Cat licked her way down Tiff’s body, dipping her tongue into her navel before tugging the elastic band of her shorts down with her teeth.
That’s what did it.
That’s what broke him.
Ryder was on his feet and behind them in a flash. His hand fisted in Kitty Cat’s hair, wrapping the long blonde ponytail around his wrist, and jerking her back so that her body contorted into the perfect arch. She looked up at him with lust-filled eyes, awaiting his next move.
Lifting her to her feet, Ryder yanked her back to his front, and snaked his arms around her waist. He unbuttoned her pants, letting the loose-fitting jeans fall to the floor with a soft thud. His hand was like a magnet, drawn to her pussy. So warm. So wet. She dripped with need. Her arousal scented the air, making his mouth water and his dick throb. “We can kiss these, right?” he asked, nipping at her neck.
“God, yes,” she moaned. The sound was the sweetest melody he’d ever heard. Yanking at the snaps nestled between her thighs, he practically tore the lace from her body.
“Hey,” Kitty Cat gasped, “I like this shirt.”
Fuck the shirt and anything else standing in the way of his dick in her pussy. He needed to see every inch of her body, to memorize it. Ryder wanted Kitty Cat to be burned in his brain like the lyrics of his favorite song or the chords to Alice Coopers, Schools Out.
Her chest heaved up and down. Her perky tits weren’t as big as Tiff’s but they were as close to flawless as he’d ever seen. Plump and round, with little pink buds standing at attention. Her stomach was soft, flat with a scar that ran horizontally across her mid-section. He explored the raised skin. Everything about her made sense. Even her imperfections belonged.
Ryder trailed kisses down her shoulder blades and across her back before sinking to his knees behind her, grinning like an idiot when he saw the two-tiny diamond dermal piercings in the dimples of her lower back. “Fuck, this is sexy Kitty Cat,” he groaned, placing a kiss on each one before peeling off her panties. “On your knees, Tiff, tell me what she tastes like.”
Tiffany’s tongue darted out and with slow, soft strokes she lapped at Kitty Cat’s core. “Like water,” Tiff moaned, continuing her assault, her voice muffled, “but sweeter.”
His little kitten purred and stretched, her skin turned an adorable shade of pink. A thin layer of sweat coated her body as Tiff pushed her closer and closer towards the promised land. It was the most erotic thing he’d ever witnessed. Her legs began to tremble as the orgasm built in her core, but Ryder wasn’t going to let her off the hook that easy. “I didn’t say you could come,” he growled. He stood and pulled Tiffany up with him. He was punishing her for denying his kiss, and for including Tiffany in a moment that should have been reserved for him. “You don’t get to come until I say so,” he grunted, grabbing a hold of Tiff’s chin and pulling her head to his. He licked into Tiffany’s mouth savoring the sweet, slightly musky taste of the blonde. It wasn’t the same as a kiss from Kitty Cat, but it would do.
“Lay down on the couch,” he murmured against her lips. The bartender did as she was told. Ry turned, running his fingers down Cat’s stomach, “I wanna watch you eat pussy too.” Grinning, she licked her lips, nodding like a lunatic. “Enjoy this while it lasts because this will be the last time anyone but me gets to have your mouth on them, understood?”
Kitty Cat narrowed her eyes at him, but didn’t argue. Instead, she crawled on top of Tiffany and pushed her legs open as wide as she could get them, and trailed kisses up one side of her thigh and down the other. Kitty Cat’s ass was on full display as she lost herself between Tiff’s legs. Ryder leaned up against the desk, watching as she ate Tiffany’s pussy like a fucking pro. His cock was begging for attention. He held out for as long as he could, but the rock in his pants was becoming unbearable. Unzipping, Ryder pulled his dick out, and stroked his shaft slowly. The shiny metal of his Prince Albert piercing glinted in the dark room.
Her skin looked so goddamn smooth and soft, Ryder couldn’t wait another minute to get inside her. The desire to bury his cock in her wetness was too strong. He was trying to be patient, trying to let her have her fun, but he needed to fuck her. He quickly shed his clothes, grabbed a condom from his wallet, and sheathed up.
Stalking over to them, Ryder knelt on the couch behind Kitty Cat, smacking her hard on the ass. She turned and glared at him, her lips glistening with Tiffany’s arousal. “Did I tell you to stop?” he barked, positioning his dick at her entrance. He could see the snarky rebuttal on the tip of her tongue but before she could speak he rammed into her, burying himself to the hilt.
“What is that?” she gasped, pleasure etched across her face. He pulled back out, slowly, letting his piercing massage her inner walls.
“That, Kitty Cat, is your new best friend.”
“Fuck,” she groaned into Tiffany’s pussy as he drove into her from behind. She clenched around him, squeezing his dick like a vice. She felt too good, he knew the moment he penetrated her that he would never tire of her. Ryder could spend the rest of his life touching her, fucking her, eating her, and he’d die a happy man. Kitty Cat’s body tensed, her pussy constricted around his cock. Another orgasm loomed. She would never be able to fake it with him. Then again, Kitty Cat struck Ryder as the type of woman who wouldn’t hesitate to tell him if he wasn’t fucking her right.
Thrusting in and out of her once more, he paused. “Not yet.”
“We should have left you at the bar,” she panted, annoyance lacing her tone.
He spanked her again, before pulling Tiffany’s legs down. Cat crawled up her body, her knees on either side of her head. “Turn around. Face me,” he demanded.
He drove into Tiffany, mercilessly, never once breaking eye contact with Cat. It was carnal the way he fucked one woman with his cock and the other with his gaze. The physical connection with Tiffany was temporary. She was drenched. It felt fucking amazing to slide in and out of her warmth, but what really got him off was Kitty Cat. Watching her grind on Tiff’s face, her eyes locked on his. The little devil was stealing his soul and Ryder didn’t even put up a fight.
Tiff began to tense up, reminding him of her presence, “rub her clit,” he ordered, angling her body so his piercing grazed her g-spot. He needed her to come, he needed her spent so he could have Kitty Cat to himself. Tiff yelled out in pleasure, her body shook violently as he pounded into her core.
Once Tiff’s orgasm waned Ryder sprung to his feet, lifting Cat up, carrying her over to the wall. He slammed into her forcefully, filling her completely. “Fuck, Ry,” she panted, clawing at his back. He was deep and at that angle, his piercing had to be driving her insane. “Please let me come,” she begged, dragging her nails across his flesh. She drew blood but fuck if he cared, she could mark him as much as she wanted because the way her pussy felt stretched around his dick was worth the pain.
“Tell. Me. Your. Name,” he grunted between thrusts.
She shook her head. “You. Haven’t. Earned. That.”
He fucked her with everything he had. He was trying to break her, break her physically, so no other man would ever compare, and mentally, so she’d let him in.
“I want you,” he growled, inches above her lips. God he wanted to kiss her.
“You have me.”
“I’m not talking about this,” Ry said flicking her clit. He pumped into her hard, and she screamed out as she came all over his dick. Watching her come, feeling her juices drip down his shaft was enough to send him over the edge. He lost control, ramming into her wildly, spilling his seed into the condom. “I want this,” he huffed, raising his hand over her heart.
Kitty Cat shook her head, bringing it to rest on his shoulder. “You haven’t earned that either.”
Ryder focused on the brown spot staining the ceiling in his bedroom. The room was spinning and his tongue was dry. The pounding at his temples was so intense it felt like a bullet was firmly lodged in his brain.
A fucking hangover.
> His first, ever. Years of late nights and hard partying and Ryder never once woke up with more than a mild headache. He used to brag about that shit, saying it was the only thing his father ever gave him, but too many shots and a handful of bad decisions later, he found himself lying in bed praying to whoever would listen.
What the fuck was he thinking?
He’d asked himself that question at least a hundred times in the twenty minutes since he pried his eyes open, and he still couldn’t come up with a decent answer. The what paled in comparison to the who.
Three hours.
That’s how long it took for the gorgeous blonde with the sad green eyes to settle under his skin. From the moment Ryder spotted her sitting at the bar, he was a goner.
His friends always teased him, saying he was obsessed with the idea of love, but his terrible taste in women kept him jumping from one toxic relationship to the next. It was true, Ryder couldn’t deny it. He was drawn to broken things—like him—but when his last relationship ended in a temporary restraining order against his ex, he swore off the idea of monogamy once and for all.
‘Music over bitches’ was the motto he and his band mates had adopted and since then, his life was much less dramatic. Ryder lived by those words, and he thought he would die by them. Pouring all his time and energy into the band worked. They were finally starting to make a name for themselves. Everything was falling into place.
Then last night. Last-fucking-night, when Kitty Cat swept into his life like a goddamned wrecking ball, everything changed. The way her muscles clenched around his dick was beyond sex. When Ryder stared into the depths of her green eyes and watched her fall apart in his arms, he felt whole.
Ryder thought it was luck, getting to fuck her and Tiff at the same time, but he should have known better. He was cursed, the only man on earth to walk away from a threesome unfulfilled. He had left for five fucking minutes to throw away the condom and take a leak, and when he got back, she’d vanished. He didn’t know her name, her number, or any way to get in contact with her. He bought all her drinks, so he couldn’t even ask Tiff for the name on her tab. Ryder didn’t know anything about her, other than what her pussy tasted like. She was just gone, and as soon as he realized she wasn’t coming back, he sat at the bar and drank himself into a near coma. He didn’t remember coming home, much less how he got there.
Ryder sat up, bracing himself. Once the room stopped spinning, he swung his legs over the side of his bed and forced himself to his feet. His bladder was threatening to explode and pissing the bed would only serve to remind him how much of a tool he was being. Stumbling out into the hallway, the sounds of laughter alerted him that he was the last to wake. He headed for the bathroom, took the most satisfying piss in the history of pissing, then washed his hands. “Shit,” he groaned, staring at his reflection in the mirror. Blond hair was stuck to the side of his face, and his eyes were bloodshot.
Pulling his hair into a bun on the top of his head, he ran a wash cloth under the warm stream of water and did his best to wipe the crust from his eyes and mouth. He still felt like death, but hopefully he looked a little better.
“Look at this dirty-dick motherfucker,” Javi teased as Ryder walked into the living room. His band mates, roommates, and best friends were sitting in a haze of thick white smoke, watching ESPN. He plopped down beside Javi on the couch as CT eyed him from the brown leather recliner to the left.
“Fuck you,” Ry grunted, reaching for the blunt. Wake and bake, the best cure for nausea there was. Inhaling deeply, smoke filled his lungs. “What time is it?” he asked.
“Almost two,” CT answered.
“I’ve got to get ready for work,” Ryder grumbled, taking another puff.
Javi held his hand out for Ryder to pass the blunt. “You going to make it through your shift, bro? ‘Cause you look like shit.”
“I feel like shit,” he admitted, stretching his hands over his head. His body creaked with every move he made. He was getting too old for this shit.
“What the fuck happened to your back?” CT asked, pushing him around to get a better look at the angry scratches.
Ryder chuckled recalling exactly how he earned those claw marks. “Last night was fucking insane.”
“Dude,” Javi grinned, “how does your sensitive ass always end up getting all the pussy?”
“It’s ‘cause he’s the lead singer,” CT added. “Javi, pass the blunt.”
“Last time I checked, you assholes weren’t hurting for any.”
The three of them were young, talented, and spent as much time in the gym working on their bodies as they did in the garage working on their music. Ryder may have been the lead singer, but in truth, they all pulled their fair share of pussy.
Being them didn’t suck.
“Yeah, but a threesome with Tiff and the hot blonde chick? That’s some real rock star shit right there,” Javi exhaled, passing the blunt back to CT.
“You didn’t happen to get her friend’s number, did you?” Ry asked, nearly forgetting he tasked Javi with taking care of Lo.
Was Lo her first name or last?
“Nah, we just made out a little while we waited for her Uber. Why?”
“I didn’t get Kitty Cat’s name or number or anything,” he said, taking another deep pull from the weed filled cigar.
“So?” Javi said.
Ryder sighed, he knew where this conversation was headed and he didn’t have the energy to listen to them talk shit. “I should get ready for work.”
“¡Ay Dios mío! Tell me you didn’t?” Javi asked, his Mexican-American roots peeking through.
Ryder stood, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Fuck them. So, what, he liked her. Why was that such a bad fucking thing?
“You did, didn’t you? Can you believe this?” Javi asked, turning to CT.
“I don’t have time for this shit, I’ve gotta get ready.”
“You would fall in love off a threesome,” CT chuckled. He laughed so hard he started coughing.
“I’m not in love. I just…there’s something about her.”
“You’re fucking hopeless.”
“Fuck you both,” he grunted, stomping up the stairs. He wasn’t in love, he just wanted more.
The whooshing and swooshing sound of the dishwasher taunted Ryder as he walked through the kitchen at Cibo, the upscale Italian restaurant where he occasionally bussed tables. Music was Ryder’s life, but it didn’t pay the bills. Before getting the job at the restaurant, he worked at a call center, and before that, a coffee shop, and before that, a retail pet store. His job before the pet store wasn’t exactly legal.
Eight long months and he was quite possibly the world’s worst busser, but it wasn’t like he’d been hired for his bussing skills anyway. Ryder, like most of the staff, was hired strictly based on his appearance. The owners, a husband and wife in their mid-sixties, collected beautiful employees like other people collected baseball cards. That was the point, the gimmick. The food was shit, the service was worse, but the front-end staff all looked like they belonged on the cover of a magazine. They were the reason Cibo managed a little over three hundred reservations a day.
Setting a tub of dirty plates on the belt, Ryder leaned back against the counter with a huff. His head was pounding, and the heat from the kitchen wasn’t helping his dizziness. He should have just called out, but even though Lithium Springs played their best show to date the night before, rent was still due on the first. CT and Javi covered his ass last month and he couldn’t ask them to do it again. Once they split the little bit of money they made from the door, Ryder barely had enough to put gas in his bike and buy himself a Super Value Meal.
“You look like shit,” Oscar, Head Dishwasher, and resident smart ass said.
“Why the fuck does everyone keep telling me that? I know. I had a long fucking night,” Ryder snapped, tugging at the neck of his black t-shirt.
“I forgot the show was last night,
how was it?” Oscar asked, running a tray through the machine.
“It was cool. I’m hurting today, though.”
“You know what they say, don’t you?”
“What?”
Oscar pulled a silver flask from his back pocket. “You gotta bite the hairy dog, cabrón.”
“I think you mean, bite the hair of the dog that bit you,” Ryder corrected, eyeing the flask. The thought of drinking right now made him want to vomit, but he took it anyway, figuring there was no way he could feel any worse. Ryder tipped back the flask. The liquid burned going down. “What the fuck is this? Rocket fuel?” he choked.
“Moonshine. I made it myself,” Oscar said proudly.
Sweat dotted Ryder’s brow. Between the moonshine and the steam from the dishwasher he felt like he was trapped in a fucking sauna. “You’re trying to kill me, dude.”
Oscar grinned, “It will put some hair on your balls, pretty boy.”
“My balls are plenty hairy, just ask your wife,” Ryder quipped, taking another swig from the flask before handing it back. “Thanks man. I should get back out there.”
“Don’t mention it. Oh, and Ry?”
“Huh?”
“Tell your mom I’ll be over around seven.”
“Fuck you, Oscar.” Ryder snatched an empty tub from the other end of the belt and pushed his way back out onto the restaurant floor. Another table got up to leave and Ryder went to work clearing the few remaining dishes.
Although he’d never admit it, Oscar’s hairy dog moonshine was working for his hangover. Too bad it couldn’t solve his Kitty Cat problem.
How could he find someone without a name or a phone number?
Ryder racked his brain, wiping down the table, lost in thought. What was it about that girl? Were his friends right? Was he hopeless? It was stupid. He didn’t even know her. Why was she so special?
Lithium Waves: A Lithium Springs Novel Page 3