“No, dude, it was probably invented by someone who had a surplus of expiring pineapple chunks,” Javi reasoned.
“I know a way to settle this.” Jamie reached over to the table and grabbed her phone. “Let me introduce you to my good friend, Google.”
“Boo,” Ryder grunted, taking the phone from her hand, “that’s cheating.”
Her initial instinct was to lunge at him. Her phone was like a vital organ; she needed it to survive. Deciding against violence, she asked, “How?”
“Because half the fun is in the debate, smartphones ruin that.”
“Here we go,” CT said with a roll of his eyes.
“Dude,” Javi groaned, “I thought you wanted her to like you?”
“What?” Jamie looked around the room. She wasn’t sure what they were talking about. She was still reeling from the knowledge that this seemingly perfect man liked fruit on his pizza.
“He’s anti-technology,” CT explained. “He still has a flip phone.”
“What?!” Jamie asked incredulously, shuffling off his lap. “A fucking flip phone? They still make those?” She hadn’t seen a flip phone since middle school. She knew there had to be a catch. He couldn’t be this hot, and this talented, and this sweet, without something being amiss. Jamie thought it was Napoleon. She was wrong.
Ryder reached into his pocket, pulled out the little silver phone, and waved it in the air. “Smart phones are a waste of money. This does everything I need it to do.”
“Now, I really can’t believe I let you fuck me,” Jamie said plucking the phone from his hand. “This thing belongs in a museum. Does it even have a camera?”
“Yes, smart ass.”
“But how do you stay connected, social media, the internet, GPS? I use my phone for everything.”
“I don’t do social media.”
Jamie gasped, taking personal offense to that last revelation. She wasn’t as active online as she once was, blame the social media clause of her contract with WSEA-9, but still. “Who the fuck are you? Are you a serial killer? Is he a serial killer?”
“Shit,” Javi chuckled, “maybe that’s it.”
Ryder took the phone and tossed it on the table, then lifted Jamie back onto his lap. “I just don’t see the point. I’m more for authentic interactions, not typing ”lol” over things that are mildly amusing at best.”
“You are a serial killer,” she groaned.
“Okay, okay,” CT exclaimed, jumping to his feet, “according to Wikipedia the first person to bastardize pizza with pineapples was some Canadian chef. So, it looks like Javi is probably right.”
“I knew it,” Javi grinned falling back into the couch, “I fucking knew it.”
Ryder’s lips jutted out in a pout that rivaled Derek Zoolander. “You can all go to hell.”
“I’ll go anywhere as long as there’s Wifi, Napoleon,” Jamie smiled, rubbing her nose against his.
“And I’ll go anywhere as long as you’re there,” he murmured, returning her Eskimo kiss.
“Stop,” she whispered, “you’re being weird again.”
An hour and three large pizzas later, the game Jamie insisted they watch was now going into overtime, and she was squirming in her seat. When she suggested they stay downstairs it was because she needed time to sort through her conflicting emotions, but who could think after spending two hours with Ryder’s hands and mouth exploring nearly every inch of her body.
“I have a confession to make,” Jamie said nipping at his earlobe. In her twenty-four years on this planet Jamie had never been the touchy-feely type, but she couldn’t help herself around the guitarist.
He angled his head, giving her better access, his eyes focused on the screen. “Hmm?”
“I liked the bastard pizza,” she whispered, kissing, then biting his jaw.
That earned her a slow, sexy grin. “Trust me Kitty Cat, I’ll never steer you astray.”
“It’s not you that I’m worried about.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Nothing,” she mouthed.
Jamie regretted the words as soon as they left her lips. They were having fun. It was nice, normal, and she couldn’t help but think she just Jamie’d it up. She allowed herself to get too comfortable in his space, with his friends. She was stupid for pretending this wouldn’t end in ashes.
Ryder studied her. “Tell me what’s going on up there, Kitty Cat.”
“Nothing. Now I’m the one being weird. Watch the end of the game. Forget I said anything.”
“You want to head upstairs?” he asked, pulling her finger from her mouth. She didn’t even realize she’d been gnawing on it. This man was turning her inside out, exposing her bones, seeing right through to her skeleton.
“Yes, but not to talk.”
“James,” he said, his voice pleading. He wanted her to let him in.
It was a fair request, but it was one she couldn’t accommodate. So Jamie did what Jamie did best, self-destruct. “I could just leave,” she suggested. She didn’t come to the other side of town to talk about her feelings, she came for sex.
Ryder’s jaw ticked in annoyance. Wordlessly reaching for her hand, he pulled her to her feet. He was pissed at her for shutting down, and she was pissed at him for pushing. They were two live grenades, ready to explode, in more ways than one.
“You’re leaving now?” Javi asked, as they walked past. “There’s only a few minutes left in the game.”
“Let me know how it ends,” Ryder grunted.
Nervous energy flooded her body as she stumbled behind him, up the stairs and into his bedroom. Jamie swallowed against the mixture of lust and trepidation caught in her throat as the door slammed shut behind them. She was anxious—for the sex—for the argument. Tension billowed into the air like a thick fog on a spring morning. It was kind of their thing, the push and the pull, the fighting and the fucking, she was quickly becoming addicted to it, to him.
Jamie stepped into the room, ignoring the heated gaze on her back. It was different than she expected, warm and inviting, a sharp contrast to the frat vibe of the rest of the house. The lighting was dim, the walls covered in artwork, and the dresser housed a display of succulents.
“Why all the cactuses?” she asked, her ire temporarily forgotten.
“Because they are the survivors of the plant world. They’re found in the harshest environments, under the most barren conditions and yet they thrive. They’re fighters.”
Ryder’s room, like him, was the perfect mix of masculine and feminine. It was decorated in deep, rich colors, with leather and wooden accents, but the plants and the art, gave way to his sensitive side. He was the type of man to fuck a woman within an inch of her life, then hold her, and tell her it would be alright. He was sunshine and rain, and Lucifer and Gabriel, all wrapped up into one tattooed package.
“Is this your mom?” she asked stopping in front of an oil painting of a blonde woman in a waitress uniform. She was hauntingly beautiful, sad with a quiet strength. Jamie only met her briefly, but the resemblance was uncanny.
“Yeah,” Ryder answered coming up behind her. He snaked his arms around her waist, his erection poking her in the back. He either wasn’t mad anymore, or he planned on taking his anger out on her body. Jamie was good with both options.
“Did you do this?” she asked, tipping her chin towards the canvas.
“I did them all,” he murmured into her ear. His smell, a mix of Ryder and weed, overwhelmed her. His body was warm and hard, and set her skin ablaze. Jamie’s attraction to him was unnatural. He was the modern Renaissance man: he sang, played the guitar, painted, and fucked her until she saw stars.
“The more you know,” she said more to herself than to him.
“I’d like to know you, and why you said what you said downstairs.”
“And I’d like you to fuck me,” she countered, stomping all over that self-destruct button.
Ryder’s grip tightened on her hips. “Jamie,” he warned.
Ryder ran his fingers through his wavy blond hair. He searched her face, looking for some sort of understanding, and she searched his, imploring him to have patience. They stood in silence for so long, she considered putting her shirt back on.
Just as she was about to admit defeat, he barked, ”Pants too.”
Dropping the shirt, Jamie peeled off her slacks, then reached behind herself to unclasp her bra. The straps slid down her arms in slow motion, and the bra fell to the top of the pile of her other clothes. Next, Jamie hooked her thumbs under the strings of her bikini briefs and stepped out of those too.
She stood bared to him, feeling a strange mix of pride and insecurity as he stared at her with lust filled eyes. Her hand ghosted up her stomach, hovering over her scar. She hated it. A painful reminder that she’d been broken and stitched back together, but they forgot a piece. She’d never truly be whole again.
Ryder walked around to her front, running a hand across her torso. His rough fingertips brushed her scar and Jamie took an involuntary step back. “Come here,” he commanded, and the look on his face told her not to argue. She did as she was told, her body again reacting without consent from her brain. “Stop running,” he growled into her neck.
“I can’t make any promises. I’m…I,” Jamie struggled for the words, “I’m just not accustomed to someone wanting more from me than—”
“This?” he asked slipping a finger into her sex. She nodded, dropping her head to his shoulder. He pushed the long digit in and out of her body, swirling it around and around. “This is mine now,” he said, adding a second finger. “And this,” he pulled his fingers, slick with her arousal, from her core then slid them between her ass cheeks, and rubbed her there. He made his intention clear, not penetrating, but applying a slight pressure. She jumped at the sensation of his finger exploring the tight ring. Jamie had anal before but didn’t care for it. With Ryder, though, she might be up for trying again. “And this, too” he continued, placing his other hand over her heart.
Jamie inhaled, and exhaled, chanting her affirmations. She tried not to freak out and go all crazy Jamie.
“I’m not going to push, but I’m not going to play games or bullshit you either. I’m all in and I don’t give a fuck if it’s too soon to say that shit, it’s how I feel.”
“Okay,” she nodded.
If Jamie weren’t as emotionally stunted as she was, she probably would have echoed his sentiments. She felt the pull, but unlike Ryder, she resisted. Commitment was for dreamers, and Jamie didn’t have the luxury of living with her head in the clouds.
Ryder gripped Jamie by the waist and spun her around. His fingertips trailed down her spine, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “I love these,” he said, brushing his thumbs across her Venus piercing. “Do you have anymore?”
She shook her head, grateful for the change of subject, “No, but I thought about getting my nipples done. Did it hurt?” she asked.
His hands continued their exploration down to her butt. “Like a bitch, but worth it.” He massaged her, pushing and pulling her ass, applying just enough pressure to make her core clench.
“What about the other one?” The mention of it made her shudder. He was right, his Prince Albert was her new favorite thing.
Ryder smirked darkly and instead of answering he barked, ”Get on your knees, Kitty Cat.”
Jamie dropped to the ground. She unbuttoned his jeans and dragged them down his thighs. His erection sprang free, and she stared, head to head, with the most beautiful cock she’d ever seen. She knew he was big, she felt it last time, but seeing it up close was breathtaking.
Sex god was fitting. She couldn’t take her eyes off it. The tip was wide and smooth, with two silver balls sticking out at the top and through the head. The shaft was long and thick and veined. There was a smattering of sandy hair at the base. He was well groomed, not completely shaven, but maintained.
Jamie pressed a kiss to the silver ball, swirling her tongue around the metal. The reporter in her wanted to ask a million questions, but they could wait; there was a more pressing matter she needed to address. “How do I?” she asked looking up at him, licking her lips.
“Just like you would if I didn’t have a piercing.”
“But what if it gets stuck, you know, on my tonsils or something?”
Ry chuckled, “You watch too many movies Kitty Cat, and besides, this is a bar,” he explained, running the metal across her lips. “Maybe if I was wearing a ring that might be a legit concern, but with this you’ll be fine, just take your time. Get used to how it feels in your mouth, and I promise to make sure you get plenty of practice.”
Jamie ran her tongue up the underside of his shaft before wrapping her lips around the tip and sucking. Working around the metal was different, not difficult, but new. She flicked the silver beads gently with her tongue, peeking up to gauge his reaction. Ryder’s head fell back and his eyes closed. Jamie smiled to herself, making a mental note that he liked it.
She went slow at first, like he suggested, only taking him partially into her mouth, but once she was accustomed to the feel of it she pushed him in a little further, coating him with her saliva. Jamie’s jaw dropped and she swallowed more of him, sucking him down to the root. Spittle seeped out of the sides of her mouth as he touched places in her throat she didn’t know existed.
Fingers threaded in her hair, and Jamie’s head flew back roughly, “Get up.” His voice was disjointed, gruff, almost pained.
“Was it okay?” she asked, scrambling to her feet.
“Too fucking good.” Ryder pushed her down on the bed, and finished undressing before climbing next to her. His mattress whined in protest. “I want to taste you too,” he explained, pulling her on top of him. “Turn around, and sit on my face.” In every other aspect of their relation-date-ship-thingy, Ry let Jamie take the lead, but in the bed room he was in charge. The assertiveness in his voice alone was enough to make Jamie dissolve into a puddle of need.
Jamie got into position, hovering over his mouth, and leaned down so she could keep sucking him off as his tongue, warm and wet, danced lazily around her opening. Ryder took his time, worshiping every inch of her, kissing and licking and sucking.
She moaned around his cock. A delicious tingle started at her toes and traveled throughout her body.
“Keep sucking,” he hummed against her flesh. The vibrations caused her to squeeze her thighs together, trapping his head between her legs. It didn’t deter Ryder at all, he devoured her, fucking her with his tongue. He swirled around and around and in and out, pushing her closer and closer.
She’d gotten comfortable with the piercing and was finding her rhythm sucking him into her mouth, allowing the spit to dribble down his shaft.
“Oh god,” she yelled, grinding down on his face. His teeth grazed her clit, and she was lost in sensation. She’d given up all pretense of blowing him and instead focused on keeping herself upright.
“Come on, Kitty Cat, I want you to come in my mouth.”
He sucked her clit, and she came so hard it felt like she was having a seizure. Ryder rolled her onto her back and climbed on top of her, his erection probing her entrance. He kissed her neck, holding her tightly as he rubbed the head of his cock through her folds. He was warm and smooth and, not wearing a condom.
“Ryder,” she gasped, “condom. Condom. Condom.”
“Fuck, sorry,” he said, sitting back. He reached into his nightstand and pulled out a foil packet and rolled on the rubber. Then, with the barrier in place he plunged into her, sending a fresh wave of pleasure down her spine. It was too much. She was in the throes of her first orgasm and there he was pushing her towards her second. “Relax, Kitty Cat,” he murmured, pushing her hair off her forehead.
“I’m going to take care of you.” His pace was slow as she came down. Her body spent, but as promised Ryder took his time giving her everything she wanted, and even a few things she didn’t know she needed.
After a while her breathing evened out and she started to regain use of her limbs. Jamie wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. “Please,” she begged, but for what she wasn’t sure. This was the closest to making love she’d ever been, and the emotion coursing through her was overwhelming. “Ry, fuck me,” she moaned.
“No, I want this slow. I want to savor you. Last time I had to share,” he whispered, as he continued to thrust in and out lazily. Every time he pulled back she could feel the little silver ball grazing her g-spot. Every movement inched her back to ecstasy. “No more running, Jamie. I want you and I won’t apologize for that, but if I go too far just tell me and I’ll back off, okay?”
“No more running,” she agreed. Heat ignited her body, another orgasm threatening to explode.
“Good.” He grabbed her by the waist and slammed into her roughly, tilting his hips down, thrusting into her so hard it was almost painful—only it wasn’t. It was exactly what she needed and somehow, he knew. Being there, in his room, surrounded by him, was the closest she’d ever come to nirvana.
Ryder scanned the note again, smiling at the bubbly script written in green ink on a page torn from his sketch pad. Green. His favorite color for as long as he could remember. The color of her eyes. The color of the cacti sitting on his dresser. The color of life. She more than likely chose it at random, but that was the thing about Jamie; she fit into his life like she was always meant to be there.
Grabbing his phone, he quickly saved her number, then tapped out a text.
Ryder: U could have woken me up before you left, or better yet, kept ur ass in bed.
Her reply was almost immediate.
Lithium Waves: A Lithium Springs Novel Page 7