33. Ryker
33
Ryker
I t’s clear she’s never been properly fucked. She passed out shortly after I cleaned her up and I’m ready to go again. Poor thing has no stamina and that realization has the corner of my lip curling up in amusement. While it doesn’t help me right now, with my dick hard as a rock again, I can't find it in me to be upset about it. Stamina, we can fix. Her lack of it, means no other man has experienced her body like I just did. Good for them, because that thought has me feeling feral and I'd prefer not to have to murder them all.
She’s curled into me with her head on my chest and it’s possible she’s drooling a little. There's also an adorable little snore coming from her that has me chuckling. I wonder if she knows she holds her breath when she’s about to come. I watched her face turn various shades of cherry red, and then her chest stopped moving as she held everything in. Poor thing looked like she was going to explode. When I finally allowed her to come, I could see the pressure release and float away as she rode the wave of her climax. I wasn’t planning on allowing it, but she begged so well, and I couldn’t bring myself to deny her.
Admittedly, my reasons weren't all that selfless, because I needed to see her fall apart. The last time I witnessed her come, I didn't get to touch her and I haven't been able to stop jacking off to the memory of it every day since.
And her eyes… entranced me as her eyelids fluttered with every breathless moan. Then she called me Daddy. I know it was a heat of the moment thing, because I said it too, but fuck if I don’t want her to say it all the time. I’ll be her Daddy. I'll be whatever the fuck she wants.
She shifts underneath me and my hand instinctively begins to rub her back and ass in a slow, soothing motion.
“Hey,” she mumbles, looking up at me through droopy, glazed eyes and a weight settles in my chest with the need to take care of her.
Leaning down, I meet her lips with a gentle kiss. “Hey, sweet girl. How are you feeling?”
“Tired,” she says with a yawn. “What time is it?”
“It’s too fucking late, is what it is.” I sit up, allowing her to adjust herself as I shift. My head falls against the headboard, thoughts drifting to when I couldn't find her. I could feel every rapid beat of my heart in my throat as panic coursed through my veins. Then I found her here… hiding. “I don’t think you understand how worried I was when I couldn’t find you.”
She sighs. “I’m–sorry. I shouldn’t have left like I did. I saw her touching you and it was all I could do to finish my shift.”
“Care to elaborate on that? Lots of people, especially women, touch my arm or hand on any given day, while I’m working behind the bar. It doesn’t mean anything.”
She looks away and clasps her hands together, but I don’t miss the slight shake in them, that she’s clearly trying to hide from me. I resist the urge to force her to look at me. We need to talk about this. If this is how she needs to do it, I’ll take it. “I overreacted, I get that. But come on, that woman is perfect, just like my mother. I have love handles, and back fat. My middle is soft and don’t even get me started on these thunder thighs,” she exclaims with a loud slap to each thigh. “I’m literally the opposite in every way. I’ve tried–hard–over the years, to get rid of it all, but I just… can’t.”
On one hand, I’m proud of her for opening up so beautifully and sharing such a vulnerable truth. On the other, that truth has me wanting to shake some sense into her. “Have you ever considered that maybe I have no interest in perfection?”
“Then why were you with my mother back then?”
“Beauty is more than just physical, sweet girl. Your mother was selfish and cruel. There’s no amount of physical anything that could make a woman like that seem beautiful to me. Her appearance may have gotten my attention, but it’s her personality that lost me,” I explain, cupping her chin and drawing her eyes back to mine. “Is she the reason you’re so hard on yourself about your body?”
Her eyes blink and a single tear falls down her cheek. I don’t need her to say it to confirm what I’ve suspected all this time.
“I have this memory,” she starts, quietly at first. “I think I was twelve, maybe thirteen. I was obsessed with watching videos of people jumping out of airplanes, soaring through the sky like a bird or people jumping onto those huge inflatables in the water and then another person, that’s waiting on the inflatable, goes flying into the air and into the water. I wanted to fly through the air, as high as I could, just like them.” Her movements become more and more animated as her face lights up at the memory of watching other people’s adventures.
“That sounds–terrifying.”
“It does, but I wanted it more than anything,” she pauses and sucks in a breath. “Mom wouldn’t take me to do any of it, no matter how hard I begged. Said I was too heavy to do things like that.”
My heart breaks for little twelve year old Arabella. I remember Christine being hard on her about her weight, which irritated the fuck out of me, but I had no idea it went back that far. It sickens me that she’s put this idea in her daughter’s head that she’s anything less than perfect.
“Sweet girl. I’m so sorry she ever made you feel anything less than perfect.” I pull her closer to me, encasing her head in my hands and placing a gentle kiss to her forehead, while silently vowing to right this wrong her mother inflicted on her.
I need to get her home. “It’s late. We need to get dressed and go home. To my bed. Where you will be sleeping from now on.”
“So bossy,” she laughs quietly and I’m thankful to hear some levity back in her tone.
“You have no idea.”
“I kinda do have an idea now,” she yawns. “I can’t believe I called you Daddy.”
“If you recall, you also called me Daddy when I picked you up from Wrinley’s apartment. Although, I think you were joking with that one.”
“I was definitely joking, but also trying to antagonize you a little. It was Wrinley’s idea and I went with it. She said she could see how I was looking at you. That I liked you. She got this not so brilliant idea that you needed a little push,” she winces. “I’m sorry.”
“You like me, huh?” I smirk. “Did you like calling me Daddy?”
A blush creeps into her cheeks at the mention of it. “It was hot, but I don’t know if I’d want to call you Daddy all the time. In the bedroom, I’m definitely a fan.”
I lean down to kiss her again, this time on those soft lips of hers. “That’s fine, baby. I’ll be your Daddy whenever you need, or want, me to be.”
Arabella
Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock.
My eyes snap open to the sound of a very aggressive pounding at the door. I glance at my phone to check the time and see it’s morning. The plan was to go back to Ryker’s, but as soon as I stood from the bed, he ordered me back under the covers and made me come three more times like it’s his mission to make up for every orgasm I missed out on with previous partners. Needless to say, my vagina–she’s sore. We quickly passed out in each other’s arms and here we are.
“Are you expecting someone?” Ryker asks with a raised eyebrow.
“ARABELLA! OPEN UP! I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE!”
Shit. It’s my fucking mother. What the fuck is she doing here? More importantly, how did she get here? She’s not supposed to drive and she leaves the house so little these days, she could easily classify as a hermit.
“What is she doing here?” I jerk upright, clutching the sheet tight to my chest like she’ll see me if I don’t. He was inside me, more than once, last night and now I’m shy?
This is karma–it has to be–she’s coming for me because I’m doing the dirty with my mom’s ex. What a fucking bitch.
“Fuck,” I whisper. “What have I done?”
Ryker regards me with sympathy, like he’s watching the struggle play out in my mind. It’s easy to forget that he knows her at all, let alone intimately, but at this moment I’d like to crawl into a hole and forget any of it is happening.
“Don’t do that. Don’t give her this kind of power over you. She doesn’t deserve it.” Then he stands and walks around the bed, pulling me to stand and holding my cold hands with his warm ones. “Now put some pants on and see what she wants.” He follows his little pep talk with a swat on my bare ass and proceeds to pull his on as well.
“Will you wait here for me?” I plead.
He chuckles. “Where am I going to go? I’m a little old to be climbing out windows because we got caught by Mom .” The emphasis he put on the word mom doesn’t escape me.
“How are you so calm right now?”
He pauses for a split second. “Because I don’t actually give a fuck if she knows. I’m not ashamed of you or what’s happening between us. It’s been over between your mom and I for a long time. And frankly, it’s none of her goddamn business,” he asserts nonchalantly, like it’s no big deal. “I’ll tell her myself if you want.”
How is he this good? I love that he isn’t embarrassed by me or whatever this is, and I wouldn’t be either–except this is my mother. I don’t need any more judgment than she already tosses my way.
“No,” I say, pressing my palms gently to his bare chest. “I really don’t want to deal with that drama right now. I’ll find out what she wants and get rid of her.”
He nods and I shuffle through the bedroom door, shutting it behind me.
Her incessant knocking continues as I brace myself to open the door. “Coming.” I’m already here, but sometimes every second helps when I’m dealing with her.
When I open the door, I’m shocked to see my mother adorned with a styrofoam neck brace. “Mom,” I gasp. “You’re in a neck brace? What happened to you? And how did you even get here? You know you’re not supposed to be driving.”
I worry about her constantly, but it’s exhausting being her daughter and I’ve been strangely occupied and distracted. Although, I will not be sharing with her the reason for my distraction–who just happens to be in the other room with his dick covered in my cum. I give my head a quick shake.
Nope. Not going there.
“Arabella,” she starts. “This is what happens when you don't come when I need you. I haven’t seen you in too long. Thank god it wasn't worse. What if I'd died in my sleep? You’d never know because you never come to see me.”
Fuck. Okay, so we’re going on a guilt trip today. I did not pack for this.
“It hasn’t been that long. And you’re here, so you clearly haven’t died.”
“But I could have. How long would it have taken you to find my body?”
Jesus. She’s good. I’ll give her that. She knows exactly where to hit me for maximum effect. Her words hit like a sharp knife to the heart. I don’t want anything to happen to her and I’d for sure blame myself if I walked into her house and found her lifeless body. That guilt would most definitely eat me alive. That still doesn’t explain how she got here, though. Or how she got to the doctor to get a neck brace, for that matter. None of this is making any sense.
“How did you get here, Mom?” I ask again, purposely ignoring her last question.
She lets out an exaggerated huff and shifts to her other leg. “I just had to see you, dear. Don’t you see how much I love you? I’m willing to put my life at risk, to see my own daughter, even though I’m not convinced she’d do the same for me.”
And the hits keep coming. “I’m sorry,” I give in with a sigh. “Why don’t we get dinner soon? I’ve been a bit busy lately, but I’ll make some time.”
“How generous of you to make a sliver of time for your own mother.”
My hands ball into fist and my throat suddenly feels tight at the implications she’s tossing in my face. How can I make this stop?
How dare you accuse me of not making time for you. Of not caring about you.
The words are on the tip of my tongue. But I can't find the courage to let them out.
“Sorry, Mom. You tell me when you want to get together, and I’ll make it happen.”
She eyes me warily but eventually nods in agreement. Okay, that wasn’t terrible, I suppose. I always feel like I’m walking on eggshells with her, but I believe she misses me. It has to be lonely living in that house all alone.
“How about this weekend?” she asks.
Well, fuck. I was hoping she’d at least give me more time to plan.
“Sure. That sounds good, Mom.” Although, this weekend means I’ll have to adjust my work schedule, but I'll figure it out. Giving her what she wants is the path of least resistance.
“Okay. You’ll have to pick me up though, because I really shouldn’t be driving, as you know.” Of course she shouldn’t. “And make sure you wear something–presentable. I don’t know what this is, but it’s not it.” She follows her request by swiping her hand up and down my body from my messy hair down to my bare feet. If she only knew how I got this way.
“Fine. I’ll pick you up and we can get dinner.” She nods and turns on her heels, walking away. Love you too, mom.