“I love it. And you couldn’t have found a more perfect ring for me.”
“I had it designed for you,” he admits, tucking errant strands of my hair behind my ears. “Four years ago.”
My jaw slackens. “You did?”
He nods. “I didn’t know how I could make it happen, but I always hoped I’d propose to you one day, and I wanted to be prepared.”
I slam my mouth down on his, kissing his lips and then dotting little kisses all over his face. He chuckles, clearly delighted at my enthusiasm. “You know,” he says, looking a little more serious. “If you don’t want to elope, if you want the big white wedding, we can wait. I don’t want to force this on you today if it’s not what you want. I guess I can try and summon patience from somewhere,” he adds with a teasing grin.
“Ugh, no.” I scrunch my nose. “A big white wedding has never been on the cards for me.” I peck his lips. “I want to elope to Vegas with you today. I love that it’s just us. And maybe we can organize a small celebration here when we come back?”
“That sounds perfect, and you’re perfect.” He nips at my earlobe, sending a shot of liquid lust straight through me. “I thought as much, but I didn’t want to assume.”
I jump up, clapping my hands and shrieking. “We’re getting married today!!!”
Climbing to his feet, he hauls me into his arms, kissing me with obvious intent. “We’ve a lot to arrange, but I don’t think we should let our engagement pass without celebrating it.” His eyes glint wickedly as his hands slide down to my bare ass, and he yanks me hard against his growing erection. I moan into his mouth, sighing contentedly as he takes my hand, leading me into the shower.
I switch the shower on, testing the water with my hand while he makes quick work of his clothes. He steps in behind me, and I tilt my face up to the warm water as his hand creeps around my waist, moving up to cup one of my breasts. He rolls my nipple between his thumb and index finger, and the bud instantly hardens. Pushing my hair to one side, he grazes his mouth along my sensitive skin while he continues to fondle my breast. His hard length pulses against my ass, and I shiver all over. His other hand moves down between my legs, and he thrusts two fingers inside me without warning. I automatically clench around his digits, moaning as I lean back into him, extending my neck and opening my legs a little wider, to give him more access.
“Fuck, I love those little sounds you make,” he says, rocking his erection into me. “And I love the look on your face when I make you come.”
I twist around, pushing my tits into him as I greedily claim his mouth. “I love your cock,” I murmur over his mouth, moving my hand down to grip him. “Especially when you’re rutting into me like a wild animal.” I stroke his length in quick strokes, sucking his lower lip into my mouth as my hips buck up. “That sounds like a challenge.” He nips my earlobe, and a pleasurable moan escapes my mouth.
“Fuck me, Rock Star. Fuck me so hard I don’t even remember my name.”
His eyes turn dark with desire as he grabs both my hands, hoisting them up over my head. He pushes me back against the cool tile wall, dipping his head down to suck on my nipple. I writhe against him, wet and aching for him. “Wrap those gorgeous legs around me,” he commands, lifting my left thigh. I do as he says, lining my pussy up perfectly as my legs fit around his waist. In one skillful thrust, he’s inside me, and I cry out as he fills me up and holds still, staring deep into my eyes as he holds our bodies in place. “I fucking love you so much.”
“I love you too.” My eyes close as his mouth descends on mine, and his kiss is tender and sweet until he starts moving his cock in and out of me, and then the tempo amps up.
Capturing my lips in a bruising kiss, he thrusts his hips forward, pushing his cock into me as far as it will go, and I see stars. The beginnings of my orgasm are already building as he picks up his pace, jutting his hips in and out as my legs cling to his waist. My arms drop as he slides his hands to my ass, tilting my hips up at an angle so he can bury himself deeper. I cry out as he grinds into me, both of us groaning in ecstasy.
He fucks me hard and fast under the cascading water until we both fall over the ledge, literally seconds apart. He stays inside me for a few minutes, kissing me softly as I run my fingers through his wet hair. Then he eases out slowly, carefully setting my legs down, keeping an arm around my waist until I’m steady. “I love you, soon-to-be Mrs. Stone.” He pecks my lips, and I fling my arms around him, not wanting to let him go.
“I can’t wait,” I truthfully admit, easing back to cup his face. “This is exactly where we are both meant to be.”
He takes my hand, placing it over his heart. “This only beats for you.”
We take turns washing each other before getting dressed and packing our overnight bags. Ryder’s on the phone, making plans, while I fix breakfast. A half hour later, we’re in the SUV, with Mike and Lar, en route to the airport, kissing, touching, and laughing as we bask in the euphoria of our special day.
When we land in Vegas, we head straight to a trendy designer store to find something to wear. Ryder called in advance, and the store has been cleared for our private fittings. Neither of us is bothered about tradition, so I choose a figure-hugging black, red, and gold dress with gold-spiked black-velvet stilettos while Ryder picks out gray skinny jeans, a white shirt, and black jacket.
Next, we stop at a jewelry store and select matching wedding bands.
Then it’s on to the office to pick up the marriage license Ryder registered for online, and then we proceed to the chapel he booked for the actual ceremony. I can’t believe he set all this up so fast, but he forgot nothing, and we’re really doing this. I’m giddy with excitement, and my heart is so full. I know this day will be a day I’ll cherish forever.
We complete the paperwork, hand over our IDs, and Ryder pays the fee. Then I’m walking up the aisle on Mike’s arm toward my clearly emotional fiancé.
We hold hands throughout the short ceremony, never taking our eyes off one another. The only part of it I remember is reciting our vows, exchanging rings, and cementing our marriage with a panty-melting kiss. When the celebrant announces we are man and wife, I cling to Ryder, kissing him again and again, my heart swollen with so much love. Mike takes some photos, and then Ryder whisks me to our suite in The Venetian where a sumptuous dinner and a bottle of expensive champagne awaits us. After gorging ourselves on our wedding feast, we make love in the jacuzzi, and then Ryder takes me to bed where we consummate our marriage until the early hours of the morning.
We stay another day and night in the hotel although we don’t step foot outside our suite. Ryder surprises me with a stunning ruby and diamond necklace to match my engagement ring, and I’m raging I didn’t think to get him anything in the store when we were there.
While he’s asleep, I write him a love song, offering it to him as part one of his wedding gift when he wakes up. The second part of his gift was something I ordered online while he was snoozing. I paid extra for a rush job so his new custom-made, personally engraved Fender should arrive at our Hamptons house within the week, and I can’t wait to see his face when he gets it.
I call Jill and Kayla and give them the good news while Ryder updates Rod and the guys. When I get off the phone, I throw myself at my husband, showering him with kisses. “Not that I’m complaining, but what’s that for?” he asks, pulling me into his arms.
“Kayla just told me what you did.” I kiss him again. “Thank you.”
He shrugs. “It was the right thing to do.”
When Kayla told me Torment’s new label had offered Savage Mania a recording contract, I almost fell off my chair. But when she explained that Ryder had personally called Gus to apologize, I nearly burst into tears. I know that can’t have been easy, and that he was doing it for me, and I couldn’t love him any more than I do. “It was, but it took balls, and I’m proud of you. And I’m so excited fo
r Gage and the rest of the band.”
“I think they have a bright future in the industry, and we look forward to working with them.” His hands move to the knot on my toweling robe. “Now, enough talk of your ex. I want you underneath me, naked and screaming out my name, Mrs. Stone.”
I shimmy the robe off my shoulders, letting it pool at my feet. “I think that can be arranged, Mr. Stone.” I drape my arms around him. “Lead the way.”
“How did your meeting go at the charity?” Rod asks as we arrive at the Manhattan hotel where the press conference is being held. We’d stopped at the charity’s HQ on the way to meet with the director. Ryder wanted to explain the situation to her before he announced his identity to the world. Considering the nature of the services the charity provides, it’s a sensitive situation.
“About as well as expected.” Ryder shrugs, trying his best not to look dejected.
“They’re naturally shocked, and the director said they need some time to consider the potential impact on their operation,” I explain. “They’re grateful for all Ryder has done for the charity, and more understanding of why he wanted to keep his involvement on the down low, but they may come under scrutiny because the donations that come from the annual Torment charity concert are a matter of public record. She’s not sure how that will be perceived.”
I squeeze Ryder’s hand, as Rod ushers us into the building via a concealed back door. Judging by the screams and shouts reaching us from the front of the hotel, I think it’s safe to say quite the crowd has amassed. When Rod issued an announcement a couple days ago, confirming Ryder Stone was holding a press conference, speculation among the media and his fans was rife. Everyone is wondering what today is about, and interest is high.
“I hope it works out,” Rod says, patting Ryder on the back. “I know how much the charity means to you.”
“We’ve actually discussed starting a new charity in Cory’s name,” I supply.
Rod slams to a halt. “I think that’s a wonderful idea, and if you need any help with it, you know where I am.”
Ryder slings his arm around my shoulders, smiling at me. “It was my wife’s idea, and I couldn’t be prouder of her.”
I stretch up and kiss his cheek. “You hanging in there?”
He sucks in a sharp breath, and tension lines his jaw. “I just want to get it over and done with.”
“It’ll be fine, Ryder,” Rod says. “And we’ll deal with whatever shit comes at us as a team.”
When we walk into the side room, at the back of the ballroom where Ryder will make his statement, I’m surprised to find Gar, Micah, Scott, and Linda there along with Jill and Liam and Kayla and Gage.
“What are you all doing here?” Ryder asks, shock splayed across his face.
“You didn’t think we were going to let you do this by yourself now, did you?” Micah says, grabbing him into a hug.
“Can’t let you hog all the limelight,” Gar adds, slapping him on the back.
Scott approaches next, offering him his hand. “We’re all proud of you and behind you one hundred percent.”
I’m hugely emotional at the outpouring of love for Ryder, knowing how much he needs this because he’s been a nervous wreck all day. Jill pulls Ryder into a hug. “You’re doing the right thing,” she says. “And people will understand once they hear the full story.”
“Good luck, Ryder.” Liam shakes his hand, smiling at me.
“You’ve a good heart, Ryder,” Kayla says, grabbing him down to her level so she can kiss his cheek. “And everyone will see that.”
“Savage Mania supports you,” Gage says, hugging him briefly. “And if you need us to do anything, you’ve only got to ask.”
“Thank you,” Ryder chokes out. “Thank you all for being here.”
When it’s time, we walk out into the ballroom where the world’s media is congregated. I take my place at Ryder’s side as he stands before the curious crowd, holding his free hand. The remaining members of Torment, and Rod, line up behind us with the rest of our crew standing off to the side.
Some reporter notices our wedding bands, asking if we’re married. “Yes, we got married recently, and I’m proud to call this beautiful woman my wife,” Ryder confirms, shooting an adoring glance my way. “But that’s not what today is about. Today is about a little boy named Cory Barnes and a past I have hidden from the world.” Hushed whispers echo around the room. “I have a statement prepared, and I won’t be accepting questions.” I squeeze his hand as he begins to read out his statement, keeping my eyes focused on him and shutting out the room, as he tells the world the truth. His voice breaks in a few places, and I slide my arm around his waist, offering my physical support. Reporters shout out questions while he speaks, but Ryder ignores them, reading the words he’d painstakingly written. I’d helped him with it, but it’s still so emotional listening to him reading the words out loud. At the end, he confirms our intent to set up a charity in honor of Cory and promises more details will be forthcoming in due course.
When he’s finished, his shoulders collapse, and I can tell he’s barely holding it together. His head hangs down, and he won’t meet anyone’s eye. Pulling him into my arms, I hug him close. “You did good, baby. I’m proud of you.”
Rod makes a brief statement on behalf of Torment, confirming the band’s support of Ryder, and then we make a fast exit. I try to block out the questions being shouted as we leave but it’s hard to blot it all out, and some of it isn’t pleasant.
Ryder doesn’t speak as we make our way out of the hotel and into the waiting limo. He wants to get out of the city as fast as possible, so we’ve already said our goodbyes to the others inside. Rod is the only one still with us, and Mr. Jenkins, Ryder’s attorney, is waiting in the limo. We head straight to the police station where Ryder makes a formal statement and lodges an official complaint about Ren Winters. Mr. Jenkins has already applied for a restraining order in both our names, and he anticipates it being approved within the next twenty-four hours.
Our last point of order is a conference call with Ryder’s probation officer in Orange County. He’s not pleased Ryder didn’t inform him in advance, and he cautions there may be serious consequences. Already, social media is blowing up, and it’s brought a spotlight on Orange County and the case all over again.
We shake hands with Mr. Jenkins and Rod after the call has concluded, and I’m confident both those guys will do everything in their power to ensure Ryder is kept out of jail. Then we head to the airport, and I only feel Ryder start to relax once the plane is taxiing down the runway.
When we get home, we change into comfy clothes, order takeout and snuggle on the couch. Ryder hasn’t said much since the press conference, but I don’t pressure him to talk. I’m just there for him, hugging and kissing him, letting him know how much I love him. We purposely avoid checking out comments online and head to bed early. Tears stream down his face as he tenderly makes love to me, and I hold him close all night, praying we’ve done the right thing and that this will finally enable him to move on and leave the past in the past.
“What’s all that?” I ask a few days later when Mike arrives in the kitchen carrying four massive gray sacks.
“Fan mail sent over from the label.”
I frown, wondering if it’s wise to show that to Ryder. He’s been very melancholy and closed off the last few days. “I think I should check some of it out before Ryder returns from his run. I don’t want him upset if there’s anything nasty in there.”
The story of Ryder’s true identity has gone viral, and public debate is divided. His fans have stuck loyally by his side, defending him online, while various expert child psychologists argue about the case in scheduled TV interviews. Some are siding with Ryder, explaining he was a vulnerable child who was preyed on by older boys and he’s already served his time, while others argue his youth and his lack of involvement in the
actual murder don’t negate his culpability. Parent support groups lambast him for being a bad role model for their children, and calls for his resignation from Torment are widespread.
I’m trying to shield him from the media, but he’s prone to self-destructive behavior and I’ve caught him checking out stuff on his cell on countless occasions. I’ve beseeched him to not look at it, but I can’t force him to ignore it, and I know it’s easier said than done, especially when you know the whole world is talking about you and casting judgment.
I’m trying to keep things as normal as possible at home, and keeping conversation away from those tough subjects, but it’s challenging. Mr. Jenkins confirmed the restraining orders are operational, but Ren is in the wind. The police say there is no official record of Ren Winters after age seventeen, and he’s clearly using a false identity.
They have taken fresh statements from some of the other members of Z-Crew, and they’ve confirmed the truth. It appears languishing in a jail cell for eight years has relinquished their supposed loyalty to their old gang leader. Vincent, Ryder’s only friend back then, and the only other member who is currently free, has also corroborated Ryder’s account of events. All the statements are classified, in order to protect the identities of those involved and to keep the media from blowing this up into an even bigger shitstorm.
“Good idea,” Mike says, propping the first bag up on the island unit and pulling out a stool. “I’ll help.”
I’ve a healthy pile of letters and gifts open in front of me by the time Ryder arrives back from his run. Tears are streaming down my face as I read every heartfelt message.
“What’s going on?” Ryder asks, using the bottom of his tank to rub the sweat from his forehead.
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