Chapter Thirty-One
Amber
The bottle’s already half empty by the time I get to the casino.
By the third floor, it’s practically gone.
The second the doors open and the elevator dings, I’m chucking the whole bottle of tequila into the trash, and wiping the remnants onto the shitty pair of jeans and faded T-shirt I threw on before I got here.
I couldn’t get my wedding dress off fast enough, the urge to burn it in a fiery trashcan of oblivion impeding my thoughts. I settled for throwing the wretched thing into the recesses of my closet, hoping like hell I’ll never see the damn thing again.
Adrenaline surges through my veins as I place the key against the door, hand fitting around the handle with more hesitation than there should be. There was a time where I would’ve had second thoughts about coming here, but not now. Not when Ryder is the key to erasing it all from memory.
With him, I can forget about Eddie and that fucking conniving bitch Pippa. Why dwell on the things that are hurting me? Not when I can forget. Not when my cure is sitting on the other side of this door waiting for me.
Ryder’s the drug my body craves, the kerosine to ignite this throbbing desire pumping through me. Unlike Eddie, Ryder fucking wants me. Only me, might I add. And that’s what I need right now… a man who’s only focused on me.
If I don’t turn this knob, I’ll shatter, the fragments already forming.
Right now, I’m barely hanging on. If I go home, I’ll just have to face everything all over again.
The bitter sting of their betrayal, searching each of their faces for a remorse I know won’t be there.
If either of them cared, it would never have happened. Never.
Tears prick my eyes, knowing how I’m stuffing down my true emotions, covering them with a gallon of alcohol and a man that can make me whole with just his touch alone.
A tremor takes over my hand as I turn the handle, my heart thundering like vicious drums as the door slowly creaks open, and I take that first nervous step inside.
Do I really want to do this?
Is this really the answer to everything going on in my head right now?
I’m not in love with Ryder. Far from it.
There’s an attraction to him I can’t quite contain, a lust so hungry that I practically ache to feel him inside me once again.
Is it right to use him like I want to? To discard him and throw him away when I am done taking out all my pent-up frustration, before shattering afterwards into a wilted ball of tears and pain?
All those questions melt away when the door closes behind me, and I find him topless, those muscles rippling into hard curves as he lies on the bed flicking through channels on the TV.
My breath hitches when he turns his head. It’s slow at first, but his smile widens, eyes brightening and sparkling in the low light of the room. When that single dimple appears, I’m done for; everything in me knows there’s no turning back now.
He stands up as I rush towards him, throwing myself into his arms, ready to devour him whole.
His arms curl around me, comforting me, protecting me with their silent strength.
Fingertips brush over my cheeks, soaking the tears into his faded prints as he looks down at me with nothing but adoration. “I knew ya’d come.”
I don’t want to talk; I just want him to take me.
“I need you, Ryder. Fuck me. Fuck me harder than you’ve ever fucked a woman.” His eyes widen for a split second before my lips crash desperately onto his, wishing for release, for someone to alleviate the tormented hell my mind is spinning in.
He melts into me, grip tightening as he fights to speak. Every time he opens his mouth, I silence him.
I’m in control.
I fucking need this right now.
I push him aggressively onto the bed, running my hands up and down his chest, feeling each of the muscles that tighten beneath his skin. He moans as I run my tongue across him, sucking his nipples into my mouth, groaning in frustration while I fight with his belt.
Why won’t this fucking thing come off?
He grabs my wrists and gently pushes me back.
“Ya taste like tequila.”
“So?”
“Means you’re bloody drunk, don’t know what you’re doin’ right now. The booze is pourin’ outta ya, love.”
“Shit happened today I’d like to forget.”
“Is that what this is, then? All that I am to ya? Just some bloke to help ya forget?”
“It’s all I can do right now, Ryder. Now do you want to fuck me or not?”
His brow scrunches as I fiddle with his belt again, tugging at the button on his jeans that’s fighting me even harder than the belt. “Are these things super-glued to you? Fuck. All I want is a little dick, and your jeans are cock-blocking me. I’ve never hated denim more than I do right now.”
“Stop, Amber. This isn’t what I wanted. I wanted ya to pick me, proper. We should take it slow. Do it the right way.”
I shake my head as I rip off his belt and snap it like a whip. This new Amber is hungry. She doesn’t want to talk; she just wants Ryder.
“We could do that,” I grumble, words slightly slurring. “Or we could just fuck like we belong in a psych ward.”
He arches an eyebrow as I seductively remove my shirt, enticing him with slow, teasing movements, rendering him mute and regretfully compliant.
His hands follow the fabric as it goes up, running over my skin until they curl over my breasts and playfully squeeze. He shifts, pulling himself up into a sitting position, so that I’m fully straddling the hard-on hiding behind his jeans.
I knew he wouldn’t say no.
He reaches behind me, unhooking my bra with a single finger, freeing the girls from the imprisonment of shitty wire and flimsy fabric that dares to cover them.
He discards it onto the floor, leaving nothing but air between us.
He doesn’t hesitate to suck my nipple, slowly rolling his tongue around it.
A moan rips out of me as his hands fight their way up my back and curl into the hair near the nape of my neck. Pulling hard, our mouths meet in a tumultuous kiss, one that has my toes curling as his free hand kneads and paws at my breasts.
Clothes hit the floor until the only thing left between us is my black lace thong. With one jerk, he has it shredded, the flimsy fabric falling to the floor in sad pieces.
A gasp escapes my lips, but it melts into a moan the moment his fingers slide between my thighs.
He’s rough and greedy, like he’s been starving for me. As if the thought of me under someone else has been driving him to madness. His mouth crashes against mine, our teeth clashing before his tongue claims me, a dark and playful possessiveness ricocheting between us.
He knows why I’m here.
But I won’t let him question why. He doesn’t need to know the details; he just needs to erase them from ever existing.
His hand strokes upward, knuckles grazing my folds before two fingers dip inside me, curling just right. My body responds instantly, my hips rolling, breath catching, pleasure slicing through me like a strike of lightning.
“Already so fuckin’ wet for me,” he growls against my throat, lips brushing that tender spot that makes me whimper. “Ya missed this.”
“I didn’t,” I pant, but my voice betrays me.
His grin is pure sin. “Liar.”
He pushes me down on the bed, fingers still working me, teasing me until my legs turn to jelly. I fall back with a gasp as he drops to his knees, spreads my legs, and disappears…
His tongue replaces his fingers, the fat appendage filling me as it fucks me fast, causing me to cry out as I fist the sheets, ripping them from the corners, back contorting to the point of cracking.
He’s relentless, devouring me in ways no man ever has.
His tongue curls inside me, repeatedly punishing me with maddening circles that have me teetering on the edge of extinction.
“You want to come?” he asks, his voice thick like honey.
I nod in a desperate plea for release.
The smirk speaks for itself.
He’s enjoying this... his torture becoming my internal poison.
“Not yet,” he grumbles. “Wanna feel ya come with me inside ya. Good girls only come when they beg for it.”
He’s on me in a second, the heat of his skin burning against mine, the weight of his body pinning me down in all the right ways. He drags the tip of his cock through my folds, torturing me with possibilities just out of reach.
“Beg for it.”
A fire burns hot in my chest. Call it defiance. Call it a hunger for control. But I will not beg, not for something he already wants. I can see it in those damning green eyes, the way his chest heaves, and the way the vein in his cock pulses between us.
He wants this. Just as much as I do.
“I beg for nothing.”
His smirk is cocky, but it flickers when I tilt my head and let my lips graze his without giving him the kiss he wants. He pulls back slightly, testing me.
“Beg, or ya won’t come.”
I arch a brow before wrapping my fingers around his cock, stroking him hard and slow.
His smirk fades, breath catching as his eyes heavily slit.
“Is that so?” I whisper, tugging him toward me until his nose brushes mine. Our eyes lock, and there’s a silent standoff between us, crackling with tension, and dueling for dominance.
“I’ve got you by the dick,” I murmur with a dangerous smile. “You sure you want to test me?”
His jaw flexes. He’s trying not to react, but I feel the tremor run through his body, cock twitching in my hand as I slowly pump him, forcing him to maintain eye contact.
Neither of us blinks.
Neither giving in.
“Keep talkin’ like that an’ I’ll flip ya over,” he says, voice rough, eyes darkening. “Then I’ll fuck ya so hard you’ll be sore for weeks.”
“Mmm, sounds delicious,” I reply, wetting my lips with anticipation. “But you won’t do a damn thing unless I say so, Ryder.” My thumb drags over his tip, licking away the arousal that’s slowly formed.
He groans, like it’s being dragged out of him.
His cock twitches, eyes now pinching together as he takes a deep breath. He’s close, and I haven’t even let him inside me.