed as I shook my head, resenting him for his appalling, unapologetic demeanor.
There was a stretch of a pause before he finally spoke again. “Okay, well, have a safe trip, then.”
“I will.”
“Bye, Cara.”
I didn’t even care to respond; I just ended the call. All strength drained out of my body as my knees buckled, unceremoniously dropping to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. I broke down, heaving, wailing, shaking, and howling with the wretched ache that seized me, painfully grieving for the man that had his foot out the door, biding his time until he finally walked away from me as he locked the door behind him, never looking back.
Chapter Twenty-Two
It was around six in the evening when I landed in Barcelona. Juana came to pick me up. She apparently rented a villa for the weekend. It was where her, her friends, and I would be staying until I left on Monday. The arrangement suited me fine. Last night’s disastrous call had been plaguing my mind, so seeing Juana was a nice distraction.
Juana’s first party was a family affair as she had previously warned me during a call last week. So, after the airport, we drove directly to their family apartment where Juan and I stayed before. Her friends apparently would be arriving soon, but her grandmother, parents, and a few of their family friends were already inside.
I felt like death, yet I somehow managed to muster up enough enthusiasm as I was being introduced to Juana’s cheerful and overeager family and friends. They were welcoming and quite interested in my life’s story. And since my past was bleak and downright depressing, I lied through my teeth and painted a happy life back home.
As the time went on, with more guests arriving, they apologized and dissipated slowly, welcoming the new arrivals. I didn’t mind it. It gave me a short reprieve to gather my bearings..
“More wine?” Salvador, Juan and Juana’s father, kindly poured more wine into my already half-filled glass.
I softly murmured my thanks. I noted that when you were asked if you want more wine, it didn’t necessarily mean they were asking you if you wanted more or not. It was just a courtesy telling you that you were having more.
Salvador seemed like one of those men who carefully chose his words. The kind that liked to observe and only speak when there was a purpose. His keen pale green eyes steadfastly watched me, trying to read what kind of a person I was as he situated himself across the couch, appearing casual and relaxed.
Years of being an orphan heightened my instincts. I became good at reading people. My radar had never let me
down.
“Minorca is a beautiful island; did you enjoy your time there?” he inquired, breaking the ice.
Thoughtfully glancing at him, I took a moment and realized that Salvador was harmless, and that this wasn’t one of those instances where a foster parent decided you were going to be a problem child. He was most likely curious about my relationship with his son.
“It is. Minorca’s beautiful, and I did enjoy my time. Well, with the little time I had, I loved very much.” I began to relax when he beamed at me, showing a toothy smile.
“Beautiful, yes, but Antonia and I won’t be watching the movie.” He chuckled in earnest. “Heart attack in our old age is common, and I’m afraid my wife wouldn’t survive it.” He paused, amused. “But me?” He shifted his hand in the air, weighing the possibility. “Más o menos.” More or less.
I laughed along with him before the grandmother named Celia, and Antonia, Salvador’s wife, joined in on the conversation, voicing out fake outrage that Juan was driving their family crazy with his choices of movies lately. They were too much of a conservative to watch nudity. And I readily agreed. I sure as heck didn’t want them to see me in all my glory.
And right on cue, the prodigal son appeared. Alone. But he didn’t directly come towards us; he sought his sister first and gave her a kiss on the cheek.
“If you and River Ellis are ever in Madrid or Barcelona, you are more than welcome to say with us,” Antonia kindly said before giving me a warm, knowing smile. “My children like you. They’ll be glad to have you come and visit when you can get away from Hollywood.”
“How long have you been with him, cariña?” Celia interjected, engrossed in my personal life. I didn’t doubt Juana had provided them everything she knew about River and I. She was one of many teenagers who went gaga for River.
This would be an easy lie, but River’s unfeeling voice echoed in my head, as did Willa’s squealing voice. If he was having sex with her, I wouldn’t know. If it was with another woman, I wouldn’t know either, unless the media reports it. Basing from his scathing tone towards me, there was no hope left. He was going to breakup with me. It wasn’t a matter of if but when. I could feel it deep into my bones; I just knew it was over.