by A. S. Teague
She whirls around. “None of my business?”
“No. It’s. Not.” I punctuate each word. “Go home,” I bark. Stomping around the hood of my car, I brush past her. Then I yank my car door open and climb inside. I pull on the handle to shut it, but she grabs the window frame, stopping me.
“Fuck you, Ryker!” she shouts, jabbing a brightly painted finger at my chest. “You can’t bark orders at me and think I’ll obey them like I’m some fucking dog.”
“No, fuck this, Rebecca. You can’t be a prying bitch and just expect me to spill my guts to you like I’m some pussy-whipped asshole.”
Her head snaps back as though I’ve physically slapped her, and her eyes widen. Regret instantly washes over me, the hurt on her face consuming me. I reach for her, but she takes a step back and puts a hand up.
“Don’t,” she snaps.
“Look, I––”
She shakes her head again and yells, “I said don’t!” She takes a deep breath and then, evenly, she says, “I don’t know what the fuck happened back there or why you’re suddenly a surly asshole, but I don’t like it. This isn’t you.”
I drop my head. “You’re––”
Speaking over me, she says, “As much as I love a good fight, I’m going to bow out of this one.” She sniffles and runs a finger under one eye. “Goodnight, Ryker.”
She slams my door shut, and the sudden silence roars in my ears. I watch her walk back toward the gym, her shoulders hunched over. She fumbles with the door, and I war with myself to keep from getting out and chasing after her.
She’s quickly become more important to me than I could have ever imagined, and I can’t trust myself not to tell her everything she wants to know. Not that she’d believe anything I told her. But I know I need to tell her soon. I don’t think I can stomach seeing the spark in her eyes die out again the way it did tonight.
Once she’s safely inside, I start the engine of the Chevelle and put it into gear. Slamming the gas, I squeal the tires as I pull out of the parking lot.
Fuck this.
My phone dings, alerting me that I have a text. I snatch it off the table. I haven’t heard from Ryker since our fight last night, and even though I am still pissed at him for calling me a bitch––again––I hope it’s him.
Disappointed to see it’s just Tripp asking if I spared the family my terrible cooking, I type out a terse reply and then toss my phone onto the counter. Checking the clock, I see that it’s time to leave for my parents’ cookout.
Reluctantly, I grab Prince’s leash. “Here, boy. You wanna go see Nana and Papa?”
His butt begins wiggling, and I have to chase him around to get him leashed.
I couldn’t have known when I told Ryker that he belonged in the cage that he’d have the reaction he did. I instantly felt guilty that my simple statement had brought up feelings he’d obviously buried. But the guilt was quickly replaced by anger when he snapped at me. He’s been so tight-lipped about his suspension that there was no way for me to know that talking about it would hurt him the way it did.
I don’t have it in me to go to my parents’ house and put on a happy face, especially knowing that Tripp and Breccan will be there asking questions. I’d rather wallow in my hurt at home, on the couch. But I know that, if I don’t show up, everyone will worry, and they’ll still ask the questions I don’t have the answers to.
Sighing, I try my best to push it to the back of my mind, deciding that I’ll worry about it after I get lunch over with.
With Prince’s leash in one hand and my purchased potato salad in the other, I pull the front door open. I’m looking into my purse, rummaging for my keys, when Prince begins straining against his collar.
“Hang on!” I murmur, still searching through my messy bag.
But he doesn’t listen and begins pulling harder, whining loudly.
“Jesus, Prince, just a minute!”
“Need some help?” a deep voice asks.
My stomach flutters, and snapping my head up, I find Ryker standing in the doorway, a large bowl in his hands.
“Uhhh, what are you doing here?” I stutter.
He looks down at his empty wrist and then gives a quick shake of his head before replying, “The cookout? It’s today, right?”
I nod. “Yeah, but I didn’t think you were still coming.”
He holds up the bowl in his hands. “Couldn’t subject your family to bad potato salad, could I?” He shifts the bowl to one hand in order to grab Prince’s leash. “Here. I’ll take the monster.”
Blinking in disbelief, I dig back into my purse. With my attention torn between finding my keys and watching Ryker out of the corner of my eye, it takes me a few minutes to locate my pink-sequined key fob. “Victory,” I mumble, pulling the door shut behind me.
We walk in awkward silence to my car. Or at least it’s awkward for me. Ryker, on the other hand, looks like the definition of comfortable.
Once Prince has curled his mammoth body into the backseat, I slam the door shut and turn to Ryker. “Listen, about last night––”
He interrupts. “No, don’t apologize.”
I put a hand on my hip. “Apologize? I wasn’t going to apologize.” I let out a humorless laugh. “God, you’re infuriating. You know that?”
He pinches the bridge of his nose, his eyes closing as he blows out a breath. “That makes two of us.”
I let that comment slide. “What I was going to say before you so rudely interrupted me was that I don’t appreciate the way you spoke to me last night. You may not want to tell me things, and while it aggravates me, it’s your right. But it isn’t your right to bark orders at me and call me a bitch.”
He grabs my hand, and I try to pull away, but his grasp is tight.
“You’re right, doll.”
Nope. Too easy.
“I’m right? Did you even hear me?.”
“I heard you. Can you forgive me?”
“Forgive you?”
“Baby, I’m pretty sure we speak the same language. But I’m sure I can find a dictionary if you need it.”
I narrow my eyes at him, but it only makes him grin. Damn it! How am I supposed to stay mad at him with that grin?
“You promise to talk to me when you’re upset about something?” I ask quietly.
He frowns. “No.”
I pull my hand from his and place them on my hips. “No?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”
There’s a small part of me that wants to slap him in the head for being such a guy. But the majority of my brain respects him for at least being honest with me.
I huff and say, “Fine. Will you promise to at least talk to me if it’s something I’ve done to upset you? Communication is really important to me. The only thing more important is you always being honest with me.”
A relationship is nothing more than a ticking time bomb without open and honest communication. If he can’t agree to tell me when he’s unhappy with me, then there may not be much point in continuing a relationship with him. And, since he’s made it clear that we are most definitely in a relationship, I need to know we’re on the same page.
Is it too soon to be thinking long term with him?
He grabs my hands, lacing his fingers in mine, and leans his forehead to mine. “That I can do.” He tilts his head and flashes me another grin, repeating, “Sooo, can you forgive me?”
Whispering, I ask, “Will you ever tell me about it?”
He cuts his gaze away from mine. “One day.”
Despite the fact that I want to stay mad at him, I can’t, so I nod. His face breaks into a grin, and he swoops in, his lips crashing into mine.
His tongue brushes my lips, and I open my mouth. His tongue glides against mine, which causes me to moan into his mouth. I run my fingers through his hair, relishing the feel of it in my hands.
Abruptly, I pull away and arch an eyebrow at him. “Don’t think you can kiss me and all will be for
gotten. I said I forgive you, but you’re still in trouble.”
He smirks. “I’m in trouble, huh?”
“Mmmhmm.” I nod.
He leans in and whispers in my ear, “Maybe you should punish me, then.”
I groan. “You’re terrible, you know that?” Giving him a shove, I say, “Let’s go. We’re gonna be late.”
Tripp and my parents spend the afternoon embarrassing me and entertaining Ryker. I’ve never wanted to commit bodily harm to a person more than I want to hurt my brother. He’s made it a point to tell Ryker every embarrassing story about me from our childhood, and my parents have enabled him by breaking out photo albums that displayed their terrible fashion sense and my horrible smile before braces.
After eating and drinking for several hours, I finally beg for mercy, and we leave just as it’s getting dark. But not before my mom pulls me aside to tell me that, if I don’t hang on to Ryker, she will disown me. I roll my eyes, but then she gives me that “mom” look and I know she’s serious. I tell her I am going to try my best, that he has a tendency to get all alpha on me, and I am not quite sure how I like it. When mom so disgustingly informs me that she personally loves being bossed around, especially in the bedroom, I have to swallow hard to avoid puking all over my pink wedges. I do not need mental images of my parents in the bedroom.
After pouring myself some wine at home, I carry a glass and pad into the living room. Settling on the couch, I tuck my feet beneath me and absently say, “So, my parents liked you. My mom threatened me, actually.”
He smirks. “Clearly, they have great taste. They seem like really great people.”
“Yeah. If you like being humiliated, I guess you could say that.”
“Aw, come on, doll. You were a cute kid. Even if you had SpongeBob teeth and a mullet.”
I grab the pillow beside me and throw it at his head.
He dodges it and laughs. “You aren’t gonna offer me a beer?”
My eyebrows nearly hit my hairline. “Is this a trick question? You trying to see if I pay attention? You don’t drink when you’re driving. Remember?” I throw air quotes up. “Not even a drop.”
He grabs my legs, pulling them from under my ass, and I slide down the couch. After crawling on all fours, he hovers over me, takes the glass of wine from my hand, and sets it on the coffee table. “I’m not driving tonight.”
“Ha!” I scoff. “Yes, you are!”
He lowers his face until it hovers over mine and whispers, “Stayin’ here tonight, baby.”
I furiously shake my head back and forth. “Not. A. Chance.”
My heart pounds as he dips his head and lightly kisses me on the forehead. He trails kisses over to my ear before pulling my lobe between his teeth and nipping. When his tongue brushes the hollow space behind my ear, my body involuntarily arches, and I moan.
“You’re playing dirty,” I groan.
Between kisses along my neck, he murmurs, “Learned from the best.”
As he continues his descent down my body, I argue, “I don’t want you to stay. I’m still mad at you.”
My protests sound weak, even to my own ears.
His head rises, and he looks at me. “If you want me to stop, tell me now.” His eyes are hooded, his gaze lusty. I don’t even hesitate before shaking my head.
“Stop and I’ll cut you,” I breathe.
A low rumble erupts from his chest. “Well, when you ask so nicely…” he trails off, placing his lips on my collarbone and licking.
“God, your tongue,” I moan, fisting a handful of his hair and holding his head in place.
He looks back up at me and winks. “What tongue?” He pulls the top of my T-shirt down, exposing the lace of my bra, and slowly runs his tongue along the edge of the fabric. “This tongue?” he murmurs.
“Mmmm. That’s the one,” I pant.
After releasing the neck of my shirt, he grabs the hem and, in one quick motion, pulls it over my head. Pushing up to his knees, he glances at me before reaching his arms around me and unhooking my bra. I push the straps down my shoulders and allow them to fall from my arms.
His eyes darken as they roam my bare chest. “Fuck, you’re sexy,” he whispers. Dipping his head, he licks and sucks along the swell of my breasts before pulling a nipple into his mouth.
“God,” I breathe. My body arches in protest when he releases my nipple and kisses his way to my other breast.
He chuckles. “No, not God. Just Ryker.”
“Shut up and keep going, just Ryker.” I giggle.
“Yes, ma’am,” he retorts, saluting me.
As he goes back to kissing my belly, I close my eyes, relishing in the warmth of his tongue. He pulls at the waist of my shorts, and I lift my hips, letting him strip both my panties and shorts down my legs.
Completely naked underneath him, I don’t feel the slightest bit self-conscious. As his hands run up my thighs, I shiver. He touches me in all the right places, as though we’ve been doing this for years.
He nestles his head between my legs, and his scruff rubs along my inner thighs. His warm breath on my core causes me to shake, and with the first swipe of his tongue, my eyes fly open. He licks my folds, avoiding the sensitive nub. He continues to tease me, kissing and sucking everything but my clit until I let out a frustrated growl.
Grabbing two handfuls of his hair, I hold his head in place. He finally stops his torture, and his tongue slowly makes its way from my opening to my clit.
“Yesssssss,” I moan loudly. My hips begin moving in rhythm with the strokes of his tongue, and all too soon, my body begins pulsing. Not ready to orgasm, I gently push on his head, but he gives it a quick shake and continues his relentless rhythm. I’ve never appreciated his being stubborn more.
I writhe beneath him, unsure if I’m begging to go faster or still asking him to slow down.
Seconds later, the most intense orgasm of my life washes over me. “Fuck, Ryker!” I shout.
As my body stills, Ryker’s licks slow, but he doesn’t stop. Instead, he gently pushes a finger inside me, causing my hips to buck.
Using his thumb and forefinger on his other hand, he rolls my nipple. It’s only a matter of moments before another orgasm builds.
Ryker releases my breast and pulls his finger out, sitting up.
Panting, I whimper. “Wha––” I stop when he peels his shirt over his head.
His body is nothing short of a work of art, the muscles of his arms hard and defined. Pushing up on an elbow, I take a moment to appreciate his dedication to the gym before raking my fingernails down his chest.
I sit up all the way and push on one of his pecs, and he takes the hint, lying back. Wasting no time, I tug at the button on his jeans.
When I’m greeted by nothing more than flesh, I arch an eyebrow and ask, “Commando, huh?”
The corners of his mouth tip up. “Easier access.”
He could say that again. I make quick work of dragging them down his thick legs.
His cock is long and hard. Leaning down, I run my tongue along the side from base to tip, and Ryker rewards me with a guttural groan.
Circling the tip with my tongue, I take a page out of his book and tease him, not taking him in my mouth until he begs.
“Rebecca, please.”
Putting him out of his misery, I seal my lips around his cock and take him all the way to my throat before slowly gliding back up.
“Jesus fuck,” he groans, thrusting a hand into the back of my hair.
I quicken my pace, beginning a relentless rhythm. My fist is at the base of his cock while my tongue glides and sucks. Well before I’m ready to stop, he hooks his hands under my arms, pulling me up his chest.
Leaning over, he grabs his wallet and retrieves a condom.
“You come prepared, I see?” I state with a teasing side-eye.
“I haven’t come––yet. But you have,” he murmurs wickedly.
I kiss his neck as he rolls the condom down his thick shaft.
/> “Yeah, I did,” I breathe seductively, clenching my thighs together in an attempt to quell the ache between them. “Thanks to you and your magical fucking tongue. You should really have that thing insured in case anything ever happens to it. It would be a tragedy to lose something so talented.”
“I’ll call the insurance company first thing Monday morning.” His hands settle on my hips.
I inch forward until I’m hovering over him. His tongue snakes out to dampen his lips as I guide him to my opening.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, but it quickly turns into a groan.
Pressing down, I take him inside with one thrust. I cry out, relishing the feeling of him stretching me. I lean forward, placing my hands on either side of his head, my breasts brushing his bare chest, and begin rocking back and forth. With his hands on my hips, my pace quickens, and within moments, I’m on the brink of another earth-shattering orgasm.
“Oh, God, I’m gonna come again!” I gasp, my muscles clenching around him.
His fingers dig into my hips, and he drives up, deep inside me, one last time before biting out a curse. “Goddammit, Rebecca.”
The sensation of him pumping and twitching inside me only serves to send me reeling. My own orgasm rips through me, causing me to shudder before collapsing onto his chest as I ride it out. His lips against the side of my face awaken me from the sexual fog.
“Fuck, we should have done that sooner,” I murmur, circling his nipple with my fingernail.
His chest vibrates with laughter, and he wraps an arm around my waist, kissing the top of my head. “Does this mean I can stay?” he asks.
I lift my head and say, “I don’t know, old man. Think you can do that again?”
He rolls me to the side, wedging me between his body and the back of the couch. Then he places my hand on his still-thick cock. “You tell me, doll.”
Giggling, I pull my hand from his and sift my fingers through his hair. “Let’s take it to the bedroom.”
He nods and says, “The bedroom’s a good place to start. But, ever since you opened the door in your Christmas pajamas, I’ve been envisioning taking you against that wall.” He points to the entryway hall.