Want (Ryder Brothers Book 2)

by Kayti McGee

  “Can I join you?” he asks.

  We wrangle both our bodies onto my floaty and we lay side by side facing each other. He’s playing his fingers on my taught stomach and I let my fingers play on his abs, think of how our bodies make music together.

  “What if I fuck it up?” I ask.

  “What do you mean? Do you have an interview tomorrow or something?”

  “No, I just mean… everything.” His jaw clenches the way it did in my bedroom when I told him I needed us to go faster. But this time I also recognize legitimate concern.

  “I still kind of want to cut that guy’s balls off, so don’t you even think for a second that I’ll let Thurgood get away with telling you you’re a fuck-up on the show.”

  “No, I mean… what if I fuck it all up even with Richard?”

  I watch the muscles around his ribs inflate as he inhales and I put my hand there. He switches again into interviewer voice.

  “We hear you do quite a bit of dancing in this part. How has it been working with the cast as dancers?”

  My instinct is to say how insecure I am, that I am struggling to learn this one part, but I think of Jake’s lessons so far.

  “It’s a dream working with the cast. We all are working harder than we’ve ever worked and it feels like a family. Dancing is really important to me so I feel like I’m getting to bring all of myself to the show.” I wait for him to splash me, and he just slides his hand down my thigh instead. His hands look so big compared to mine.

  “What do you feel like when you’re dancing?”

  I bring my hand to his face and smooth out a drop of water still clinging to his cheek.

  “Like anything’s possible.”

  Jake gives me that smile and its like it’s happening despite his best intentions. He pulls me toward him, brings his lips to mine softly, and then with greater need. Our tongues find each other the way that our voices do. I feel lost in his kisses floating on this raft, and forget for a few moments that I have a single care in the world.

  If only everything could be as easy as kissing Jake Ryder.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Jake

  The next day in the studio it’s hard to concentrate. I’m able to get by without some of the magic of the last few weeks because we are just in some of the final stages.

  Today it feels like everyone is on autopilot.

  “I’m going to add more reverb to tracks 3,6, and 8,” Boomer says.

  “That’s fine,” I say. He lifts his baseball hat and swipes at his head before replacing it again. He’s ready for a discussion but I’m just not there today.

  “I can put just the bare minimum on 6.”

  “Yeah, that’s cool.” I pretend to watch in interest just to get some space to be in my head.

  “I want you to re-record the rhythm section of track 8,” my producer says, and it’s a relief to head back in and lose myself with my guitar. I can’t stop thinking about the fake interview in the pool with Marlee.

  “Jake, we’re gonna replay that in your headphones with the level shifted slightly. Let us know what you think.” I barely listen to it and give them a thumbs-up but all I can really hear is the sound of Marlee’s voice when she worried that she would fuck things up with that fuckhead who’s fucking things up for her.. Her eyes were so sad and I wanted to be able to fix it like I usually can with everything else.

  When we are finalizing the levels to my song with Marlee my focus comes back into the room to really be present with the richness of her voice layer. That simple idea to just include her, to include the very inspiration for my wandering notes, it transformed the song and made it more honest and have, like, feelings. She made the whole album possible.

  I want to show her that. I want to show her that she’s more than enough. When the song ends I shift my attention into a new plan. I’ll take her out to dinner at the restaurant we went to the opening for. We’ll cruise up Mulholland and look out over the city and I’ll explain to her that she’s everything. That this industry will do its best to make her feel bad about herself, but that she outshines all the lights of downtown and they cannot be allowed to dull that.

  I text Arizona to get us a reservation at Cholla and head home. When I walk in, I see her dancing in the living room, the stereo on full blast to the instrumental from the show. I know she’s working the part of the choreography that she thinks she’s fucking up but she looks like she’s flying. I take out my phone to click a video of it but I can’t watch her through my screen so I look above it as she leaps in the air and arches her back her body reversed curve in a nearly perfect C. She swings her leg into the air to pivot her soft hips and I watch her ass follow the swivel of her shoulder like she’s made of water. I’ve never seen anyone dance like her, skilled but with the energy of an improviser.

  The fact that she can’t see that shows how much Thurgood is just a crutch to her. She’s doing this because she truly doesn’t believe she can do this on her own but she’s done everything on her own so far. It’s heartbreaking.

  She turns in a piourette and catches me filming her but in a total 180 she covers her face and throws herself onto the couch sobbing. Um, what?

  “Marlee?”

  She looks up at me, some stray hair in her mouth, eyes red and puffy but still looking beautiful. I can tell that she’s trying to hide it but all I have to say is what’s wrong before she is sobbing again.

  I sit on the couch next to her and start to rub her back and down to where her hip crests over her ass. Her sobs are long and shake her whole body. I pull her up so that her head is resting on my chest.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask again, trying to get her to look at me. If that fucking fuckhead has done something already I’ll kill him. I don’t even care that his bank account could buy and sell a thousand Ryders. She shakes her head and rubs at her nose.

  “Bad day at rehearsal. I don’t want to talk about. it”

  “Do you want to go out? I can get us dinner.” I leave out the part about the reservation.

  “Yes,“ she says at first, perking up. I pull some of her hair away from her mouth and smooth it back. Then her eyes fill with tears again and she shakes her head.

  “No. No! I want to order pizza, and binge-watch shows, and drink wine, and not think for awhile. Can we just… be us tonight?”

  I like the way us sounds. I nod and kiss her lips and feel her body press against me hungrily.

  If we can’t go out I can still make Netflix and chill feel romantic as fuck. I call in the pizza order and pick a Pinot that Nick gave me and told to save for special occasions. I throw a towel over my forearm and pour a little bit of it into a wide mouth glass in her hands. She smiles at me finally and makes a big show of sniffing it and tasting it. Her face squints like it does with any first sip of alcohol and I like knowing this about her.

  “Not bad,” she says. I pour our glasses full. I tell her to choose whatever she wants while I get the pizza onto plates. I look up to see she’s put on Riverdale.

  “Guilty pleasure,” she says. We eat and make fun of the show and it feels nice to just be together like this. We finish eating and let the episodes bleed into each other. I start to rub her calves and she coos and stretches her legs onto my lap.

  “Everything hurts so much,” she says. And I rub down the sculpted muscles and down the long shins into her feet. I pull on her toes and she jumps.

  “Gentle,” she says and I grin and stretch a few more toes out.

  She laughs and kicks her feet away from me. I grab them and start to tickle them.

  “Stop it! You’re cruel.” She pulls her legs back and sits up and I grab onto her sides, tickling there and she buckles against me. I’m getting hard feeling her yield and resist and she gives me a look and smile that indicates that she’s feeling this too. I pull her on to my lap so that she’s sitting facing away and start to kiss down the length of her long smooth neck. I rub my hand and arm back and forth over her supple breasts, feeling her n
ipples reach for me through the thin fabric of her tank top. I feel the muscles of her ass gripping onto my dick, all through our clothing and I know what I want from her, from us. I want to claim her completely.

  “Next lesson,” I say. My voice comes out huskily by her ear. I bring us both to our feet, keeping her faced away from me. She knows now not to turn around no matter how badly she wants to. She presses her ass into my crotch again and I thrust forward enjoying her grinding against me.

  “Walk,” I say into her ear and we make our way to my bedroom. I turn her around and she drops to her knees, pulls my dick free and wraps her lips around it. I pull her head back and she looks at me with her mouth open.

  “Take your shirt off,” I say. I watch her tits reappear in the room and I rub my dick against her nipples, feel the perfect curve of her cleavage. She grips her breasts around my shaft and I thrust a few times but shake my head.

  “I want to really feel you. I want to fill you completely. Take your shorts off. Bend down as you do it.”

  “Yes,” she says turning her back to me and sliding the waistband over her hips, her round ass bending down as she slides them over her legs so I can watch how the curves make way for her swollen vulva. I can see how wet she is and I run my knuckles along the back of her opening. I take my clothes off and sit on the bed and pull her ass closer to me.

  “Grind on me like you did while we were watching TV.” She swings her hair over her shoulder and I feel the cheeks of her ass hugging around my dick. I press forward and let her grind on me. I reach around and play with her clit and she starts to moan like I like it.

  I move my hand in quick circles because I want her to come first and she does, fast and hard, her wetness all over my hand. I roll her onto the bed and kiss the curve of her ass and let my lubed-up fingers play at the bullseye. The only part of her virginty that’s left, and it cannot possibly belong to another man. She’s perfectly shaved and smooth and I even as I love that pussy, I need her ass and she’s ready as it plays with taking in the tip of my finger. Slowly she takes it in, as I move in slow circles. She groans with pleasure.

  I want to consume her. She may not ever love me like I love her but her body belies that intimate connection that only we share when she gives enough tolet me in to that most private of places, her innermost sanctum.

  When I feel her start to loosen enough I slip a condom on and massage some lube onto her asshole. I slip my dick between her labia getting it slick with her. I pull her back against me, pull her ass apart and let the tip of my cock play against that gorgeous rosebud. I feel her body yield against me as I work it in as gently as possible and slide into her, deeper and deeper, feeling myself sink home in the last place she’s officially let anyone. I let my body lay on her back and I wrap my arms around her chest.

  “Still okay?” I barely manage.

  “Oh fuck,” she exclaims, “Yeah, yeah, yeah I am “ and I’m, feeling her pulse around my cock, buried deep inside her now. She moans and gasps as I slowly start to fuck her, not pulling out at all but rocking slow and deep.

  “You’re so incredible,” I say. “You’re endless.”

  “I want you deeper,” she says. “I don’t know how I can want you deeper but I do.”

  So I push myself against her, my hips straining against her muscles. I know that the more she comes the more her body will relax and take even more of me in so I slip a hand down to her clit, slowly pull out and slowly enter her again. I feel her start to come and so I increase my rocking motion, riding her feeling like she’s part of my body. Her cunt pulses against my hand and as I feel her muscles relax I push deeper and slip a finger inside her pussy. She starts to ride against me. Her ass is moving in wide circles, my finger slipping in and out of her. I feel her come again and it’s all I can do to keep myself focused because I’m not ready to come, I’m not ready to let go of her.

  “Don’t go with him. Stay with me. Be with me. Want me.”

  I thrust harder against her pushing deeper increasing my speed.

  “Oh Jake,” and she comes again crying out wildly. I grip her breasts in my hands.

  “Don’t sign the contract. Want me.”

  “I can’t,” she cries out, still rocking against me. I slip my hands down to her thighs and feel her back up all her weight into me. I pound against her with three quick thrusts and I’m coming harder than I’ve ever come, before filling the condom to what has to be more than it was intended.

  My chest is heavy as I slowly pull out and turn her to me.

  “Why not?”

  “Don’t make me do this, Jake,” she says tears in her eyes. “I do want you but I can’t. God, I wish I could but I can’t. Don’t you see? I fucked up rehearsal so badly today. Again. This whole thing has been such a struggle. The choreographer finally just told me the truth. That if it wasn’t for Richard, I never would have gotten the part. That I don’t deserve it. I need what he can offer. I’m not enough.”

  “Yes, you are,” I say.

  “No,” she says angrily. “I’m not good enough. This has to be the last of us.” She covers her face and lets out one sob before getting up and walking out of my room.

  The last thing I want is to be alone after what we just did, to be alone with the reality of what’s happening. I get up and run after her, like in a Ryder Brothers song, and see our half-finished glasses of wine and the open pizza box and its almost like I can step back in time to before we went into the bedroom. But I don’t want to trade what we just shared either. I resent everything about this deal. She slams the bathroom door and I pound my fist on it twice, hearing her sobs on the other side.

  “This doesn’t have to be the last of us,” I say, a mix of passion and urgency flooding through my body. “There’s still so much more.” I wait a moment and watch her open the door, her face looking more pulled together than it has looked all week.

  “You’ll forget about me sooner than you think. Let me be someone else’s problem now.” I watch her go to her bedroom and lean against the bathroom door frame desperately trying to get a grip. I wanted to show her that she was enough, more than enough but maybe I was a fool to think I could.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Marlee

  We’ve been avoiding each other since that night. The Loving Shit, or else you could call it the butt stuff. It’s like after we first agreed to do all of this when we were so nervous and couldn’t look at each other, when he was afraid he would hurt me. Now he’s not worried about hurting me, but I know that I’m hurting him. It’s not nervousness that keeps us from looking at each other at night, or causes me to leave the house earlier and get coffee out just to avoid him in the morning, its pain. I didn’t come here just to settle down even though I can see my life with him so clearly. It could all just be ultimately temporary for him and then I would have given up everything: my home and family in Missouri, my dream. For what?

  My mom always said that we can’t have it all but we can come close and how the thing that’s missing is what will always distract us from being happy. But each decision makes me so unhappy. The choice that Jake is posing feels impossible and it hurts that I’m even having to make it.

  I spend my mornings crying on the way to work. Splashing my face with water in the bathroom, smiling at the cast members and then getting yelled at for six hours by the choreographer, Loren. And no another day of the same probably.

  After I splash my face with water, I look in the mirror and my eyes are still puffy and red around the rim. I blow my nose again and try to cover up the puffiness with concealer which seems to just make the pink skin shine more.

  “Oh well, Marlee,” I say to the mirror. “I won’t cry in front of them.” And slip my sunglasses on. I plan on keeping them on until its time to start and then everyone will be red faced and puffy and I won’t stand out so much.

  I climb the stairs to the rehearsal space, the white room blindingly bright with the wall of mirrors reflecting the wall sized windows looking out over
downtown.

  Today it’s a rehearsal day for just the principals so there are only five of us in the room. Everyone is stretching and chatting and I don’t see Loren yet and can’t help but hope that he’s sick.

  My favorite person so far, Tanya, gives me the biggest smile and waves me over.

  “Please tell us you are free tonight? We are desperate to blow off steam. Dinner and drinks after?” But before I can answer Loren comes breezing in with a Venti cup and his round pink face and wispy red hair. He hands the cup to his assistant and claps his hands three times.

  “Off your asses, people.”

  Tanya and I nod to each other to connect later and I slip my shoes off.

  “Child, please take those sunglasses off. There’s no indication you’re going to be that big a star, at least on no account of your own. Let’s go.” I don’t need to glance around to know that he’s talking about me. I fold them and tuck them into my bag, hoping my hair will cover my eyes until we get moving. I get in to line for our warm-up and I make the mistake of glancing at him while his assistant sets up the music. He looks in my eyes and smirks.

  “Boo-hoo,” he says. And then leads us in an exhausting warm up like a cross between boot-camp and Zumba.

  “Move it, children,” he says. I work double time, warming myself up way more than I need to just to put off his inevitable critique.

  I’m panting when we are moving on to the most complicated ensemble number for the five of us. He laughs when he looks at me and I hold my breath because I don’t want him to see me breathing hard.