Chapter 21
21
RYAN
M an, he looks gorgeous tonight. Maybe it’s the tequila coursing through my blood or the fact I know exactly what he looks like naked. Probably both.
As he slips inside the truck cab and starts to back out of the driveway, there’s this extra layer of tension surrounding him. He looks grumpy, and to be honest, since he started having orgasms regularly, he hasn’t been all that grumpy lately. See what good O’s do to a person? It turns even the grumpiest grump into a more relaxed, less grumpy grump.
It’s like weed.
But better.
I giggle.
“What’s so funny?”
I release my seat belt and slide to the center of the truck. My hand cups his crotch, and instantly, he starts to harden. Ignoring his question, I ask, “You ever had a blow job while driving down the road?”
His eyes widen as he takes them off the road for a brief few seconds and looks over at me. “Uhh, no.”
“We should,” I insist, releasing his belt buckle so I can get to the button and zipper.
“Ryan,” he states, a mixture of hesitation and anticipation in that one word.
“Don’t be a grumpy grump, Mr. Grumpston.”
“What?” he asks with a gravelly chuckle.
“You’re always so grumpy. Well, you were until you started getting O’s. Orgasms and tequila are the bestest, aren’t they?” I ask, digging his hard cock out of the opening of his jeans and giving him one long stroke.
He grunts, his entire body radiating tension. “We’re almost back to the cabins,” he says, unable to stop his hips from moving, thrusting up into my palm.
“We are,” I confirm, giving his cock a squeeze as I slide my hand from root to tip. Bending down, I swipe my tongue across the head of his dick.
“Ryan.” That one word comes out a plea, his tone filled with desperation.
With my tongue still dancing along the head of his dick, I look up and say, “You could pull over, you know.”
To my surprise, he does. He practically slams on the brakes, swerving to the right and veering off the roadway. I have no idea where we are, and frankly, I don’t care. He throws the truck into park as I shift onto my knees. My hair falls around my face like a curtain, and before I can grab it, his big hands are there, gathering the strands and holding them out of the way.
I can feel his eyes on me as I lower my mouth around him, taking his cock as deep as I can. When it hits the back of my throat, I almost gag, but I’m able to refrain. Instead, I focus on my hand movement, the twist and turn of my palm against his hardened flesh.
Marcus groans, his second hand moving to the back of my neck. It’s as if he has to anchor himself to me somehow, someway. His hips move on their own, thrusting into my mouth, chasing the pleasure. There’s something incredibly heady about this act, of having complete control over a man. Of having his trust.
“Fuck,” he groans as I double down my efforts.
My hands are moving, my mouth wrapped tightly around his cock, as I drive him straight toward release. His body is a live wire, ready to explode, and there’s only one way I want that to happen. Maybe it’s the fact I’m more than a little buzzed right now, but I’ve never had this much fun giving a blow job. Never really wanted to feel him come as much as I do right now.
“Ryan, if you don’t want me exploding down your throat, you need to stop right now,” he states through gritted teeth.
I don’t stop.
So when he comes hard, I’m ready. My firm hand twists and jerks, drawing every drop of cum I can get from his body, all while swallowing it with an eagerness I’ve never experienced.
When he slumps back in the seat, I finally release my hold on him. I sit up on my knees and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. I expect to find his eyes closed, but instead, they’re locked on me. “You’re fucking incredible,” he whispers, still trying to catch his breath.
All I can do is smile.
Marcus moves, leaning forward and pressing his mouth to mine. The kiss is…intense. It’s fierce and protective and domineering, all at the same time. It makes all these feelings rise to the surface, threatening to completely take over my head…and my heart.
His tongue dances with mine, his hand firmly positioned at my neck. My head swims, and all I want is more. More kisses. More Marcus.
“We need to go,” he whispers.
He releases his hold on me and adjusts his jeans. I notice he buttons and zips the fly, but he leaves his belt buckle open, a sign more’s to come the moment we get home.
As another grin spreads across my lips, a wave of exhaustion hits me. All I want to do is lie down and not puke, so that’s what I do. I curl up on my side on the bench seat, my head resting on his thigh, and close my eyes. Marcus rests his hand on my shoulder, his fingers lightly brushing against my bare skin. It’s hypnotizing.
I feel the truck move but can’t seem to open my eyes. Or sit up. Or speak.
The gentle movement of the truck partnered with his gentle hand are just what I need to combat the tequila.
Easily, I fall into a deep sleep.
I slowly stir awake, warmth surrounds me. I open my eyes, but don’t see much. Due to the lack of light filtering through the windows, it’s still night. I also can’t help but notice the windows are different, as is the bed. An arm is wrapped around my side, and I don’t have to look over to know it belongs to Marcus.
What I don’t recall is how exactly I got here.
In his bed.
I lie still, trying to remember. I recall hanging with the girls, drinking margaritas, and laughing. There was so much laughter. It felt…amazing. And right. I could be me for what felt like the first time ever. No one cared what my last name was, how much money I have, or what they could get from me. They wanted my friendship, and in return, offered their own.
When we left Blair and Gabe’s home, I got into Marcus’s truck. I was bold, having slid over in the seat and went down on him. I’d never done that in a moving vehicle, though I suppose it wasn’t moving the entire time. Thankfully, he pulled over so I didn’t cause an accident by my actions. The paparazzi would have loved that one…
But after that?
I don’t recall anything. Not getting to Marcus’s cabin and whatever might have happened after our arrival.
Slowly, I turn my head to look at Marcus. He’s fast asleep, his mouth slightly agape. He’s facing me, lying on his side, and realization hits me. I spent the night. Of all the time we’ve spent together, I’ve never slept over. I always head back to my rented cabin, or he back here. This, waking up beside him, falling asleep here too—even if I don’t remember that part—is new.
I take quick stock in my appearance. I’m wearing my panties and what I can assume is one of his T-shirts. It feels roomy, and it’s definitely not the outfit I was wearing earlier in the evening. While I can’t see what he’s wearing below the sheet, his chest is bare. Even in the darkness, he looks yummy. I long to curl into his chest, to run my fingers down the hard, muscular planes, but I don’t.
Instead, I watch.
I don’t know how long I lie here and stare at him, but the darkness slowly transforms. It’s not daybreak, but I can tell it won’t be long before the sun is peeking over the horizon.
Carefully, I climb from the bed. Marcus stirs, rolling over onto his stomach and curling his arms beneath his pillow. As much as I’d love to stand here and watch the man sleep, I have something else I need to do.
Slipping silently toward the stairs, Buddy sits up, his ears on alert. “Shhh, go back to sleep, Buddy,” I whisper, praying he doesn’t bark.
He doesn’t make a noise, but he doesn’t lie back down either. Buddy gets up and follows me, as if he knows I’m doing something he wants to be part of. Together, we make our way down to the main floor of Marcus’s cabin. My first stop is the coffeepot, which is ready to go to brew a pot. I press the start button and wait for the delicious scent to fill the air.
While the coffee brews, I check to see what he has in the fridge for creamer. I’m pleasantly surprised to find a bottle of the same creamer I enjoy. Pulling it from the fridge, I go in search of a mug. In the third cabinet I open, I find a few various coffee mugs, as well as a whole shelf of travel mugs, and even though the travel mug will keep the coffee hot longer, I opt for a regular mug.
When the coffee finishes, I pour the hot liquid into the mug. This one’s black with bold white letters that reads “This might be whiskey.” It’s exactly the sort of dry sense of humor I’ve come to know and expect from Marcus, and it makes me smile. I add a bit of coffee creamer to the black coffee and replace the bottle in the fridge. Only when I have my cup of Joe in hand do I make my way to the back door.
Buddy is right beside me, ready to go out. “Do you need to potty?” I ask, releasing the lock and pulling the door open. He takes off toward the grass, ready to do his business. Just as I start to step out, I spot my clutch purse and phone sitting on the counter. I grab the phone, just in case I have any issues, and slip out into the early morning June air.
It’s chilly, but only because I’m wearing a pair of panties and a thin T-shirt. However, I refuse to let the temperature stop me. With Buddy at my side—and let’s be honest, I’m glad he’s here—I walk toward the path that leads to the lake. I should one- hundred-percent turn back and get my sandals, but I don’t. I want to feel the sand between my toes as I watch the sun rise over the lake.
I step on a dozen sticks, probably poking all kinds of holes in the bottoms of my feet, but I keep moving. The ground is damp, thanks to the cooler morning air and the tree coverage, but it feels good. Buddy runs ahead, finds a stick, and carries it back to show me his treasure. A squirrel runs across the path, scampering up a tree and making as much noise as an animal ten times his size. My heart rate kicks up at the thought of what might be lurking out here in the shadows, yet I still push forward.
Finally, we break through the tree line and step out onto the beach. The water moves silently as the sun starts to rise. Carefully, so I don’t spill my coffee, I turn on the photo app and take a picture as the sun makes her presence known. I close my eyes and let it warm my face, but only for the briefest few seconds. I don’t want to miss the rest of the sunrise. Buddy lies at my feet as I take it all in. The serene beauty that surrounds me.
Holding up my coffee mug, making sure you can read the words, I angle it just right so you catch the beautiful lake and the rising sun behind it. I snap a few pictures before lowering the device and just watching the rest of the sunrise.
When I’ve finally had my fill of the beautiful morning show, I pull up the photos I took. The pictures don’t do it justice, that’s for sure. With a deep breath, I do something I haven’t done in more than two weeks. I pull up my app that posts on all my social media platforms. I load the photo into the post—the one with my coffee mug, the sunrise, and the lake—and type out my message.
“Nobody can bring you peace but yourself.” -Ralph Waldo Emerson
And that’s what I feel when I’m here.
Peace.
I hit post, and even though I have hundreds—probably more likely thousands—of notifications, I ignore them all and shut down the app. That alone is liberating.
Tucking my phone under my arm, I enjoy my coffee and watch the sunrise. I don’t even care I’m standing out where anyone can see me in my underwear and a T-shirt. I mean, no one is around this section of the lake, and there are only a couple of cabins in this stretch—mine included.
I don’t know how long I stand here, but I can’t seem to take my eyes away from the view. I think back over the last few years, especially my relationship with Vaughn. Did I ever really love him? The answer is yes, but not the way I should have. It wasn’t a forever kind of love, and I know it. He was comfortable, plain and simple. And while I loved him, perhaps it was the type of love you have for a friend instead of your lover.
Sighing, I wonder what will happen when I go back to Los Angeles. I have absolutely no intention of returning to my relationship, especially in light of the fact he was using me. Honestly, I think it was a blessing in disguise. No, I didn’t want to find out on national television, but I’m glad I found out now. Who knows how far he would have taken it? Would he have married me? Cemented his alliance with my family name, all while being with me for all the wrong reasons. Would he have cheated?
Has he cheated?
My stomach churns as I take another sip of coffee. My mind swirls with what could have been, but I quickly shut it down. The relationship is over, so there’s no reason to worry about what might have happened if we remained together. And if he has cheated, I suppose there’s nothing I can do about it now. Except knee him square in the balls next time I see him, but whatever…
Buddy’s ears perk up from where he lies, the stick he was nibbling on forgotten. I step closer to the timber, prepared to use the trees as camouflage. Before I can move completely out of sight, Buddy barks happily and trots over to the place where the path clears way to the beach.
“I wasn’t expecting the woman who passed out in my bed last night to be gone this morning, along with my dog.”
I give him a small smile and remain where I stand. “The sunrise was too beautiful to pass up, and you were sleeping.”
He slowly approaches, his eyes scanning me from head to toe. I do the same, considering he’s wearing a pair of jeans, open at the fly. He’s without a shirt, exactly how I left him when I got out of bed, as well as nothing covering his feet. “You still should have woken me up. And put on more clothes.”
I shrug. “I didn’t have enough time. Coffee was more important.”
He grins, running his hand through his unruly hair. He looks out at the water, where the sun is already creeping up the morning sky. “I’ve come out and watched plenty of sunrises in my time.”
Ripping my gaze away from his hard body, I gaze out at the water. “It’s beautiful.”
I see him nod in my peripheral vision.
After a few seconds of silence, I glance his way and say, “I’m sorry about last night.”
He turns his attention to me. “For what?”
“Well, for passing out, I suppose. I don’t remember a whole lot.”
“You fell asleep on the ride home. I carried you inside and set you on my bed. You stripped out of your clothes, so I grabbed one of my T-shirts to sleep in. The moment you were covered, you climbed beneath the sheets and passed out.”
I don’t miss the way something passes through his eyes. It’s as if something else happened, something he’s not telling me. “Was that all?”
He shrugs, the corner of his mouth curled up. “Well, you did tell me you wanted some of my big dick energy, but before you could say anything else, you were out and snoring.”
“Oh,” I reply, feeling the blush creep up my cheeks. “Sorry I passed out on you.”
He lifts his shoulders before bending down and grabbing a stick. He tosses it down the beach, and Buddy takes off at a sprint to retrieve it. “I, uh, watched your show last night.”
My entire body goes rigid with surprise. “You did?”
He nods, looking a bit sheepish. “Logan had watched it with Hallie and said something about what Vaughn did. He ended up playing it for us.”
“Us?” I ask, dreading where this was going.
“The guys.”
I swallow over the lump in my throat. Not because I was trying to hide it from any of them, but simply because I enjoyed the anonymity, the separation between that world and this one. “Okay.”
After several seconds of silence, he says, “I want to ask you about him, but I don’t think I should.”
“You can,” I reply, watching as Buddy drops the stick at Marcus’s feet. He picks it up and tosses it a second time.
Marcus remains quiet, as if thinking about what exactly he wants to ask. “Wanna head back and refill your mug? This seems like a full cup of coffee conversation.”
Smiling, I nod in agreement. “Sounds good.”
If I’m going to talk about Vaughn with Marcus, I’m definitely going to need more caffeine.
Maybe even a shot of Jack.