Chapter Eight
Ryker
Ryker couldn’t sleep. Again.
This time it wasn’t anxiety keeping him
awake. He was just fucking horny. He’d come so close to picking up
the phone and calling Wes instead of texting him. God knows why.
Just to hear that deep, sexy voice say my name, that’s why.
This whole thing with Wes was bad—this book collaboration, their
crazy chemistry, the texting and flirting. Bad, bad, bad.
But it sure as hell didn’t stop Ryker from
fantasizing. He stretched out on his bed and reached down to his
black briefs, shoving them down his thighs and taking himself in
hand. He reached for the lube in the nightstand drawer with his
left hand while his right continued to jack his now very erect
cock.
Shit, that lube is cold. Pre-cum
slipped out his slit, and Ryker used it and the added lube to
create a warm, slick slide.
A minute later, his cock—along with the rest
of his body—was so hot, Ryker thought the bedsheets would combust.
He imagined Wes here with him, lying on his California king bed,
all six feet of his big, muscular body stretched out naked for
Ryker to explore.
He’d start with Wes’s pecs, since he was
sure Wes had a phenomenal chest. At least, it felt that way under
his suit tonight. Ryker would then slowly run his fingers through
Wes’s blond chest hair—please, God, let him have chest hair—and
over solid muscle to his nipples, tugging first, then bending over
to lick and gently bite as Wes swore and panted his demands.
“That’s it, Ry. Don’t stop.”
Finding a sensitive spot, Ryker did as he
was told and tugged harder on Wes’s flat brown nipples, the grunts
and groans of Wes’s satisfaction spurring him on. He then slowly
licked his way down to Wes’s navel, gently biting and kissing the
skin that was smooth and sprinkled with more blond hair. Wes’s skin
was salty and musky, the taste so primal that it made Ryker’s cock
even harder. Ryker then took both their dicks in hand and jacked
them off together, their combined pre-cum creating a messy, sticky
friction that was so damn good.
“Ry,” Wes moaned and gripped his ass,
sliding his fingers over his sensitive hole. “I’m going to pound
your perfect ass. Fuck you hard until you scream my name.”
Holy shit, just the thought of Wes sliding
into his tight hole was enough to send his fantasy right over the
edge.
“Wes!” Ryker groaned loudly and came so hard
he thought he might black out. He’d probably woken the neighbors on
this floor and the one below with his shouting. Jesus, that was
powerful. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d experienced
such an amazing orgasm. Too fucking long.
When Ryker finally and reluctantly opened
his eyes, he found himself in the real world again, alone, the
sheets cold and messy with his cum.
Thirty minutes later, with clean sheets and
an exhausted body, he finally got back into bed and turned on his
sleep app. Now that the room was free of sex noises, his fur babies
slowly wandered in and hopped onto the bed beside him. Thoughts of
the evening swirled in the back of his mind, but Ryker refused to
let his sleep be interrupted by Wes again. Ryker had worked Wes out
of his system with his nighttime fantasy, and now things would be
back to normal. No more flirting or eye fucking. He could focus on
testing out this collaboration in a strictly professional way.
Right?
Wes’s deep chuckle reverberated in his
memory. Fuck.
****
Wes
Sunday morning came too quickly. And too
loudly, thanks to Wes’s hotel neighbors down the hall, who seemed
to be having a really fucking good time until six in the morning.
Emphasis on the fucking.
Much as he hated the disturbance to his
sleep, Wes was both aroused and envious. The noise-fest did not
help his morning hard-on. Neither did thinking of his dark-eyed
writing partner and imagining what he would sound like in the same
scenario. Stop thinking about Ryker!
Before he gave in to his baser instincts
again, he remembered Ryker’s request and grabbed his laptop. First,
he contacted Mac and got Ryker’s address. Then he started his
“homework.” Surprisingly, the words flowed out of him this morning.
Before he knew it, over an hour had passed and he’d written just
over seven hundred words, then jotted down some ideas about
potential plots for their series. New York City’s energetic vibes
were rubbing off on him already.
Speaking of rubbing off, his mind wandered
back to the shower last night. No, focus.
Needing a distraction that would energize
him for his live interview at eleven, Wes threw on his running gear
and headed for the elevator. The hotel had a fully equipped gym
that was usually empty at eight on a Sunday morning, so a run on
the treadmill was in order.
Wes glanced down to the end of the long
hallway and noticed a man leaving Grey’s room.
Probably room service. Wait—no hotel
uniform. Probably a business meeting. Wes walked a few steps
closer to get a better look at the man.
Blond, slim, wearing a white shirt that
looked two sizes too big. Wes couldn’t make out the man’s face from
this distance, but his profile looked familiar.
Before Wes could move or say anything, the
man rushed off to the elevator and was gone. None of my business
anyway.
Two hours later, Wes was back in his room,
freshly showered and enjoying his first coffee when his phone rang:
Grey.
“Hey, bud, hold on.” He gulped down the rest
of his brew. “I’m just having coffee, but I still need to get
dressed. I’ll drop by your suite in ten minutes.”
Grey cleared his throat. “Sure. How did you
sleep?”
“Not much, but that’s hotels for you. At
least some people on this floor had sexy fun last night. Or I
should say early this morning. Fuck, they were loud. Did they wake
you up, too?” Wes asked, and Grey coughed on the other end of the
line. “You all right, Grey? I hope you haven’t caught a bug.”
More throat clearing from Grey. “No, just
allergies. You know the way it is this time of year. Okay, well,
see you soon,” he said, then hung up.
Once Wes was ready, he knocked on Grey’s
door and they headed off for a quick brunch and then the
interview.
His spot on Weekend New York was
better than Wes had expected. The anchor, Haley Sanders, was
professional and charming, drawing her audience in with funny
questions and quips. Wes couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt
so relaxed in an interview. Not that it was a hardship—he loved
people, and talking about his work helping other writers find their
voice was rewarding. At least, it had been for the past several
years. Funny he should be in a position now to need his own advice
since his creative mojo was on hiatus.
Haley led into the final questions. “So tell
me, Wes, now that My 90-Day Novel is a bestseller, what’s
next on your list? Are you going to go back to writing fiction? I,
for one, am a huge fan of your Darren Fields mysteries, and I’m
dying to know—pun intended—” She paused as the audience laughed.
“—if we’re going to see any further books. I won’t give too much
away in case some of our audience hasn’t read it yet, but in the
last book, Darren faced an unresolved personal conflict.”
Wes smiled. “As you know, Haley, New York
City is my first stop on a tour across the US for My 90-Day
Novel, and then it’s back home to Toronto for a much-needed
rest. We’ll see what happens in a few months. I’ve been mulling new
ideas, so I’ll have to get back to you. But I appreciate all the
love for my mysteries. They were a joy to write, and I hope a joy
to read.”
“Indeed. Rumor has it that you’re working
with another well-known author on a new series. Any truth to that?
And if so, what kind of series?” Haley asked.
How the hell had she gotten ahold of that
information? Good thing Wes was a pro at improvising.
“Rumors are just that. You don’t believe
everything you read about me in the tabloids, do you, Haley?” Wes
laughed and put on his best-selling grin.
“Well, I’ve read some pretty spicy things
about you, so I hope so. Speaking of which, you were photographed
entering a nightclub this weekend with New York City’s most
eligible gay socialite, Mac Duran. Are you two an item?” she asked,
leaning forward in anticipation of his response.
Ah, now Wes realized how she’d made the
supposition about his new project. Wes smiled at the audience.
“Like I said, don’t believe everything you read. Well, my books are
the exception.” He paused to let the low ripple of audience
laughter flow over him. “I know lots of people, and I like to
socialize. And I certainly don’t hide my sexuality, but some things
still should remain private.”
Wes hoped that would put an end to a line of
questioning that was starting to make him uncomfortable.
Haley turned back to Wes. “Well, it’s been
great having you here, Wes, and we look forward to your next book.
Come back and visit us again when you’re in town.” Haley quickly
turned and smiled at the audience. “I hope all of you have enjoyed
today’s guests. Have a great Sunday and a wonderful week ahead!
Take care, New York.” And with that, the cameras turned off and the
lights dimmed.
Haley touched Wes’s arm. “Great job, Wes. I
hope you didn’t mind the personal question. You know how it is in
this business. Everyone’s vying for the latest juicy piece of
news.”
“Of course, Haley. No harm, no foul. Thank
you again.” He shook Haley’s hand and set out for the exit.
No, he didn’t mind. He was used to it. He
just hoped his potential new writing partner wouldn’t mind
either.