Chapter 15 - Liam #3
Like every other book in existence, it’s boring as fuck. After reaching 30%, I growl in frustration and sit up.
I’m getting out of here. I’ll murder Ryker and take his keys and drive home to New Bristol.
Never mind that I don’t know how to drive.
I’m fumbling with my things inside the tent, using my cell phone for a flashlight, when I hear a crunch of leaves behind me.
I look over my shoulder and almost shriek when I see Ryker standing there, silhouetted by the fire in the center of our campsite. I accidentally drop my phone onto the sleeping bag, and everything is plunged into darkness.
“What are you doing?” Ryker asks, his voice gruff.
“Getting my pajamas,” I lie, grabbing my phone again. “I’m going to bed.”
Ryker grunts. “You forgot to take care of the fire,” he says. “You want to do that first.”
“You do it,” I say churlishly. “You’re better at this outdoors crap than I am. And I’ve already taken my shoes off.”
“You’re mad now?” Ryker says with open amusement. “You fucking brat. I told you this was going to be a boring trip.”
“Yeah, well, you didn’t lie,” I say, pulling my shirt over my head. “When are we heading back?”
Ryker takes his shoes off and gets into the tent. He fills so much of the space, crowding me, and my heartbeat races despite myself.
“In two days,” Ryker says. He places his hand on my neck and rubs his thumb along my throat. “You really think you can dictate what I do?”
I start to lean into the touch, then catch myself. I pull back, scowling at him. “No. You’ve made that pretty fucking clear.”
Two more days.
Five days hadn’t seemed like much when I’d agreed to this, but now, two more days seems like an eternity.
“Good. Then turn around and get your ass up,” Ryker growls against my ear.
I want to.
So badly, I want to.
But I’m also increasingly sure I’ve been played, and my pride won’t allow it. “I’m not in the mood,” I tell him. “I can’t dictate what you can do, but I’m my own goddamn person.”
Ryker laughs. “I don’t think that’s what we agreed to.”
He grabs my shoulders, and I barely have time to inhale before he flips me onto my stomach.
It knocks the breath out of me, and I gasp in discomfort as my cut-up chest hits the tent floor. “I don’t think I agreed to anything,” I wheeze.
This is so hot.
Why does he have to be a liar?
Ryker keeps one hand on the back of my neck as he pulls my pants and briefs down to expose my ass.
“I’m pretty sure the deal is that you take whatever the fuck I give you,” Ryker answers. “You’ve been trying to manipulate me all evening, thinking you know how I work. No.” He slaps my ass hard enough to make me yelp. “You do what I fucking tell you to, you brat.”
“You’re such a dick,” I hiss.
He spanks me again, reminding me of the last time he had my ass up in the air like this.
“I’m a dick whose dick you want,” Ryker says.
Whose dick I wanted, past tense, I almost say.
But that’s a lie, and he’d told me not to lie to him. Then again, do I have any obligation to tell him the truth?
He might leave me here if I don’t, though, and I don’t particularly want to have to hitchhike back to New Bristol.
The murder-and-steal-his-car plan is worse than simply getting a ride back.
And I do want him to fuck me. If he is setting me up, don’t I deserve a few good fucks before he screws me over? He might not be a killer like I am, but he knows how to use his body.
“Maybe,” I say. “Or maybe you’re just full of yourself.”
“You’re the one who’s going to be full of me, very soon,” Ryker says with open amusement.
He releases my ass, and I hear him spitting into his hand.
I make a disgusted sound, but my cock is already starting to get hard. “You’re not funny.”
“Probably not.” Ryker lines himself up against my hole. “I’d ask if you’re ready, but I don’t give a shit.”
I scoff again, but my breathing is coming more quickly now as I anticipate him fucking me with only spit for lube.
It’s not going to be comfortable.
Of course, with my chest pressed against the sleeping bag like it is, it wouldn’t be comfortable anyway.
Ordinarily, I’d be all for this, but I keep thinking of all the things he must’ve lied to me about, and I hate him a little for it.
Two more days.
God.
Ryker thrusts inside me, and it burns as much as I thought it would. I relax into it as best as I can.
I’ll endure it and get out of here and never see him again.
“You stupid little brat,” Ryker murmurs as his cock brushes against my prostate. “Did you think about what would happen if we got blood all over our campsite?”
I shiver in pleasure even as his question registers in my mind. “No one said there had to be blood,” I protest. “It could’ve been so easy!” I’m whining, and I know I’m whining, but I’m so pissed that we missed out on such a perfect opportunity to kill together for the first time.
“What’s the fucking point then?” Ryker pulls out almost all the way before thrusting in so hard that I slide forward an inch. “What would you have done with his truck?”
“No one would’ve missed him,” I say, my breath hitching. “It wouldn’t have mattered.”
But I know better. It would’ve mattered.
It would’ve been stupid.
I’d been so excited, though, wanting desperately to see Ryker at work.
“You could’ve figured it out,” I add.
“I didn’t want to figure it out,” Ryker says. He grunts and thrusts in and out again.
I whine and raise up on my elbows so I can reach for my cock.
“Don’t fucking touch yourself.” Ryker bends forward and grips my chin. “You definitely don’t get to come tonight.”
“But I haven’t come in days,” I complain, but I go still as his fingers slide into my mouth.
I taste blood.
I could ask questions, but I don’t think I’ll get answers. Instead, I suck on his fingers like I would his cock, chasing the taste.
Maybe it’s my own blood—but he hasn’t touched my chest at all, and I don’t have cuts on my back, and I don’t smell blood.
Fuck.
My vision goes hazy, and I can’t breathe as he pounds into me with relentless regularity.
Did he kill Jimmy?
Did he cut him up? Is this Jimmy’s blood I’m tasting?
Had Jimmy screamed into the night, for no one to hear him or go to his rescue?
What had I missed?
I groan as I imagine Ryker slitting his throat and letting his blood spill to the forest floor, and Ryker pegs my prostate just in time for me to choke back a cry.
I don’t want Ryker to know just how close I am from being fucked alone, and he keeps going until I’m spilling onto the sleeping bag untouched with a groan.
After a few days of going without, it feels especially good — though I don’t plan on denying myself for any length of time again, no matter how good it feels.
Ryker barks out a short laugh. “Did you just…” His words trail off, though, and he fucks into me only a few more seconds before I feel him spilling into me.
No condom.
I’d already felt good, but now it’s ecstasy.
He didn’t bother with a condom. Either he trusts me with this one thing, or he was too worked up over potentially slaughtering Jimmy.
I don’t know which I prefer.
Maybe he is what I want him to be after all.
I shiver. It’s what I want. So badly, I want him to be what I’ve thought he was from the moment I’d met him.
It’s what I need.
I don’t want to do this alone anymore. I don’t want to have to taunt him for his attention.
I want his attention because he wants to give it to me.
Ryker pulls out of me, and I feel empty now, but I love the sensation of his cum trickling out of my ass and down my thighs.
He lies down next to me. For several seconds, everything is quiet except for the sounds of our breathing and some night bird giving its call.
“Fuck,” Ryker says. “I need to deal with the fire.”
I whine in protest as he moves, but it’s not like I want to be the one to take care of it. “Yeah, okay,” I say, I pull my briefs back up but kick my pants off, leaving me mostly naked. I touch the cuts on my bare chest, and my fingers come away slightly wet.
Well, that’s not a surprise.
But at least I’d been able to come.
Ryker leans over me and kisses me. “You’re so fucking lucky, you little brat,” he whispers.
I hum. “Why’s that?” I ask against his lips.
“Because you’d look so much better with your throat slit than any other man,” Ryker answers.
I freeze.
That’s the closest he’s ever come to admitting anything, and while it’s not an outright confession, I smile as I relax again. “Good thing I’m too pretty to die,” I remind him.
“You aren’t. You’re just lucky nobody has felt like murdering you yet.” He kisses me one more time before he heads out of the tent to deal with the fire.
I breathe out slowly.
I think this is the part where I should be afraid.
I’m not.
Maybe I really am just stupid.