Chapter Eleven
CHAPTER ELEVEN
RYDER
T he bar was buzzing, alive with energy that thrummed through the walls and pulsed in time with the low beat of the music. It was the kind of night when the liquor flowed too easily and the laughter too loud, masking tensions ready to bubble over at any moment.
I leaned back in the corner booth, my arm draped lazily over the backrest, a half-empty glass of whiskey balanced on my knee. Chains and Torch sat across from me, deep in a conversation about next week’s run, while Smoke was busy charming a leggy brunette at the next table. Two club girls clung to me, their laughter high-pitched and grating, their hands roaming in practiced familiarity.
But I wasn’t paying attention to any of it.
My focus was elsewhere—on her.
It started as a shift in the crowd, a ripple of motion near the entrance. I didn’t need to look directly to know something had changed; the atmosphere seemed to tilt. And then, like a fucking magnet, my eyes found her.
Delilah Cruz walked in, and the whole damn room might as well have stopped.
She was in a short black dress that hugged every curve, the hem brushing mid-thigh, showing off legs that made it impossible to look away. Her heels clicked softly against the floor as she walked, her confidence a sharp contrast to the chaos around her. A thin silver necklace glinted under the bar lights, drawing my gaze to the delicate line of her collarbone. Her hair framed her face perfectly, and her lips curved in a smile that was both effortless and dangerous.
She was with a group, laughing at something one of the guys said. Tall, clean-cut, polished. The kind of guy who thought he could handle her. The sight of her with him, leaning in close, made something dark and primal twist in my chest.
“Yo, Ryder,” Chains muttered, nudging my shoulder. “You good?”
I didn’t answer. My grip tightened around the glass in my hand, the faint creak of the leather booth grounding me enough to keep from snapping it in two. The blonde next to me shifted closer, pressing her body against mine, but I barely noticed.
“Do you see her?” Torch asked, his tone edged with amusement.
“I see her,” I said through gritted teeth.
Torch let out a low whistle, leaning back in his seat. “She’s trouble.”
“She’s mine,” I muttered, the words slipping out before I could stop them. The truth of it hung in the air, undeniable and unspoken.
Chains chuckled, but it was laced with caution. “You gonna do something about it?”
The blonde on my right tried to pull my attention back to her, trailing her nails down my arm. “Ryder,” she purred her voice a poor imitation of seductive. “What’s got you so distracted?”
I shrugged her off, my focus laser-sharp on Delilah as she moved toward the bar, her laughter cutting through the noise like a blade. Her group followed the guy leaning in too close, his hand brushing against her arm.
That was it. My breaking point.
I shoved off the booth with enough force to make the blonde stumble, her drink sloshing over the rim of her glass. I didn’t bother with an apology. My boots hit the floor with purpose, the crowd parting instinctively as I crossed the room.
The guy—whoever the fuck he was—was saying something, his hand lingering near Delilah’s waist. Her smile widened at whatever he’d said, and that was the final fucking straw.
“Delilah,” I called, my voice cutting through the noise like a whip.
She froze mid-laugh, her head snapping in my direction. Her eyes widened briefly before narrowing, her body stiffening as she turned to face me fully. The guy beside her glanced between us, his expression shifting to wary confusion.
“Ryder,” she said, her voice steady but tight. “What are you doing here?”
I ignored her question, my gaze flicking to the guy next to her. “Who’s your friend?”
Her glare was immediate. “None of your business.”
“Everything about you is my business, kitten,” I shot back, letting the nickname linger just long enough to make her bristle. “Especially when you’re in my bar.”
The guy’s brow furrowed, his posture stiffening as he finally seemed to catch on. “Look, man,” he started, his tone cautious, “we’re just here for a few drinks?—”
“Then take your drink and walk away,” I interrupted, my voice cold and final.
He hesitated, his gaze darting to Delilah for direction. She didn’t offer any. Her shoulders were squared, her glare locked on me, but she didn’t say a word.
Smart man. He muttered something under his breath and backed off, disappearing into the crowd without another word. Her other friends lingered awkwardly, their gazes shifting between us.
“Go,” Delilah told them, her tone sharp. “I’ll catch up.”
One by one, they drifted away, leaving us alone at the bar. The tension between us crackled like a live wire, the noise and chaos of the room fading into the background.
“What the hell is your problem, Ryder?” she demanded, stepping closer, her voice low but seething.
I didn’t answer. Not with words.
Instead, I grabbed her arm—not hard, but firm enough to leave no room for argument. Her eyes widened in surprise, but she didn’t pull away. I didn’t give her a chance to argue, to spit another sharp retort. My grip didn’t falter as I led her through the throngs of people, weaving past tables and bodies without looking back. The room seemed to shrink around us, the noise dimming into a dull roar as we moved.
She didn’t say a word, but I could feel the tension radiating off her, the heat of her anger and something deeper simmering beneath the surface.
The cool night air hit us as I shoved the back door open. The sound of muffled music spilled out briefly before the door swung shut behind us.
Without a word, I slammed her against the rough brick wall of the alley. Her eyes widened in surprise, lips parting to speak. I crushed my mouth to hers before she could utter a sound, kissing her hard and deep. My hands roamed down her sides, fingers digging into her hips as I pressed my body flush against hers.
I grabbed the hem of her little black dress, dragging it up her thighs. My hand slid higher, expecting to encounter lace or silk. Instead, I found only smooth, bare skin.
"Fuck," I growled against her neck. "No panties.”
I yanked her hair, forcing her head back. Our eyes locked, mutual loathing crackling between us like lightning. Her pupils were blown wide with arousal, belying the contempt twisting her features.
“I bet you're usually too busy on your high horse to get any action," I snarled, hitching her leg around my waist. The rough denim of my jeans scraped against her inner thigh as I ground against her.
With fumbling, urgent movements, I unbuckled my belt and yanked down my zipper. Delilah's breathy moans spurred me on as I shoved my jeans and boxers down just far enough to free my cock. In one swift motion, I hoisted her up, pinning her between my body and the wall.
I thrust into her warm, wet pussy in one fluid motion. Delilah gasped, her nails digging into my shoulders. I groaned at the exquisite sensation of her tight walls gripping my throbbing cock.
"Oh god, yes," she panted, wrapping her legs around my waist.
I pulled back slowly before slamming into her again, setting a frantic pace. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed in the small space. Delilah's breasts bounced enticingly with each thrust, and I ducked my head to capture a nipple between my lips. She cried out, arching her back.
"Harder," she begged. "Fuck me harder."
I redoubled my efforts, pistoning my hips. Sweat beaded on my brow as I pounded into her relentlessly. Delilah moaned loudly, her nails raking down my back. Her legs wrapped tightly around my waist, pulling me deeper with each thrust. I could feel her pussy clenching around my throbbing cock, hot and slick.
"Yes, just like that," she panted. "Don't stop."
I gripped her hips, angling them upward to hit her sweet spot. Her back arched off the wall as I slammed into her, hitting her G-spot over and over. The wet sounds of our bodies colliding filled the room, punctuated by our ragged breathing and animalistic grunts.
"Your dick feels so good inside me," Delilah gasped.
With a growl, I grabbed the top of her dress and yanked it down roughly, exposing her heaving breasts to the cool night air. Her nipples pebbled instantly, begging for my touch.
I latched onto one breast, biting down hard enough to leave marks. Delilah cried out, a mix of pain and pleasure. I soothed the sting with my tongue before sucking her nipple forcefully into my mouth. I wanted to mark her, to claim her as mine even if just for tonight.
My hips never stopped their frantic pace as I lavished attention on her breasts. I alternated between biting, sucking, and licking, determined to leave vivid evidence of our encounter.
Delilah's moans grew louder, her fingers tangling in my hair as she arched her back.
I redoubled my efforts, circling my hips to keep hitting just the right spot inside her. Her walls began to flutter around me, signaling her impending release. I sucked hard on her nipple, flicking my tongue rapidly across the sensitive peak.
"Oh god, yes!" Delilah cried out, her body going rigid. Her inner muscles clamped down, squeezing me in rhythmic pulses as she came undone. I groaned against her breast, the intensity of her orgasm nearly pushing me over the edge as well.
I growled low in my throat as I reached up to gently wrap my hand around her slender neck. Her eyes widened, pupils blown with desire. I could feel her pulse racing beneath my palm as I began to move again, my hips snapping forward with renewed urgency.
“You’re mine, kitten,” I tell her as I tightened my grip on her throat, just enough to make her gasp as I come inside her pussy.
I pull my cock out of her pussy, and she hisses at the loss.
As I pulled my jeans back up, her words cut through the quiet, sharp and raw. "I hate you."
I looked up, catching sight of her as she straightened her dress, her hands shaking just enough for me to notice. Her hair was mussed, her cheeks flushed, and her eyes… her eyes burned with defiance, anger, and something she’d never admit.
My lips curved into a slow, knowing smirk. "Hate me all you want, kitten," I said, my voice low and deliberate. "Doesn’t seem to stop you, though, does it?"
She shot me a glare that could’ve sliced through steel, her fingers fumbling as she smoothed down the fabric of her dress. "You think this is some kind of game?" she snapped, her voice trembling with anger—or maybe something else.
"Game? No." I stepped closer, closing the distance she was so clearly desperate to put between us. My hand brushed her chin, tilting her face up so she couldn’t look anywhere but at me. "But don’t pretend you don’t know what this is."
Her breath hitched, but she jerked her chin away, her gaze darting to the ground as she shoved past me toward the door.
I watched her go, the sound of her heels clicking against the pavement sharp in the quiet alley. My chest tightened as I watched her push the door open, disappearing into the bar without another word.
"Hate me all you want," I muttered to myself, blowing out a stream of smoke. "Just means you’re still thinking about me."
But as the door swung shut behind her, the lingering ache in my chest reminded me that this wasn’t as simple as I wanted it to be. Not even close.
I stayed in the alley for a moment longer, letting the cold night air cut through the lingering heat that clung to my skin. Her words echoed in my mind— I hate you.
Yeah, right. If hate were all she felt, she wouldn’t have melted the way she did. Wouldn’t have let her hands grab onto me like I was the only thing keeping her grounded.
I took one last drag from my cigarette before flicking it to the ground, crushing the ember under my boot with more force than necessary. My jaw clenched as I pushed the door open, stepping back into the chaos of the bar.
The noise hit me like a wall—laughter, shouting, the thrum of music vibrating through the floor. My eyes scanned the room, catching sight of Delilah weaving through the crowd, her back stiff, her pace hurried as she rejoined her group.
I didn’t let my gaze linger. Couldn’t. Instead, I made my way back to the booth in the corner, the path clearing for me as it always did. People knew better than to get in my way when I was like this.
When I reached the booth, Chains was the first to look up, his sharp eyes narrowing as he took me in. “That was fast,” he said, his tone laced with amusement. “You scare her off already?”
Torch chuckled, leaning back with his arm draped lazily over the back of the booth. “Or did she scare you off?”
“Neither,” I said flatly, sliding into my seat and reaching for my whiskey. The amber liquid burned as it slid down my throat, but it wasn’t enough to dull the knot tightening in my chest.
“Looked like she was in a hurry,” Smoke chimed in, his tone lighter than the look he shot me. “What’d you say to her this time?”
I ignored the question, my jaw tightening as I set the empty glass down with a little more force than necessary. “Where’s the prospect?” I asked, my voice sharp enough to change the subject.
Torch raised an eyebrow but didn’t push. “Out back, keeping an eye on things. You know, because of her. ”
The way he said it— her —made my fists itch, but I kept them planted on the table.
Chains leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table as his expression turned serious. “This thing with her… It’s a distraction, Ryder. You know that, right?”
“Not your concern,” I said, my tone final, but even as the words left my mouth, I could feel the weight of the truth in Chains’ stare.
“Sure, it isn’t,” he muttered, leaning back again.
Torch laughed, but the sound was hollow. “Just don’t let her be the reason this thing with the Vipers blows up in our faces.”
I didn’t respond. Couldn’t. Because no matter how much I wanted to deny it, I knew they were right. Delilah Cruz was a complication. A distraction.
But she was also a fire I couldn’t seem to put out.
And I wasn’t sure I wanted to.