21. Ryker
21
Ryker
I t didn’t even take me the full twenty minutes to get to her, although I stretched the speed limit a bit. I’m sitting in my car, two houses down, waiting not so patiently for her to come back. I don’t drive the same car as I did back then, but as soon as she asked me if I thought her mother might recognize me through the windshield, I knew she was anxious about it. I had a feeling she wasn’t going to ask, so I offered to park back a bit, hoping the distance might help to ease her nerves.
It’s probably for the best. I have no doubt Christine would not be pleased I’m even talking to her daughter, and it would likely bring more questions than either of us are ready to answer.
She’s been in there at least thirty minutes, and my nerves are starting to get to me. Pulling out the list I had her work on, I look it over, curious to see all that she’s interested in. To my surprise, it looks like she’s really taken her time and thought this through. The basics, like hair pulling and handcuffs, are all obviously checked yes, which is not all that surprising but seeing that she’s checked yes to impact play and discipline has my cock throbbing in my pants.
When I get to exhibitionism and anal and see she’s marked them as soft limits, meaning she’d try them with some discussion, I swear every ounce of blood inside me rushes to my aching dick. And now I’m definitely fully erect. Everything I’ve read on this list, I see myself doing them–to her. I shift my ass in the seat and palm myself to relieve some of the pressure, but it doesn’t help much. “Get a hold of yourself, Ryker,” I whisper to myself.
The passenger door finally pops open, and I sit up quickly, hoping to hide my situation. The last thing I want is to make her uncomfortable. But as soon as she closes herself in, I clock her expression and know things didn’t go well. Her color is ashen, even in the moonlight, and she won’t look at me. The erection I was battling just moments ago, is gone.
“Hey,” I reach over and place a hand gently on her knee. “Wanna tell me what happened in there?”
She shakes her head and starts wringing her hands in her lap, over and over.
It’s late by the time we’re back at the club. She was silent the entire drive and I haven’t pushed her. She’s stuck in her head and I’m assuming this is Christine’s doing.
Her silence is exactly why we’re back here. Seeing her list of things that excite her, things she wants to try has given me some ideas. She’s clearly quite open minded, but more than anything, I want to help her get out of her own damn head.
“Why are we back at Gravity?” she eyes me curiously.
Reaching over, I run my thumb gently over her cheek and she lets out a long, slow breath, like she's been holding it and leans slightly into my touch. “It’s time for your first lesson. Are you ready?”
“Yes, please,” she whispers while nodding.
“Good. Let’s go.”
I grab her hand and lead her through the club until we’re at the room I set aside earlier, just in case. I could technically do this at home, but I need to keep some boundaries in place if we’re going to do this without me fucking her brains out. It’s easier for my brain and my dick this way.
As I’m grabbing my key card, I spot Hayes across the room and he looks pissed.
“Wait here. Do not move.” I sit her at a high top table in the corner. “I’ll be right back.”
Arabella
My heart is racing so fast, it feels like I’m vibrating. I can’t stop thinking about my visit with mom. She was fine. I’m pretty sure she was just lonely. I’m not convinced she couldn’t have picked herself up off the floor, though. I half expected I’d need to call 911 to help, with how she’d made it sound, but I got her up just fine. It took a good thirty minutes to get out the door, though. Once again, she started crying and asserting that I don’t love her enough to stay. I eventually had to just–leave, but now I’m just obsessing over her sitting at home, crying–alone.
A bump jerks the table, breaking me out of my thoughts and I look up to see my best friend. Her hair is flowing loose over her shoulders and she’s wearing her favorite purple pushup bra, and what looks to be a dress made entirely of fishnet. Jesus.
“Wrinley?”
She turns to face me and her eyes go wide. “Ari! What are you doing here?”
“Ohhh no, girl. You first. And what the hell are you even wearing?” She’s definitely rocking it, but I’m so confused and have about a dozen questions.
“Ari, you’ll never believe it. Look at this!” She shows me her phone that is most definitely not allowed in this part of the building. If a club monitor catches her with it, she’ll get kicked out and possibly banned. I learned a lot in one night, working behind the bar.
“Put that away! You’ll get banned if you get caught with that,” I whisper.
“Shush. I’m being careful. I got a text telling me to come. So–I’m here.” The look on her face is a mix of curiosity and I imagine–lust.
UNKNOWN: Club Gravity. 11:30pm. Wear something slutty.
Well, I guess that explains the lack of clothes she’s wearing, but what the actual fuck? “Wrin. What are you doing? Please tell me this is some role play kink you have and you know who this text is from.”
“Um, I have no clue, but this is a safe place right?” She actually wiggles her eyebrows at me.
She can’t seriously be this naive, can she? “You know as well as I do, that while it may be safe inside these walls, there’s no telling what could happen once you leave.”
“Look, bestie. I love you so much, and I know you’ve just been through some stuff, but can you please not ruin this for me? I can practically feel the adrenaline coursing through my body, and I need this. I promise you, I’ll be okay.”
“That’s a text from a stranger, Wrin. How do you know it’s okay?”
“I–just have a feeling. Trust me.” Her eyes are wide like she’s pleading with me to let this go. I do trust her, but this is so weird. I don’t need anything happening to my best friend.
“Can you please be careful? I need you in my life and would never survive if you ended up the next statistic.”
She places a placating kiss on my cheek and saunters away.
I internally groan and run my hands down my face in an attempt to wipe this day away.
“Um, excuse me, did I see you come in with Ryker Hart?” I look up to see a beautiful, leggy brunette standing in front of me.
“Yeah, I’m with him.” I reply, although I’m not entirely sure why I worded it like that, because I’m not technically with him.
She looks me up and down in a very uncomfortable, exaggerated way. “Don’t you know there’s a dress code here?” Her lip actually curls into a judgy smile.
I’m clearly not dressed for the club, in Ryker’s sweats, but in my defense, they’re comfy as fuck and have the added bonus of smelling like him. And I didn’t exactly know I was coming here. Stuffing back the tears caused by her blatant judgment, I steele my spine, but before I can respond, I catch sight of Ryker walking up behind her.
“Arabella,” he coos. “Sorry it took me so long. You look adorable in my clothes, by the way.”
I can’t stop my eyes from blinking rapidly. What is happening?
“Amber.” He nudges her aside and reaches for my hand and I take it with a polite smile. “You’ll have to excuse us, we have somewhere to be.”
“Of course, Ryker darling. We can catch up later,” she says sweetly as she brushes her hand down his fucking bicep. Oh, no she didn’t.
Nausea envelops me and I want to punch her in her perfectly coiffed cunt the second she touches him. I know I have no right to feel this way. He’s helping me out. We’re not together and I have no claim over him. He could have any woman he wants and I’m hardly his type with my curves and thick thighs. Besides, this is completely non-sexual. I wish I could convince my vagina of that fact.
As we enter the room, I look around to see it’s mostly black with purple accents. There’s a large wall of toys hung on the wall to the right. Some I recognize from my research, but there are definitely others I don’t.
There’s a large, king size bed in the middle of the room, a desk and high back chair off to the left.
My brain is so overwhelmed, I’m not sure what to make of any of it. It's an intoxicating and heady mixture of fear and excitement.
“Arabella, did you hear me?”
“No, I’m sorry. I was just thinking.”
His brow furrows, as he steps toward me with both hands stuffed in his pockets. “This is the second time now that you’ve been distracted with your thoughts while I’ve been trying to talk to you.”
“I’m sorry,” I mumble, eyes directed at the floor.
He places two fingers under my chin and directs my eyes back to his. “From now on, anytime we’re in one of these rooms or if we’re in a scene elsewhere, I expect your full attention. Unless I say otherwise, you are to be on your knees, waiting for further instruction. Do you understand?”
“What if I don't know we're in a scene?”
“You'll know. Now answer the question.” That firm and commanding tone comes so naturally to him.
“Yes, Sir. I understand.” Have his eyes always been that blue? They look like the ocean and all I want to do is swim in them.
Lifting his brows and crossing his arms, he gestures to the floor. “I’m waiting, sweet girl.” Why does that simple endearment make my pussy throb?
Shit. Okay. I sink down to my knees at his feet, facing the large bed and place my hands on my thighs.
“I’m sorry, Sir.”
“Don’t apologize. You’re learning, so I anticipate I'll have to remind you or correct you along the way. You aren’t a mind reader and neither am I. That’s the whole point of this, right?” He pauses, waiting for my brief nod that comes seconds later. “Now tell me. When you said you were thinking, what exactly were you thinking about?”
I pull my lower lip between my teeth as I contemplate how to tell him the list is long and it practically never ends. I don't remember the last time my mind was just silent, if it ever was.
Mom used to tell Axel and I that our father left because we were too much for him to handle . The last thing I want is for Ryker to think the same and change his mind about doing this. I’m still not sure why he even said yes.
He told me I need to be open with him if this is going to work, so I look to the ground and tell him. “I was thinking about a lot of stuff. I always am.”
“Eyes on me, beautiful,” he says, perching himself at the foot of the bed. “What kinds of things?”
“I was thinking about Mom. She was crying when I left and I can’t get the image out of my head.”
“What else?”
“I’m worried you’re going to resent me for forcing you into this,” I let out a shaky breath. There, I said it. I’m also thinking about Amber, and the way she called him darling so sweetly, like she had a right to do so, but I leave that out. I don’t need him thinking I’m jealous when we’re not even a couple.
“One thing you need to know about me, is that I don’t do anything I don’t want to do.” He gently caresses my cheek with his thumb. “You, Arabella Bradley, are one of the most amazing women I've ever had the pleasure of knowing. You’re beautiful, inside and out. When I say I want to do this with you, I can assure you I’m not easily pressured. I’ve wanted to show you this side of me, since the moment I ran into you here, when you were drunk off your ass and wearing practically nothing. If I could’ve put you over my knee in front of the whole club and punished you for being so reckless with your safety, I would have.”
And now I’m wet. Thanks for that, universe. My cheeks heat at the thought of him punishing me but I also want to do whatever he asks of me. I don't think he'd even have to ask.
“As for the other stuff on your mind, like your mother. You two have always had a complicated relationship. Am I correct in assuming that hasn’t changed in the past six years?”
I shake my head. “It still feels pretty complicated, most days. She fell a few years ago and needs help getting to appointments and with stuff around the house. She’s not all that well these days. It’s–a lot,” I sigh. “But at the end of the day, she’s still my mother.”
He doesn’t respond for a few minutes, and I’m not sure if I should say more. He’s just–looking at me. Right as I feel the urge to look away, he speaks. “That sounds like a lot to deal with and I can tell it takes up a lot of your energy. I’m going to help you temporarily clear out all the clutter,” he promises.
“Okay, Sir,” I acquiesce. I’m still left wondering what he’s going to get out of all this.
He stands and walks to the desk, seating himself with knees spread, in the wingback chair, then curls a finger in a motion that beckons me to him.
When I move to stand, he tuts, “I didn’t say you could stand. Crawl to me, beautiful.” He can’t be serious. “I can see you overthinking from over here. Stop it and Crawl. To. Me.” And then he points to the space on the floor between his legs. Fuck.