Ridge

by Adriane Leigh

  A half hour later, I was walking through the blowing snow, hands in my pockets, back hunched to the cold, headed for the bar I liked to frequent a few blocks from my apartment. I knew it was late, but shit got started late on Saturday nights. I’d been here enough to know that. I’d taken one last shot before leaving my place, steeling my resolve.

  I stepped into the small place and my eyes scanned the crowd. It was busy, but not packed; the weather was probably keeping people at home.

  I ran a hand through my hair and assessed the situation. Lots of pairs and foursomes tucked into booths. A few singles at the bar, but no one of interest. Men and women that looked desperate for connection—for a fuck—me before I met Mia, and me just after I kicked her from my life.

  I sat at a barstool on the end and nodded to the bartender. He leaned in his head to hear over the shitty music playing and I ordered a beer. The wind blew snow outside the windows and I started to wonder why the fuck I’d come, what the fuck I was searching for.

  A replacement.

  Something to make me forget.

  “Hey,” a soft voice slid up next to me at the bar.

  I arched an eyebrow and turned to her. Soft, dark-blonde waves fell over her shoulders, full lips and rosy cheeks lifted in a smile. She looked sweet.

  “Hey.” I took another drink of my beer, maintaining eye contact. “Can I get you a drink?” I set my bottle down and gave her a flirty smile. A smile that told her I was interested.

  She picked up on it. Her eyes lit up as she nodded.

  Two hours later, after the bar had nearly emptied out, we were stumbling into the winter cold, a buzz pulsing through our systems after too many drinks. I felt good, really fucking good, especially since Amy, insurance agent, five-foot-two and stacked, was tucked under my arm. She giggled as I led her the few blocks to my place.

  “Stop.” She laughed and pulled out from underneath my arm. Fuck. Was she putting the brakes on this? I’d invested two hours already and she was what I'd been looking for, easy to talk to, willing, sexy. She didn’t make my heart clench with need and pain and happiness, an odd combo that Mia had inflicted from day one, but she was the best I’d found since.

  “Just another block.” I ran a hand through my hair and looked up to the dark sky, snow flurries dancing in the yellow of the streetlamp. Just then, a ball of snow whipped past my head. The fog cleared for a moment as my eyes focused on Amy, another snowball in her hands, a cheeky grin on her face.

  “No shit.” I grinned and then angled for her, my hands grabbing her wrists, trying to block her from throwing her snowball. She fought and squealed and giggled as I pushed her up against the red brick of the business behind her.

  “Ridge!” She squirmed against the brick and freed her hand to push the snow down the collar of my jacket.

  “Fuck!” I roared and shuddered, trying to flick the cold away. “You’re going to pay for that,” I growled and pressed my body into hers, my dick growing in my pants as I locked one hand around her wrist and smoothed another along her neck to cup her jaw. I dusted my lips across hers, teasing her as she groaned and writhed, pressing her body against mine, all thought of the snowball fight forgotten.

  “You’re beautiful,” I murmured against her lips before pressing my forehead to hers and allowed my eyes to flutter closed. I breathed her in. The perfume she’d worn tonight, the soft smell of the shampoo in her hair. I was so fucking drunk, but she felt so fucking good. Could I have with her what I'd had with Mia? A connection? Something more? Maybe. Just . . . maybe.

  “Take me to your place.”

  “Mmm . . .” I rumbled in her ear, nipping at her lobe.

  “Please,” she mewed beneath me as I trailed one palm down her coat-covered torso to hook at her hip and squeeze. She bucked into me and I rubbed my now painfully hard dick against her hip. Her eyes fluttered closed and her pillowy lips popped open as a soft groan escaped her throat. I ground my hips into her, one last pass to relieve the tension, before ducking my hand in the snowbank next to me and shoving it into the crook of her neck.

  “You fucker!” Her eyes flew open and she shoved at me. I grinned, my hand still holding hers, and walked backward, dragging her with me.

  “Don’t fuck with me, baby. I’ll give it back to you. Tenfold.”

  “Mmm . . .” She cocked an eyebrow, a devilish grin on her lips. “I’m counting on it.”

  My eyebrows flew up into my hairline. “We gotta go.” I squeezed her hand in mine and looked both ways down the street before dragging her across to my building.

  I fumbled with the keycard as she fondled my dick through the denim at the entryway.

  I slammed her against the wall of the elevator as we made out all the way to the fourteenth floor.

  She dropped to her knees between my body and the door of my apartment as I worked the key into the slot.

  She rubbed my dick before undoing the button and sliding the zipper down in a rush.

  “Fuck,” I growled and thrust my cock into her waiting hands. The cold chill of her small hands against the hot heat of my shaft had a shiver of pleasure running up my spine.

  She sucked the tip into her mouth and then went to fucking town. Sucking like a vacuum, moaning as she did it. My brain fogged up, getting the key in the slot was forgotten as I fisted a hand into her hair. I let her suck my dick for a few minutes, thrust in and out, gripped her hair, forcing her to deep throat before a door slammed down the hall.

  “Christ.” I turned my head and didn't see anyone. Hopefully, they hadn’t seen us, although my drunk-ass brain didn't care much either way. It wasn't like it would be the first time they’d seen me about to get laid.

  I twisted the key, finally hearing the lock click, and pulled Amy up my body. We stumbled into the apartment and I haphazardly kicked the door shut behind us.

  She unzipped her coat, maintaining eye contact, pulling it down slowly as she backed into my place. She didn’t even turn to take in the surroundings like most women did.

  She was here to fuck and it made me all the harder.

  “Couch.” I nodded behind her as I took my coat off, pulled my shirt over my head, and advanced on her. Brown eyes widened for a moment as I moved in, kicking off my shoes, pulling my socks, and tossing them aside. “Get naked.”

  It took a minute for her brain to register what I’d said. Her eyes darkened, her cheeks pinked up, and then she pulled the shirt over her head and shimmied out of her tight jeans, standing before me in a lacy bra and panties.

  “Off.” I nodded at her bra and panties.

  “You first.” Her voice was low and throaty and went straight to my dick.

  “Not how this works. You. Naked. Now.”

  She worked my words over in her mind before unclasping her bra, tossing it on the floor, and pulling her panties down her legs.

  She was fucking hot. Creamy, porcelain skin, all soft dips and hollows. I wanted to dig my fingers into her hips and squeeze. Leave marks. Fuck her so hard she’d be speechless and still feel me in the morning.

  I stepped closer, just my jeans on, crowding her space, but not yet touching her. I trailed one hand up her body, over her stomach, between her tits, before fingering her collarbone and then wrapping my palm around her neck. I tightened and pulled her lips to mine in a punishing kiss.

  I held her tight to me, fisted my other hand in her hair, and tugged so tightly that a squeak of pain escaped her throat.

  I felt her throat moving under my hand as she swallowed. I increased the pressure, enjoying the feel of the soft flesh, one of the most delicate spots on her body, underneath me.

  I growled and dragged my teeth across her bottom lip and nipped before I let go. Her eyes shot open, my hand tight at her throat. I pulled her tighter against me. I saw the fear in her eyes.

  This is the part I loved.

  The fear.

  The fucking.

  The taking.

  This is what made it different. Chased the memories of Mia aw
ay. Mia welcomed the fight. She was fearless, and the only way I could think to escape her, was engaging the fear, walking the line and dancing with the devil.

  I whipped Amy around and bent her over the arm of the couch. I squeezed the flesh of her ass, pushing, kneading my fingers, leaving red fingerprints on her white skin.

  She was beautiful and soft and sweet and I wanted to corrupt her. Make her feel. And in making her feel, lose myself. I wanted to let go, let the animal out, and fuck her like she’d never been fucked.

  I pulled the zipper down on my pants. At the sound of the teeth parting, her ass wiggled in anticipation. A grin lit my lips as I smacked her ass, hard as I could, the flesh trembling, a fiery handprint left in my wake. She yelped and whipped her head around, hair trailing behind her in a mass of waves.

  “Turn around,” I growled. She complied as I dragged one finger up the length of her pussy. Dripping fucking wet. For me. So fucking sweet and wet and ready.

  I pulled a condom from my pocket, released my dick from my pants and tore the foil and rolled it on as I watched her wait for me. I trailed my cock along her swollen folds, then thrust my hips flush to her ass, seating myself inside. Her back arched, the beautiful line of it enticing me to taste. I dragged my dick out of her body, slowly pulling, feeling every single hot inch of her, then slammed back in so hard her hips crushed against the arm of the couch and her fingers clawed at the cushions. I circled my hips, feeling the inside of her; the hot, tight, wet cavern fisting at my cock and pulsing around me.

  I held tight at her hips; dug my fingers in so hard, the thought crossing my mind that I wanted to break skin. Wanted to make her hurt. Make her fear me. I wanted to unleash on her, but I feared that I wouldn’t go back, couldn’t help myself, control myself when I was inside of her. I slammed into her again, drag and slam, drag and slam, slapped her ass and enjoyed the low moan as she slammed her body into mine, searching for my dick as I pulled back.

  “Stop,” I growled and squeezed at the flesh of her hips. “I run this show. I give you what I want to give you; you don’t take.”

  Her head turned. She caught my eyes and I watched fear and lust swirl in their dark depths. “Turn the fuck around.” I narrowed my eyes and teased her with slow circles of my hips. She did as she was told and braced herself. “Good girl.” I ran both hands up the curves of her torso, along her waist, the outside of her breasts, as I leaned over her naked body. My hands found her tits and grabbed. I kneaded at the flesh, pulled at the nipples, twisting, before landing one quick slap. She grunted and her body went rigid beneath me.

  “You want me to fuck you?” I bit at her earlobe. She answered me with another low moan.

  “Say it,” I gritted between my teeth.

  “Fuck me. Please, fuck me,” she said on a breathy sigh as her hips twisted, trying to feel for my cock, just hovering at her entrance.

  “Good girl.” I smacked at her full tit again and then reared back, pulled out of her, dug my hands into her skin and pushed all the way back in, my hips grating against her as I grounded and pounded, chasing the sweet release where I lost my head for a few moments in pussy.

  “This is for my pleasure, not yours,” I murmured as I slammed into her before her pussy clenched and then fired off, erupting around my throbbing dick. The feel of her body milking mine started a slow burn in my balls, before they pulled up into my body and prepared to release. The fire shot through my system, my spine, my thighs, flooding with heat, before I came in forceful spurts inside her.

  “Fuck.” My thrusts slowed as my eyes closed and I relished in the rush of endorphins that fogged my brain and had my body set to a low hum.

  Right there, that moment. Better than any high I could get from drugs. From liquor. From exercise. The buzz from coming inside of a hot, wet pussy released me like nothing else could.

  My chest heaving, I stood, my hands slowly releasing their grip on her. I slowly pulled out, yanked off the condom, and strode to the bathroom, leaving her bent over the arm of the couch and panting, recovering from the fuck I’d just given her.

  I tied off the spent condom and threw it in the trash before fiddling with the knobs for the shower, adjusting it to a hot temperature. I jumped in, washed off, not bothering to wash my hair since I’d already had a shower a few hours ago, before toweling off and walking back into the living room. I’d been in there for less than five minutes, and yet Amy had had time to get dressed and was digging through her purse at my front door.

  It was so odd, her fully dressed, me naked as the day I was born, standing in my spacious apartment, looking at each other silently.

  “You sneakin’ out?” A small grin tipped my lips. This wasn’t usually how things worked. I usually had to encourage them to leave after we’d fucked. Sleepovers were not my thing.

  “I have stuff to do in the morning,” she trailed off, zipping her jacket.

  This was the part where I needed to make a change. This was the part where I’d discovered earlier that casual fucking wasn’t working for me like it had. The only thing that had worked for me of late was being with Mia, and since that was no longer a possibility, here I was, facing the decision to continue as I’d been, running from the pain, or trying something new.

  “Stay.” The one word echoed in the room around us. My eyes held hers, blazing and intense, begging her not to ask questions. Begging her not to make this more than it was, because truth was, I didn’t know what the fuck it was. All I knew was that I was trying something different.

  “Okay.” She shrugged out of her coat slowly.

  “Sleep.” I held out a hand to her. She took it, confusion on her face, surprise marring her features. I led her silently to the bedroom and undressed her one piece of clothing at a time until she was as naked as I was. I appreciated her curves, worked my hands over her skin, ran my fingers through her soft curls, before laying her down in my bed, tucking her into my body, my front to her back, and falling to sleep with her in my arms.

  This was me doing something different, and so far . . .

  I wasn’t hating it.

  “I have to stop by the restaurant for a few minutes. Is that okay?”

  “Of course.” Amy smiled. “I can’t wait to see it.”

  “Yeah. I’ll show you around, introduce you to TJ, my chef. He’s great.”

  “He has a Michelin star right? Top honor in the culinary world. That’s amazing.”

  “Yeah, he makes this duck and cherry dish that is insanely good. I’ve never tasted anything else like it.”

  “Did he go to culinary school?”

  “That’s the crazy thing,” I said as I pulled into the parking lot at Pier 49. “He grew up in restaurants, I think his parents owned a crab shack on The Cape, but never went to school. Guy's a master.”

  I opened the door for her and we walked across the lot and through the doors of my restaurant, Pier 49.

  I was proud of this place; it was the first restaurant I’d opened. The one that had launched my career. And TJ's.

  “Great atmosphere,” Amy commented as she dropped my hand and wandered into the dining room. Only natural light filtered in through the windows that looked out over the Atlantic.

  “Thanks, I can’t take credit, I had a designer from New York do everything. TJ had his way in the kitchen.”

  “I’m in awe of everything you’ve accomplished, it couldn’t have been easy.”

  “It wasn’t. Fourteen hours a day, seven days a week was the norm for the first few years.” I led her over to the window where a tall potted plant sat in the corner soaking up all the overcast light Maine had to offer. “I never would have made it without a great team behind me. With TJ's talent and a great manager, Pier 49 was born.”

  “TJ must be so grateful.” She gazed at the ocean.

  “I’m grateful for him. The restaurant wouldn’t be what it is without his talent.”

  “Where’d you meet him?”

  “Rehab actually.” I shrugged. I'd never been se
cretive about my past with drugs. “He showed up a few days after I did, coming down off meth. That’s nasty shit, but he was still in the early stages of addiction. He was rough, but not over the edge. Once he got through withdrawal, he was my roommate. He sat in front of Food Network all fucking day. It was the most irritating thing, but his eyes were riveted and he seemed to come alive when he talked about food. It was amazing to watch.”

  “Wow. It sounds like it.”

  “You wanna meet him?”

  “I would love to.” She grinned and grabbed my hand as I lead her through the quiet dining room to the kitchen.

  “TJ Armstrong, Amy Taylor. Amy, meet the best chef in the Northeast.”

  “Nice to meet you. Ridge has told me so much.”

  “Good, I hope.” He gave her hand a quick shake, his faux Mohawk dyed a bright blue. Piercings trailed up the shell of his ear and another through his lip.

  It was a good thing he was a master at what he did, because people in these parts would find it difficult to hire someone who had so many holes in his body and ink on his skin.

  “Great things.” Amy beamed.

  “What are you making?” I nodded at the various bowls of seasonings situated in front of him.

  “Trying a blueberry sauce for the leg of lamb.”

  “Blueberry sauce?” Amy's eyes shot up.

  “Fresh Maine blueberries, balsamic, red wine. I'm still perfecting it, trying to get the perfect velvety consistency, but I think it's going to be good.”

  “Wow. You weren't kidding.” Amy turned to me and lifted an amused eyebrow.

  “He's a master.” I wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Can’t wait to try it.” I grinned at TJ. “I'll let you get back to it, I just wanted Amy to meet the man that keeps this place afloat.”

  TJ ducked his head in that bashful way he had. He couldn’t take a compliment to save his life, but that didn’t mean I didn’t keep trying.

  “I think, if it’s all right with this girl, we’ll get something for lunch. What’s on today?”