Second Sets Omnibus

Five - River

“I’m Professor Webber, and welcome!” I sigh, sitting back in my computer chair, and rubbing my sweaty forehead.

The walk to work this morning was peaceful but fucking hot. I’m sure I have swamp ass and swamp pussy at this point. Who knew the sun would grace us with one-hundred-degree weather at nine in the morning? Next time, I’ll look at the bus schedule and catch a ride.

Sleep desperately gnaws at the back of my eyes, begging me to close them and rest just a little longer. Just one more hour. Or maybe five, for good measure. I need more coffee. Like a bucket full or in an IV attached to my arm for the rest of eternity. Maybe a fucking nap. Or, and hear me out, another good romp in the hay. I’m just saying that it could put a rainbow over my day.

I know, I know. You can tell me all day long—River, it’s a bad idea to jump in the sack with a guy who will probably disappear soon. And logically, he’s a dick. With a good, massive cock, I want to take a three-hour tour of pound town. God. I’m pathetic.

I rub a circle over my temple. Maybe I’m too sleep-deprived to think about this. My body aches in the most delicious ways from his brutal thrusts and dominant ways, and I’m aching for more.

Plus, I need something to keep me sane, right? Because this schedule is going to fucking annihilate me. In the best possible way—I hope. It’s all for a good cause. Hurray for furthering my education and expanding my horizons so I can walk off into the sunset with a degree under my belt and far away from here.

Between online classes three days a week, actual classroom time on Wednesdays, and working two jobs split between two shifts daily. I don’t know if I’ll make it to my next birthday. I might keel over before I turn twenty.

Here lies the corpse of River West. Gone too soon after trying to work her ass off.

Yup. That’d do it. Which reminds me… I turn my attention to my computer screen, pretending to listen as he rambles.

The professor, as he insists, we call him, wanders around the front of the classroom with his hands behind his back and a stern look lining his face.

“I’d like to welcome you all. As you know, this is a hybrid class. Half of you are here, and half are taking this class from the confines of your homes or other areas.” My nose twitches when his eyes look through the camera, and I swear he’s looking directly at me.

Yeah, yeah, old man. I’m learning from work. Some of us don’t have the luxury of screwing off while in school. I’ve got my beat-up old laptop propped up on the tall front counter, running on what seems like Windows 8 and half-working earbuds.

This was the only way to attend college full-time and work both jobs. Thank God for Booker’s understanding soul. Usually, I’d be at the bar by now, but on Tuesdays and Thursdays, I now open his used record store so I can attend class in peace. It’s not like anyone comes here anymore. Most people use The Dot to stream their music nowadays, instead of records or CDs. Briefly, records came back, and business boomed, but not anymore. We don't get many walk-ins these days, but we get a good number of online orders from around the world through our website. Thankfully, that keeps this place afloat.

I take out my notebook and pen and take notes on everything he says. He’s apparently a stickler for punctuality, and assignments must be turned in on time: no special treatment—his words, not mine. Again, I swear he looks at me with a disapproving gaze, like he thinks I’ll skip out because I’m at home and not physically there.

Despite his asshole, stuck-up face, I keep going and listen to him go on and on. His voice grates my damn nerves with every word he says, and I kind of want to stab him. But hey, I only have a year of this, and then I’ll move on to the following year, where he’ll hopefully not be.

The bell above the door rings, echoing through the small store.

“Welcome to Dead Records. Look—” I stop short when I meet a familiar pair of icy eyes, filled to the brim with a cocky attitude, possession, and pure sex appeal.

My breath leaves my lungs. Did my rampant thoughts summon the devil himself and his merry band of fuckwits? Probably. This is the luck I’m graced with every day.

“River Blue,” he says in a smooth voice, gliding toward the large wooden counter I’m nestled behind and leaning against it. “How many jobs do you have to hold down in this shit town?” His brows furrow with concern, eyeing me up and down.

I sigh, rubbing my temple, hoping to soothe the damn headache forming. My professor drags on, but the entire band of Whispered Words stands in front of me with an expecting gaze. What did I do to deserve this type of punishment today? Is God punishing me? Again?

“Well, some of us can’t live off mommy and daddy’s money forever. What are you, Kieran? Twenty-one? Have you ever held down a real job?” I snark, barely containing the bitter words on my tongue. His face falls, and his friends snicker as they browse the old records. “Don’t laugh. You assholes are in the same boat.” I wrinkle my nose when their gazes land on me with narrowed eyes, and their mouths gape. Yeah, dickbags, I called you out. Someone has to.

Kieran blows out a breath and swipes a hand down his face. “Yeah, got me there,” he freely admits, shoving his hands into his pocket. “Listen…” he murmurs in a smooth, panty-dropping voice.

Goosebumps scatter across my flesh, raising the hairs on every inch of my body as he advances with predatory intent. A warm, familiar smile spreads across his lips when he rounds the L-shaped counter and invades every inch of my space.

My breath shudders inside my chest when Kieran looms above my seated frame, hovering there and watching me with a keen eye. His gaze falls on my rapid breaths. Every inhale I take; he counts it in his mind. Every little twitch, he eyes with intent. Every inch of my body is aware of his presence, heating under his watchful gaze. Try as I might, I can’t focus on anything but him. Them. All their eyes are on me and invading my bubble.

I stiffen when the faintest touch brushes through the long strands of my brown hair, pushing it to rest over my shoulders and exposing my neck. Shivers run down my spine when his rough fingertips dance across my flesh, taking whatever, he wants, inch by inch.

A large lump lodges in my throat, and reality comes crashing in. A panic-fueled storm rages in my belly, and the bile rises. For so long, I’ve fought off the hazy memories of the worst night of my life, and it’s times like these that make them come back with a vengeance. Kieran’s too close—too touchy. Ants dance across my skin when their unwanted words rush through my mind. My eyes drift across the boys, connecting with Callum’s as his head tilts. Concern etches on his face, and his lips pop open like he’s connecting the dots in his mind. Swallowing hard, I stare at the ground, trying to ground myself and forget the world around me.

“She’s too drunk, just fucking…”

“Just take them off.”

“Fuck yes…”

Their voices haunt my every waking moment. The feel of their phantom fingers working down my shorts and tossing them and my panties aside, leaving me bare for an entire group of strangers to see. No matter how hard I struggled. No matter how many times I drunkenly said no, these strangers took what they wanted and eliminated my choices when I was only fifteen. My only saving grace was the man with dark eyes and tattoos creeping up his neck.

“Shit! What the hell?” Rad whispers with concern. “Jesus!” he croaks, emotions rising in his throat. “Hey? Hey? Are you okay? Something happened, Sweetness. I think you need to go to the hospital. Hey? Can you hear me?” A light tapping on my cheeks forces my eyes to crack open, and I look around.

The moist grass encases my nearly naked and aching body, and when I peek at the man sitting beside me with tears on his cheeks, I immediately recognize him. Ashton Radcliffe. My classmate and Kieran’s—my knight— new best friend.

My ma said I shouldn’t have gone to the party after it was all said and done. She said I was too young for that side of town, and I should have known the Lakeview kids would have done that. But she never understood my reasoning because she was never there.

I wanted a chance to see the boy who had left me behind and glimpse the man he had become. Many nights I wished I had stayed home and forgotten about the boy who handed me a weapon to defend myself and taught me about life.

But what I saw was a stark reminder of why I should have given up on that dream because he was a completely different person, lounging by the pool with his new friends, laughing as girls jumped into the pool naked in front of them. That should have been the first clue I was in way over my head, coming to the party with just one friend.

Even when I tried to gain his attention and say hi, he blew me off and pretended not to know me. Hell, as I’ve gotten older, I don’t think he did. Was I so easily forgettable? Or had I changed so much?

In retaliation and with a broken heart, I took my first, second, third, fourth, and fifth drink of alcohol. Something I swore I’d never do. After seeing its effects on Kieran’s mom and mine, alcohol was never my go-to. Shit, it still isn’t.

I shudder again, trying to tamp the swirling panic roaring in my gut. It’s not those strangers. It’s not the situation. Regardless of that, the memory plays on a loop. The rest of my patience breaks like a damn rubber band snapping.

Beads of sweat break out in a slight sheen, misting my whole body at the feel of his unwanted hands ghosting through my hair. I learned to set my fucking boundaries long ago, and now it’s time to remind them where I stand. Through the years, I’ve reclaimed my body and pleasure, but on my terms.

I abruptly push from my seat, startling everyone. Before he can move, I’m weaving my fingers through his short, dark strands. Yanking his neck to the side, I snarl, standing on my tippy toes to reach his massive height. If I thought he was enormous on stage, standing in front of him is a whole other story. He towers over me with impressive stature and bulky muscles. Probably put on by lugging amps, guitars, and drum sets around. I huff. Now is not the time to think about his sexy body. Now is the time to show him what I think of him touching me without permission—or anyone for that matter. If these guys think they can follow me around and touch me whenever they want, they’ve got another thing coming.

I yank the small pocketknife I never leave home without out of my pocket. Flicking it open, I expose the razor-sharp edge and nudge it straight into his cock through his jeans. His eyes blow wide when the tiny tip of my knife nestles snuggly against his balls in warning.

Yeah. It’s ball-nicking time, Assface. Feel my fucking fury.

His hands go up in the defense, and I pull his hair tighter, making him wince. River West and no sleep do not mix. But sprinkle over-privileged, touchy pricks into the pot? Makes for an unpleasant morning. For all of us, now, apparently.

“Just because we had one mediocre fuck doesn’t give you the right to touch me ever again. Ya hear?” I ask, pulling the strands of his hair tighter in my grip until he answers like a good fucking boy with a nod. Tears collect in my eyes from the fucking anger and fear flowing through my damn veins. I try to shake them off, refusing to let them fall. I’ll be damned if these assholes see me cry, even if it’s not from sadness.

“Whoa,” Rad, the drummer, murmurs in alarm.

As quiet as a damn church mouse, he moves beside me, putting his hands up in a placating manner. A grimace spreads across his face, darting his eyes from the storm brewing behind my eyes and the knife currently two seconds away from plunging into his BFF’s dick. Sometimes I wonder if he remembers the girl he found half naked, discarded behind a shed like a piece of trash or if I’m simply a blemish in his memories. Because I often think of the man who helped dress the disoriented, sobbing girl and thank him daily. Not only did he pick me up at my lowest, but he also took me to the hospital.

I grind my teeth, staring deep into the eyes of my former classmate, Rad. The boy who held me close after…. I shake my head, ridding my brain of those thoughts again.

“Sorry, River,” Rad corrects with a small, understanding smile. “He meant nothing by it. Kieran is a little touchy-feely when he’s all hopelessly obsessed.” Kieran grunts at his friend’s remark but doesn’t refute it. In fact, when I look into his icy eyes, I see the fire brewing, just for me—his River Blue.

“Obsessed? What’re you, my stalker, now?” I say, staring into Kieran’s hooded eyes.

“You kept it,” he breathes, gesturing to the knife nestled against his balls with his eyes, not daring to move a muscle.

“I… I…” My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth as I stare at the name etched into the grip. River Blue.

Butterflies burst to life in my belly, doing somersaults inside me, arousing the beast between my legs. The way he stares at me sends conflicting emotions straight through me. I ache for him to bend me over again and screw me into next week. Hell, even the thrill of his friends watching slickens my panties more, which should disgust me. But it doesn’t. And it proves to me more and more how fucked up I am.

Kieran is bad for my health. Bad boy. Rich prick. Can’t keep his hands to himself. And looking at me like I’m the answer to everything. Lights burst in his eyes when he looks at me, almost begging to grab me tight, kiss the soul from my body, and claim what’s his.

Damn it. I’m spiraling toward poor decisions. Again. I’ve been down a hopeless road, leading to heartbreak and disaster. If I knew what was good for me, I’d cut his balls off and be done with it. But I never know when to quit. It’s my toxic fucking trait.

“I kept it,” I whisper, furrowing my brows at my answer.

My breath leaves when I see the desire swimming within the depths of his eyes at my confession like he has me right where he wants me.

Liquid lust spears straight to my pussy, clenching around nothing when his raging hard-on pokes into my stomach. Even with a fucking knife pointed at his balls. He licks his lips, giving me a tiny head shake, and fear overtakes him. Confirming to me all I need to know about the boy who I literally have by the balls. He likes this.

“Not-not stalking you,” Callum mumbles, stumbling over his words, carefully flipping through the vintage records nestled in their sleeves.

Callum Rose stands with his broad back to me, flexing every time he pulls a sleeve out and reads the back. He hums to himself mostly, bobbing his head. White earbuds poke out from his ears, obscured by blond curls hanging over his ears. A deep blush overtakes his face when he peeks back at me, giving me a soft smile, and returns to his findings with vigor.

“And you just happen to work here,” Asher Montgomery sneers in my direction, standing with his arms folded across his chest. His lip twitches, looking around the store, and sticking his nose in the air.

“I came to apologize,” Kieran murmurs, drawing my attention back to him with the brush of his finger under my chin.

I raise a brow, pulling harder on his hair. He grunts, rolling his eyes back when his boner throbs against my stomach. Interesting…

“For what?” I say with confusion, ignoring the butterflies fluttering in my guts.

Stupid butterflies. Just shoo now. I don’t have time for shitty feelings.

“For being an asshole after the show,” he whispers with pleading eyes. “I didn’t know… it was you.” He attempts to shake his head, but my fingers tighten, restricting his movements.

“He also wanted to say how sorry he was for not giving you the orgasm you deserved,” Rad hums in a quiet voice, almost so low I don’t hear the desire dripping from his words.

But I do. It’s the same gut-turning feeling twisting my insides when I peek at him. My hero. My fucking saint. Stepping closer, he’s a breath away. A kiss away. No! A punch away. His warmth brushes across my neck, sending shivers down my spine. Every inch of me heats to lava levels.

Stupid, complicated hormones. We’re done with bands! Done with guys like this.

I jerk back, narrowing my eyes thick with suspicion. Gritting my teeth, I curse myself. Why these guys? Huh? Why does it have to be them? Why can’t it be like some nice guy down the road with a good family who wants a healthy relationship?

This whole situation screams my ex, Donavon Drake. All over again. Why can’t I have some nice fella who treats me right and doesn’t look at me like I’m their next sex pet? This whole thing will lead to one big, fucking colossal disaster. And they’re the damn bomb exploding in the middle. I close my eyes and take several deep breaths and count to ten. If I could afford therapy, I’d have a therapist on speed dial ready to hear the chaos ruling my brain.

“Rad,” Kieran hisses between his teeth, grunting as he pulls against my grip. “Don’t make it fucking worse, idiot,” He curses under his breath when the man, firmly known as Rad, signs his death warrant.

I narrow my eyes when the warmth of a finger hovers above my cheek.

“You touch me with that finger you want to stroke my face with, and I’ll bite it off. I’m like that llama—no touchy-touchy. I don’t even know you,” I grit out, eyeing the offending finger like a damn Twinkie. Bring it closer, drummer boy, and you won’t be playing with your sticks or dicks any time soon.

“We came for the check you owe us,” Ash demands, cutting through the invisible rope of sexual tension hovering above me.

Pushing off the wall, Ash marches toward me with an odd sense of determination. His angular face hardens, and his hazel eyes narrow—my nose wrinkles when he catches Callum’s attention and nods in my direction. The tigers are on the prowl, ready to pounce on innocent little me. Callum’s eyes roll toward the ceiling at Ash’s demand. Placing the record back, he heaves a sigh and follows his leader like the baby duck he is, shoving his hands in his pocket. His gray eyes avoid mine, looking anywhere but at me.

“I paid you,” I tsk, shaking my head. “And how did you find me? Do I seriously need to change my address and name?” Shit. I need a security guard or something if these douche canoes are going to be hanging around. Or someone to guard me against doing something stupid, like fucking Kieran again.

“We went to the bar. The cook said you’d be here,” Ash says with a calculating eye.

Leon is fucking dead to me. Dead! Gone. I’ll dig his grave myself. Ugh! He probably cackled to himself after they left. Oh, yeah. Real fun. Send them to River so she can stress even more on her first day of classes.

“We came so I could apologize for being an asshole,” Kieran grunts when my fingers tighten to unimaginable levels, pulling him with my movements.

Rad snorts, pulling my attention to him, and pulls out a crinkled paper from his pocket. His nose wrinkles as he straightens out the crumbled paper on the counter's edge and then holds it in the air with pride. A slight smirk pulls at the edge of his lips when his dark eyes meet mine. My brows furrow when he puts it in front of my face, letting me read the messy print, and it all clicks.

My eyes widen when I read the words etched into the check repeatedly. And finally… I fuckin lose it. A laugh sputters from my lips, and I lose my grip on Kieran and spin around toward the cabinet. Through my fit of laughter, I carefully shut my knife and shove it into my pocket. My husky laugh bounces off the walls and fills the space until I’m practically crying.

“It’s not really that funny,” Ash says from in front of me with a rigid tone, eyes watching my every move.

“It’s kind of funny, dude,” Rad says through a chuckle, covering his mouth with his black-painted fingernails.

I stand straight up, feeling the tips of Kieran’s fingers brush against my bare legs. Damn, what a day to wear ripped short shorts. Goosebumps erupt, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. This time I don’t bother telling him not to touch me. He has enormous balls of steel after I held a knife to his nuts and told him to fuck off. I’ll give him a little inch. Now let’s see if he takes a mile.

“Come by the bar tonight. I can rewrite this for you,” I say, snorting and wiping the tears from my eyes.

“Tonight?” Ash asks, scrunching up his face. “Jesus, you’re working tonight too?”

I snort again, shoving the stupid check into my shorts pocket, and shrug. “A girl's gotta eat, Ash. So, yeah, definitely working both jobs today. Like most days.” I shrug, swallowing hard when Kieran’s hand rests on my leg.

“Wait!” Rad yells with an excited clap, bouncing on his toes. I startle, looking at him with a scathing look. But his joy overtakes everything, and he grins so big the sun shines off his pearly whites. “Sorcha is playing tonight! Isn’t she?” His eyes widen with glee. Even making Ash’s face go slack as they all look to me for confirmation.

“Yes. Sorcha is playing. There’s a cover charge, and it’s higher than yours.” I give a sharp nod, trying to tamp down my excitement.

Sorcha has the hottest touring independent band in the country. And tonight only, she’s stopping at our little bar to play for a room full of her Midwestern fans—me included. It took months and months of back and forth, but I finally snagged a date for her all-woman band to perform. Not only will I see my fucking idol, but she’ll bring lots of money to line my pockets.

I stiffen again, coming back to the quiet conversation around me. Kieran’s fingers make slow circles on my upper thigh, slipping beneath the fabric of my jean shorts.

“Do you ever sleep, River Blue? Or are you staring into the stars again, asking the man on the moon questions?” Kieran murmurs huskily, causing more goosebumps to pucker at my skin. My breath shudders when I fall into the memories of our past and let myself feel.

“Dear man on the moon. Will Stacey ever stop being mean?” I mumble, angling my head toward the bright stars and full moon.

“Who is the man on the moon?” a voice says from the shadows, startling me from my spot. I should have listened to my ma and stayed inside.

My heart thunders in my chest when a shadowy figure emerges from behind a tree. Blowing out a breath, I narrow my eyes at the neighbor boy waltzing toward me.

“The man on the moon, duh,” I say, gesturing to the giant orb, illuminating our quiet space.

“Right,” his brows furrow when he sits beside me at a good distance. “I’m Kieran Knight.”

“River Blue,” I say with a tiny nod, turning back to the moon. “Now, where was I,” I whisper, tapping my chin.

“You were asking the moon about Stacey…” Later that week, Stacey mysteriously broke her arm on the playground after a rough round of kickball, and no one knew how. Only Kieran, the Man on the Moon, and Stacey knew the truth.

“What?” I murmur, momentarily stunned by his rough fingertips against my skin.

He chuckles, moving closer. Bold move for someone who just had his nads threatened. But this seems to be his MO. Cocky. Takes what he wants.

“Relax,” he murmurs, eyeing the other boys. “I asked if you ever sleep?” I shiver when his fingers roll further up my thigh, almost to my panty line, and then back down again, teasing my exposed skin.

“I can sleep when I’m dead,” I whisper, looking back over to my computer screen, trying to ignore the fingers I want to take for a long ride.

My professor still chatters away in my ear, reviewing the syllabus I should listen to. But I can grab it online later and read it over.

The bell over the front door rings again, drawing our eyes toward the two guys casually walking inside. My body stiffens, watching my stupid ex, Van’s eyebrows raise at the sight before him. His wide eyes dart between the four boys standing together and me.

“Well, well, well, Whispered Words,” he says mockingly, looking each of the boys over with a snide look.

“Donavan Drake,” Ash says calmly, crossing his arms over his chest.

"It's Van," he sniffs haughtily.

Van nods his head at each of the guys in greeting, finally meeting mine. Frantic worry sits in the back of his dark eyes, searing into my soul. Internally, I roll my fucking eyes at the audacity of his stupefied expression. Like a damn deer caught in the headlights. He has no right. He kicked me to the curb. But yet, he still follows me like a lost puppy dog.

“You got the new Hartbraker’s album in yet?” he asks, clearing his throat.

Rad snorts, stepping just an inch closer to me, gaining Van’s attention. His warm body seeps into my side, and he fucking knows it. He grins like a maniac.

“Hartbraker’s bro? Zoe Hart? Didn’t she disappear for like seven years?”

Van’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline. “Zoe Hart went into Witness Protection, bro. She almost lost her damn life through it all. She's just now been able to come out and use her real name. She’s got a hell of a voice and a hell of a story to tell. This is her first album since she went through that shit in California. Real tragic shit, look it up,” Van says, shaking his head.

His brown strands swish with his movements until he swoops it out of his eyes and turns his attention back to me. Just this once, he waits in the winds to hear what I have to say. Of course, he has to, and I don’t mind. Music is my fucking life, and The Hartbrakers? They’re phenomenal, especially since they came back stronger than ever.

I forget the awkwardness between us and go right into my happy place. Music. The band-aid covers my broken soul, healing me one chord at a time.

“We got the shipment last night,” I say quietly, pointing toward the back of the store where stairs will lead him up to the second level. “There’s a huge display up there with all her records.” He offers me a tight smile, looks around again and then nods.

Van waves his brother along, and they trudge up the stairs, but not before he looks back at me one last time with torment on his face. He licks his lips, looking toward the backroom behind the counter, and then shakes his head.

You know, a long time ago, my ma told me to never, and I repeat, NEVER fuck around with rock stars. She said they were tormented souls who’d screw you over for every penny they could get, and I guess she’s right.

Exhibit A: my damn father. But we know all about that.

Exhibit B: Van Drake. The walking, talking sex on a stick, emo, punk rock wannabe who performed at Dead End and stole my heart once in high school. He was the best thing ever to happen to me until his parents discovered us in the back of his rocking Mustang. Naked and panting. Thick with sweat. Then he had to look me in the eye the next day and tell me he couldn’t be with me anymore. Yeah, how sweet of him, huh?

It turns out, ole mommy and daddy didn’t like him hanging out with the trash—me. Can you see why now I want to escape this stupid town and never look back? He comes in here every so often, giving me those big brown eyes, and I fail almost every time. Somehow, we always end up naked and panting, hiding in my boss’s office for a quickie.

But not today. And never again.

I’m so tired of being second-rate pussy that he’s too embarrassed to be seen in public with. Especially after he tore my damn heart out because mommy and daddy said so. Besides, the person I really want is rubbing his fingers up and down my leg. Even though I threatened him with a knife to the balls, he’s still as bold as they come. And I want another piece. You see, I’m not after love or affection because everyone around me leaves me, including Kieran. I’ll take good dick, maybe some dinner, but that’s it. No love is in the cards for this gal.

“Donavan Drake, huh? So, you’re the girl that sent Judge Drake into an uproar?” Ash asks, watching Van pace the second floor.

I scrunch my nose. “Yeah, I’m not discussing that with you,” I mumble because I’d rather choke on bleach than open myself up to a room full of bullies I went to high school with.

Rad whistles. “Man, his dad was on a damn rampage a year ago, going on about some Central chick who had trapped his son,” he says, moving a piece of hair from my forehead. “That was you, wasn’t it?”

I frown, thinking back to the hot and heavy nine months we spent together. Nine months of filthy sex. Passion. And what I thought was love. And then a hole in my heart.

“I don’t know how I trapped him,” I say, using rabbit ears over the word trapped. “We dated, had a good time, and then he tucked his tail when mommy and daddy said no.” My voice lowers when my eyes connect with his from the second level. A paleness takes over his tanned features, and he averts his eyes, looking ill. That’s right, buddy, I figured you out. He’s in love with me but refuses to acknowledge it.

“Informative,” Ash says, rubbing his chin, looking toward the sun beaming through the tall front windows.

“Informative?” I huff back, shaking my head.

“Just like I said,” he replies with a smirk, nodding his head to the other boys and gesturing to them at the front door.

“Buzzkill,” Rad murmurs with disappointment but quickly produces a smile. “See ya tonight, Pretty Girl! Make sure you make me a nice Pina Colada, my favorite.” He winks, hopping over the tall counter easily.

“Give me a second,” Kieran says in a soft voice right in my ear as the others walk out.

“You can go with them, Knight,” I say dismissively, fiddling with my earbud.

Despite the distractions around me, I made it through my first class. Granted, I was barely listening to his nasally voice. I huff, closing my laptop and pushing it aside. I don’t have another one until later, so I’ll do the same thing then, too. Work while listening, and hopefully, there won’t be any distractions.

“I can make my sorry up to you later,” he whispers directly in my ear, fingers brushing up the inside of my thigh, daring to go further. I swallow hard when he stands even closer to me, fingers working beneath the tethered ends of my shorts. “Or now,” he murmurs.

I clutch the counter's edge until my knuckles turn white and nod my head in agreement. I’m taking back what I want, and what I want is his fingers inside me.

“I’d much rather you boss me around and tell me you want to ride my face, but this will do for now, yeah?” he murmurs, flicking his tongue over my ear.

“That’s it then, huh?” I gasp when he hits my bundle of nerves with his fingertips. I lick my lip when he nods into my neck, and I sigh. “Then what are you waiting for? You have four seconds to get me off before Van comes downstairs with his brother and sees what you’re doing.”

“Maybe I want him to see what I’m doing?” Kieran says, rubbing his fingers over my clit in a frantic circle, bringing my orgasm closer and closer to the surface. Fire brews hotter in my stomach, spreading out through my veins. My toes curl in my Chucks, and goosebumps erupt everywhere, despite the heat filling every molecule of my body. “You think he’d get jealous? I think he would. Fun fact, Van never got over the girl they forced him to leave. But you don’t belong to Van Drake anymore. The truth is you never did. He was a pathetic excuse of a placeholder. Naw, my sweet River Blue, you belong to me. Always have. Always fucking will,” he murmurs into the curve of my neck with such possession that it ties my tongue into knots. I want to yell at him. I am my own fucking woman, and I don’t need him. Not after he left me. But nothing seems to come off my heavy tongue except heavy breaths.

My mouth hangs open, and my nails dig into the meaty flesh of his forearm, gripping him so hard I rip my index nail in half. “Fuck him,” I grunt, moving my hips with his movements. “Make me come, Kieran,” I whisper with desperation, giving in to the euphoric feeling taking over and leaning the back of my head against his shoulder. “And do it quickly,” I beg when his teeth sink into the flesh of my shoulder, creating such a delicious pain, stars burst behind my eyelids. A silent scream leaves my lips when the feeling finally wrecks through me.

My pussy clamps around his fingers, and I hold back the scream lodged in my throat. As much as I want to yell it out and let Van hear my pleasure, I hold it back. My breaths come down as soon as their footsteps sound on the metal staircase and head our way.

“Better?” he asks, licking along the wound he created.

“Good boy,” I murmur, tapping his leg. “You can go now,” I say, eyeing Van, talking to his brother in a low voice. He holds two records in his hands and has a smile on his face.

“I think I’ll stay for the show,” he says with a chuckle, eyeing the two boys.

“Well, you can remove your damn fingers from my pussy,” I say through gritted teeth, earning me another chuckle when he does.

“Van,” Kieran says, reaching across the counter with the very hand that was knuckle deep inside me.

My eyes widen in horror at his glistening fingers, soaked to the bone with my pussy juices, grasping onto Van’s in a weird bro handshake. They shake for a brief second, exchanging a few words.

“Nice to see you, man. I haven’t seen you around the circuit anymore. Your band not playing anymore?” Kieran asks, moving my long strands from the side of my neck and drifting them down my back, seeming to have any excuse to touch me. Hell, maybe he is a stalker, and I’m the willing little prey eating up his touch.

“Uh, nah. We kind of gave that up a year ago. College and all that got in the way.” Van shrugs with a cocky smirk, quickly dropping away when his eyes zero in on the exposed part of my neck. He swallows hard, huffing a breath. “Parents wouldn’t stop nagging me to give it up and focus on the future. So, they gave me a compromise.” Van’s eyes dart to me with uncertainty.

“Compromise?” Kieran asks, leaning against the counter with a lazy grin. He watches with glee as Van scratches under his nose and furrows his brows, staring at a glistening spot on his hand. “Was it over that chick?”

Great. I’m that chick now.

Van shifts uncomfortably, still staring at the spot on his hand when he shrugs again. “Um, nah. Dad handed me a check and told me to focus on my real future. So, it was money or the band. Ya know?”

Kieran scoffs, curling his lip back. “You chose money over the band?”

Van scowls. “Yeah. And what would you do, huh? It was take the money and go to college. Or he was going to kick my ass out. Money trumped the band. I needed school. I didn’t need the music.” He shakes his head, scratching under his nose again, and recoils. With furrowed brows, Van discreetly licks along the wet spot on his hand and jerks back, staring daggers in my direction, but remains rooted in place.

“Any true musician knows the music lives in their souls. It’s the fuel for life, man. You can’t just give that up for some green. That’s like throwing something away you love just because your parents say so.” Kieran side-eyes me, and I roll my eyes toward the ceiling, counting down the seconds until Van marches out of here and takes Kieran with him. I got off, and now they can fuck off.

When Van takes a deep breath and his nostrils flare, a twinkle sparkles in Kieran's mismatched eyes. Immediately he turns beet red, stopping the conversation when he shoves the records across the counter.

He pulls out two twenties and tosses them at me without care. “Keep the change,” he says through gritted teeth, yanking his confused as fuck brother along. Dillon awkwardly waves over his shoulder, cursing his brother when he shoves him out the door. And once again, I’m left alone with my kryptonite.

Kieran hums, watching them go, and then walks back around the L-shaped counter. He stops in front of my bewildered face and bops my nose with his index finger, grinning like a fucking madman. Which I’m coming to realize he is.

“That was fun, River Blue. We should do it again,” he rasps, leaning in to kiss my cheek. The warmth of his lips lingers on my cheek, and my damn body shudders from the contact.

“Don’t get too eager. Who says I’ll ever let you touch me again? This was a one-time thing,” I murmur, leaning my elbow into the counter and inadvertently leaning into his kiss.

He snorts, waving his hand. “See you tonight. But don’t make any plans for after your shift.”

I scoff. “Asshole, I get off at two in the morning, and then I’m going home.” He raises a brow, waltzing towards the front door leisurely.

“Don’t make any plans,” he all but demands with a possessive growl, spearing right through me.

“Fine.” I shrug like he didn’t make my pussy fucking gush at the sound of his growl. “But you better up your game, Richy.” He scowls at the nickname, shaking his head.

“It’s Kieran, not Richy,” he mumbles.

“Yeah, I’m River, not your River Blue or whatever other nicknames you can think of. Remember that. In fact, if you are so inclined, get on your damn knees and worship me next time we meet. I’d be highly disappointed if you didn’t. How’s that for taking charge?” I demand, putting the bills into the register and shoving the change into my pocket.

“You’ll always be my River Blue,” he says with a smirk. “And I’ll make good on that.”

And with that, Kieran walks out the door and gets into the passenger seat of the large Tahoe parked on the other side of the road. I watch through the bright windows as they silently sit until Ash’s mouth moves, and they start a discussion. I wish I could be a fly on the damn car ceiling to hear whatever they were saying.

My heart aches in my chest at his sudden reemergence. For so long, I told myself to forget about Kieran Knight. Yet here he is in the flesh, laying down some sort of claim on me like he has any damn right. What’s so different now than before? Why is he coming at me so hard with everything he has and stamping his name on my forehead?

I’m pulled from my thoughts as the bell rings over the door again. I frown, staring at the last culprit I thought I’d ever see again. Van comes back through the door with determination etched on his face as he marches up to me.

“Don’t trust those assholes,” he grits his teeth. “Whatever they say to you, they’re lying,” he says, slamming a fist onto the counter. “Believe me, they’ll screw you over faster than you can count to three, Rivey,” he pleads, clenching his teeth.

I nod my head, looking at them through the tall window. They stare over this way. Asher’s mouth flaps a few times, and the others stare, waiting in the car, inspecting everything we do with a keen eye.

“Yeah? Just like you, Van?” I hum, leaning my elbow on the counter.

“Yeah, Riv,” he sighs, running a hand down his face. “Just like that, trust me on this.” His voice sounds urgent, and his eyes plead with me to believe him.

I snort. “Right. Trust you? You’re joking, right? Well, I’m a big girl, Van. I’ve got this. Thanks for your concern.”

“Damnit, Rivey, you’re too stubborn,” he mutters, cursing under his breath. “I’m serious. Whatever they’re hanging around for, they’re going to use you. That’s all they do is use people for what they want.”

“Huh, sounds familiar,” I say, tilting my head toward the back office, and then I frown.

Shit. I must have a knack for fucking in Booker’s offices. First, Van at the record store whenever he wants to slum it, and then Kieran at the bar. I need to get laid in bed or somewhere normal next time.

Van swallows hard, looking toward the ground. “I… Riv, I… you know…” I hold up my hand, cutting him off.

“I don’t need your excuses, but our time against the desk is done. I don’t need to be second to anyone. No hard feelings,” I say with a shrug, eyeing his shallow breaths.

Ah, it appears that Van doesn’t like that answer. No. He wants to keep using me and then dumping me all over again. I don’t need to keep clawing at these raw wounds and tearing them open for a man who will never love me. He wants me to beg him to fuck me again so he can leave and return to his charmed life without a second glance.

“I, yeah, um…. that’s cool,” he stutters through his words, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ll still be your friend, though,” he murmurs, placing his hand on mine.

At one time, Van’s touch made butterflies burst inside my stomach. And for the first time in a long time, I feel absolutely nothing. Not even his big brown eyes could lure me into their spell. It’s taken a long time to get over how he made me feel and how he rejected me so severely. But I think I’m finally moving on. And so, sue me, it may be into the arms of another rich dickface. To me, it’s significant progress on the River’s heartbreak scale.

I’m moving on from my first and last love onto a better dick. And that’s it. How’s that phrase go? When one dick disappoints, move on to the next one for a better ride? Yeah, something like that.

His fingers curl around mine, and he squeezes once. “I know you’re a big girl, way more capable than me. But I’m serious, Riv. They just take with no regard for who they hurt.”

“Yeah? And what did they take from you?” I ask, leaning on the counter again.

“Nothing from me, but they’ll stop at nothing to get to the top. They want… they want your dad to sign them,” he says, swallowing hard. “I’ve heard them talk about it when we played shows together. He’s their rock idol and getting to the KC Club is their ultimate dream.”

“Pfft. My dad can have ‘em,” I say, wrinkling my nose at the thought. But I’m skeptical of whatever he has to say. “So, let’s assume what you’re trying to say is… these assholes are getting close to me to get to him? Don’t they know Corbin West doesn’t do shit with his kids unless they’re named Seger or Zeppelin?” I scoff at that, envy brewing in my belly.

I vaguely remember my two older brothers from the brief time I lived with them. But the one thing I know about them is that they got Dad’s attention their whole life. And my dad wrote me off the moment he threw us out. So, to say I’m a little jealous they got his love, and I didn’t, is an understatement. Why them and not me? That’s always been the question.

“Fine,” he mumbles. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He shakes his head, moving his long hair from his eyes.

“You’re good. You warned me that if I get burned, that’s on me. I don’t trust them as far as I can throw them, for the record,” I say with a shrug, earning a sharp nod.

Van waves goodbye as he walks out the door with a solemn look on his constipated face before stepping out into the sun. So, the boys think they’re getting into my daddy’s record company through me? That’s laughable at best. But let’s see them try. I won’t let my feelings get in the way. All I’m here for is a good time.