Overview: River
I was driven by a singular goal— to feel freedom whip across my face while ruling the Kings with my best friend.
Things changed when he got himself killed.
He ruined everything by flying off the handle, reaching too far, too fast, without a care for what his death would do to those left behind.
For years I’ve been the one taking on his responsibilities, protecting his wife and son, feeling the strain of my lost freedom.
Yes, things changed, but some things stayed the same.
I still owe him, and I still battle with the guilt and shame of loving another man’s woman.
My best friend’s wife.
Regina
In all my years with the Crescent Kings, no one, not one freaking man, has enticed me more than my late husband. No one… but his best friend, River.
One is dead, and the other wouldn’t touch me if his life depended on it.
He looks at me like I’m a seductress bringing forth his damnation.
There are moments, though, when I catch his gaze and see something I haven’t seen in years. I see his own unfulfilled desire.
Touch me, I beg silently and wait with bated breath for the day he will finally let go of his guilt.
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| River's Guilt by Monique Orgeron Book |
River's Guilt by Monique Orgeron Book Read Online Chapter One
REGINA
“Yea, baby… Oh God, right there.”
“You want me to pound that ass?”
“Uh-huh… yeah. Pound that ass!”
What the ever-loving fuck!
With eyes shut tight, my palm slams onto my forehead with a hefty slap right as Sally’s voice once again ricochets off the wall between rooms. I can’t believe how stupid I was to crawl into this bed last night. I should have stayed with Griffin. I couldn’t take it, though. The nonstop video games with their blaring raids and attacks. Jesus, I can only handle the sounds of machine guns and bombs for so long. And let's not forget raid nights! I mean, come on. Even after I made him put on his headset, the flickering lights were still enough to drive a saint to drink. And let’s face it, I am no saint.
The older my boy gets, the worse it gets. I know, I know, I should monitor what he’s playing. Hell, I should definitely restrict him from at least half those games, but I have an entire club of men fighting against me. When it comes to what Griffin wants, those bastards turn on me quicker than shit and tell me to leave him be. "It'll be fine," they say. Fine for who? Cause it sure in the hell won't win me any mother of the year awards. It aggravates me so much, but what can I do? Seems annoying video games with firearms are a rite of passage in this crew. Heaven forbid I try to shelter him from anything. Honestly, they should be the least of my worries. Before long, it won't be just video games; it will be real life.
“You like that?” Bones’s grunts bring my attention right back to the wall.
Ugh! You’ve got to be kidding me.
Jesus. I roll my eyes, hating that Griffin and I have to be here again so soon after being set free from the club’s lockdown. All I know is that my father-in-law, the president of the Crescent Kings, ordered me to show up bright and early Sunday morning with my son and our bags in tow. Then he left to go handle some club business in Texas.
This particular Sunday, we were having a family day barbecue. But showing up so damn early meant being greeted by the mess from Friday and Saturday night’s festivities. I started cleaning right away and never stopped. As things wound down, I had finally had enough and gave up when the ones sticking around for the night continued making a damn mess. It left me grumpy, and I just wanted to crash early. However, Griffin was nowhere ready to turn those damn games off, so I moved into the nearest vacant room.
Turns out, I ended up right next to the prospect’s room. What was I thinking? I should’ve known better. I knew Sally and he had been fucking, but Jesus, come on. Last night was bad enough waiting for them to wear each other out, but I sure didn’t expect to wake up to them doing it all over again.
The moans continue as I slide lower in bed, covering my head with the sheet and pretending it will somehow block out all the sounds. Of course, it doesn’t, and I end up kicking my feet, whining like a little kid, “Whyyy?” More high-pitched yelps ring out, and Sally’s broken “Oh… oh… oh…!” comes through the wall. Grasping the end of the sheet, I pull it down just enough to curiously peek out at the shaking wall and end up staring as she finishes with, “Yes… yes… YES!” My eyes grow wider as more grunts follow with explicit swear words from the prospect promising something to the good Lord above.
Huh. I didn’t know Bones had a religious… well, bone, in his body or that… that he was capable of whatever he’s doing to my girl in there. I mean, everyone knows she’s loud, but damn.
When silence ensues, hope ignites that they’re finally finished. I lower the sheet, tucking it under my arms, and get comfortable. Maybe now I can get a little shuteye before I need to start the day. But instead of my eyes closing, my gaze moves to the ceiling tiles, watching the fan blades go round and round as rays from the morning sun peek through the blinds. They cast interesting shadows against the tiles, causing an effect of flashing beams, becoming more hypnotic the more I stare. My mind wanders behind the wall to the two of them laying there, skin on skin, sweating bodies glued to each other as they pant from pure exhaustion. Something which I miss greatly—the feeling of your man’s body weight smothering you with pressure and pronounced heat.
My eyes drift closed while I run a finger across the bare part of my chest exposed by my dead husband’s old wifebeater. I fall into a dream-like state, remembering Aiden’s intense gaze on me. Envisioning him enjoying the pleasure he always brought out in me. Just one of a thousand things I miss about him.
My body lights up, buzzing with need. Tingles erupt all over my skin as I picture Aiden grinding against me with his muscular arms on each side of my head. The need within grows as I twist, feeling the dampness between my legs the memories brought forth. My twisting action causes one of my breasts to pop out from the wide armhole. It’s not surprising; the damn thing does it all the time. It’s a thin tank that hangs on my petite frame because it once belonged to a larger-than-life man. An erect nipple stands straight out, begging to be touched. I bite my lip, torn yet oh-so-eager to feel just a fraction of what Sally just felt. I linger for a second, debating, worried about the time and my responsibilities. But doubt will only waste more precious minutes. Private time is not a luxury I can afford to squander, especially not here.
Relaxing, I slide my fingers over the slope of my breast, tracing the hardened nipple. The sensation elicits a flicker of heat down to my core as I squeeze my thighs together, seeking friction. Needing more, I turn onto my back, letting my legs fall open as my hand slowly drifts over my stomach. My muscles flex, and the delicious ache builds. Pushing my hand under my thong, I find my clit already swollen in anticipation. Circling the nub, the ache urges me to finish what’s been started, and I slowly push a finger inside. I glide in and out, my eyes squeezing tighter and tighter as my body bucks, needing so much more. I slide another finger through my slickness, knowing this won’t take long. It never does. I’m an easily detonated bomb these days. That’s how deprived I am.
A single moan slips from my lips, a forcefully quiet one at that. I’m very careful. Lord knows I’ve had years of practice keeping my masturbating down to nothing more than a simple hush—nothing like the way Sally is, or how I used to be… with the right man.
My momentum is lost for a moment with that thought. I’ve grown resentful of how careful I always have to be. How I’m now treated with kid gloves in a clubhouse full of ill repute. And give me a break, but please… I’m tired of being made to feel like I should be ashamed for still having any kind of sexual appetite.
“Fuck them,” I mumble and forget all about those assholes. Eagerness takes over, and way too fast, my back arches, and I’m right on the verge of an explosion. “Right there. I’m so close,” I whisper, moving my fingers in and out faster as my palm applies the perfect amount of pressure to my clit. My other hand grips the sheets as I bite down hard, trying to keep my pleasure from being overheard. “Mmmm… yeah…”
“What the fuck are you doing?!”
“What the—” I yell. Popping up startled, with my heart stammering as the door angrily bounces off the wall right into… oh God. Right into River, standing in the doorway demanding an answer. One I’m finding very hard to verbalize. Not because it’s a rhetorical question, but because he’s here, looking like that, with sandy blond hair swooping over his forehead, square jawline, and… Shit. No, I cannot do this!
Once I regain my composure and focus, I realize the most startling element about this whole situation is the way his blue eyes are staring back at me. The seconds stretch out, and a low gasp falls from my lips because the look on his face is one I haven’t seen in a very long time. A look filled with his own unfulfilled desire, made more evident by his gaze drifting down to my exposed breast. My breath hitches as the air in the room turns suffocating. Any and all rational thought is thrown out the window. I know I should scream, cover myself, something, but I can’t. Hell, as his eyes meet mine again, I can’t even breathe. There’s an unmistakable stifling heat rising between us, threatening to break every barrier we’ve built. I want them to be broken, though. It’s why I leave those piercing blue eyes to soak all of him in. Every damn inch of him. He’s shirtless, with all his tats exposed down to his fastened jeans riding low on his hips. His belt ends dangle from the loops in a Lord have mercy kind of way. But where I linger is not on that particular belt, it’s on the view of the holy grail of all Adonis belts. The perfectly sculpted V carved into his toned body.
My mouth waters, and my body feels… it feels alive, frenzied, with a thousand tingles prickling across my skin.
Touch me. God, just touch me.
Hope ignites, and I return to his stony face. Watching, desiring, soaking in his hunger until his eyes drop again. This time something is different. Something shifts, and his face quickly morphs, fixated on the tank I’m wearing. Dread fills me as I sit here shamefully, knowing recognition has set in. All fire is instantly extinguished as if someone just poured cold water over my body.
“Cover your fucking self. Griff is up and waiting for you,” he snarls, his voice filled with anger and probably… hate. It takes nothing for him to turn from me and storm out, letting the door slam behind him, leaving me so frustrated I’m pounding my fists against the mattress.
God, I hate that man! And God, how I want him too.
“Ugh!” I scream at the door, fully pissed the fuck off. One, I’m left here hanging, with no orgasm and no way of recapturing the mood the asshole interrupted. And two, in all the years with the Crescent Kings, no one, not one freaking man, has enticed me more than my late husband. No one… but his best friend, River.
One is dead, and the other wouldn’t touch me if his life depended on it.
“Great!” I shout, flinging the sheet away and swinging my legs off the bed. Sitting rigidly with my hands planted on my knees, I try to calm down before I go out there and make a fool of myself more than I already have. Looking pathetic, vying for a man’s attention, for that man’s attention… hell no!
It’s bad enough Margaret caught on. She immediately sensed my one-sided attraction. Yeah, my father-in-law’s girlfriend is a major pain in the ass when it comes to sticking her nose in places it doesn’t belong. One look and she could tell there was something there, at least for me. What she doesn’t understand is it is definitely not there for him. My shoulders sag, and I think back to a time when the overpowering attraction was mutual between us.
Maybe… I look toward the door, punishing myself, picturing the way he just gazed at me.
“Nope. No, Regina. There is no maybe. It was all in your head.”
Slowly, I peer down at the tank, and my eyes water. “Aiden.” I wistfully whisper.
It’s ridiculous to wear this old thing, but it helps with the all too frequent lonely nights. I grab the hem of the shirt and lift, pulling the damn thing off and bringing it straight to my nose, inhaling. It doesn’t even smell like him anymore.
Jesus, my life is truly fucking sad and pathetic. “But here I go. Just another freaking day.”
Decisions were made, and my life is not mine anymore. My needs and wants don’t matter. All that does is my son’s. So here I will remain, trying to be the best mother I can be for him and for the future of the club.
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