Chapter 26 - Ryker #2
I smile at the question. Very incriminating. We’re just having phone sex, but if his phone is tapped, this could be the clue that leads them to me.
“Of course not,” I say. “But I hear you can feel heartbeats if you fist somebody. Or I can lay my hand on your chest, and you can imagine me cutting it open so I can kiss your heart properly.”
“Such a romantic,” Liam says. “Mm, that’s three. I’m plenty stretched for the dildo.”
Somehow, I doubt that.
“How big is it?” I ask. “Did you buy one of those monster dildos with all the weird ridges or animal shapes?”
“Ridges, yeah,” he tells me with a breathless laugh. “I like how they feel. It’s not too big, but I can definitely feel it.”
“A loose slut like you? It must be massive by everybody else’s standards.
” I close my eyes and imagine tying him to the bed.
I could stuff him with a dildo or a vibrator while I work my knife over his skin, and all he’d be able to do is writhe and moan for me.
“Get it all the way inside you. Tell me when you’ve hit the base. ”
“Yeah, okay, give me a second.” More rustling, another squirt of lube, and a hissed-in breath. “Fuck. It’s…” He laughs again. “I’ll show it to you next time you’re in NB. You can tell me what you think.”
“I’ll have to see the entire collection,” I say. “So I can pick my favorites.” I draw the foreskin of my cock back so I can rub the head of my cock. “It’s in? Then start thrusting. Slowly.”
“But what if I don’t wanna go slow?” he retorts.
He’ll do it anyway.
He’ll do anything I tell him to and ask for more.
“If you want to go fast, I’ll hang up and you can find some other guy. You can enjoy the men from the clubs who will fuck you hard and fast and leave you unsatisfied, while I go back to my brother’s funeral or whatever they’re doing right now.”
“Nope!” Liam replies without hesitation. “I’m going slow. So slow. I’m pretending you’re here and you’re the one teasing me. I never, ever go this slow on my own.”
I grin to myself. “I bet you don’t. But since it’s me torturing you, that means you aren’t touching your cock at all, right?”
“I…” He trails off. “I mean, I won’t if you don’t want me to.”
He was absolutely touching himself, and I love that hesitation in his voice, that secret plea.
“I don’t want you to,” I say cruelly. “I’m fucking your hole. Your cock doesn’t concern me.”
“Oh, God,” he mumbles. “I’d be so pissed if anyone else said anything like that, just FYI.”
He’s already desperate, all from the mere suggestion.
“If I cared about what my partner wanted…” I trail off. “Well, I don’t usually see my partners a second time anyway.”
Let him infer from that what he wants.
“Neither do I,” Liam admits, his breathing coming harder, faster. I assume he’s still obeying and fucking himself slowly on the dildo because he whines, “Can I go a little faster?”
I pick up my own pace. “Sure. Nail your prostate. Tell me when you’re getting close, though.”
There’s a beat before he asks, “You are going to let me come, right? Please tell me you’re not going to be a total dick.”
I ignore the question, groaning as the pleasure builds inside me. I turn my touches gentler to draw it out longer. “Come on. I want to hear you. I’d be right in there, making sure your prostate gets abused over and over. You wouldn’t be able to see straight for all the pleasure.”
Liam groans again. “I’m not far off,” he pants. “Just a little more. It— Ungh, okay, it hits my prostate just right. It’s got this little curve, and—” He cuts himself off with another needy sound.
I tighten my grip on my cock, panting harder. “I’m gonna fill you up. I’m going to breed you, Liam, my cum dripping out of your ass and your mouth. The only thing you’ll be able to see or smell or taste is me.”
“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chants. “I want it. I want you. Please, I’m… I’m about to—”
“Pull the dildo out,” I order with a growl, all while still stroking myself faster and faster. “Take it out and stop touching yourself, brat.”
“What? No!” Liam wails. He makes another sound, though, and I assume he’s pulling it out from the way his breathing changes. “Ryker! C’mon. Let me touch my cock, please.”
The desperation in his voice only adds to my own mounting pleasure, along with the knowledge that he’s going to go unsatisfied again.
“No,” I say, and Liam whines again.
It’s such a delicious sound.
I grunt and give myself over to orgasm, coming all over my hand while Liam continues to beg.
He’s still begging when I come down from the high, and it sounds like he’s holding back tears.
“Just imagine how good it’ll feel when I take you the next time,” I whisper. “So fucking desperate for me. You want to tell me your last orgasm wasn’t the best you’ve ever had?”
“You suck,” Liam mumbles.
“Maybe next time I’ll suck you off,” I say idly while I reach for the toilet paper in the glove compartment. “But I’ll stop before you come. I’ll edge you all night long, until you cry. And if I like your tears, maybe, maybe, I’ll give you an orgasm.”
“Ugh,” he says. “You’re the worst.” But no matter what he says, his voice still carries that desperate need.
It’s a heady, intoxicating feeling, knowing how deep I’ve burrowed into his mind.
“I’ll stop by soon,” I say as I wipe my hand and cock clean. “I have to do the funeral. Pretend I care about my brother and cry crocodile tears. Comfort my parents.”
It sounds so tedious already.
I’d much rather be torturing Liam.
“You’d better. Have fun with the fam,” he replies. “Don’t forget the onion.”
I end the call and stare at the car dash. It’s so tempting to get back on the highway and speed my way to New Bristol.
But I do need my family to think I’m ‘normal,’ whatever the fuck that means.
I tuck my cock away and start up the car.
I’d told my mother I was going to see Madison, so that’s what I need to do. Hopefully Madison will be one of those people who wants to grieve in peace. Or maybe she’s too busy comforting the kids so she won’t have time for me.
After a ten minute car ride, I stare at the run-down single-story home that my brother owns.
Owned.
I think the last time I visited this house was three years ago, for somebody’s birthday. Maybe I delivered a gift for one of the kids. Mostly I pass my gifts on to my mother, who then gives it to the children.
There are no extra cars parked out front. If Madison has friends over, they didn’t drive.
I get out and walk up the few steps to the front porch to knock on the door.
It takes her a moment, but then Madison flings the door open. She throws herself at me, trying to wrap her arms around me even as I take a step back. “Ryker!” she says with a sob. “Phil’s gone.”
“I know,” I say.
Is my voice sympathetic? Do I sound like I’m grieving?
I realize that I know how to be nice and charming, but I have no fucking clue how to be sympathetic or sad.
There really is something broken about me, beyond the whole serial killer thing.
Or maybe that’s why I’m a serial killer.
“Thank you for coming over,” she says, opening the door wider. “Please, come in. Do you want something to drink? Phil… There’s beer in the fridge if you want it.”
I step inside, despite how little I want to. “Beer’s fine,” I say. “How are the kids?”
She leads me into the kitchen, grabbing a beer out of the fridge and offering it to me. “They’re in shock,” she says, her voice hushed. “None of us can believe it. Nancy even tried to tell him not to go. Maverick wanted to go with him, though, heaven forbid.”
I open the can and take a sip of the piss beer. It tastes like shit compared to the stuff I had with Liam and his rich friends.
I almost smile about that, but I have enough control over my expressions to remain dour-looking.
This is what I get for letting the rich brat spoil me with good food and drink.
“Good thing he didn’t,” I agree. “Shit, that would have been bad.”
We sit down at the kitchen table, and for a while, there’s an awkward silence. My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I wonder if it’s Liam, complaining about how hard he still is.
“How long are you staying in town for?” Madison asks.
I shrug. “Until the funeral, I guess. I’ll have to rearrange some work things.”
“Is that all?” she asks, sounding dismayed. “Your parents could use your help, and the kids would be grateful to have their uncle around. It’s so hard right now, after all.”
She’s still angling for me.
My brother—her husband—just died, and she’s still angling for me.
“The kids will like me more if I have money to pay for presents,” I say, sipping from the can again. “That’s the best way for me to help Ma and Pa out too.”
“But you being here would be more helpful for a little while,” she hedges. “I could use some help going through his things. A big, strong man and all.”
I have no idea how to respond to that. It’s like she thinks I’d be interested in her with my brother out of the way.
The thought gives me pause.
With my brother out of the way.
She’d said she’d wanted him dead.
“Who was the friend?” I ask quietly.
“Friend?” Madison repeats. “What friend?”
I clench my fists on the table. “The friend who took Phil hunting.”
Madison averts her eyes. “One of his coworkers,” she replies. “Ben.”
“Ben,” I say flatly. “Ben, your ex-boyfriend from high school? That Ben?”
She gets up and gets a glass, and I see that her hands are shaking as she pours herself some water. “Yes, that Ben. He didn’t do anything wrong by taking him hunting, Ryker! How was he supposed to know something would happen to Phil?”
I rub the bridge of my nose. “No, of course. How could you possibly know?”
A rustle alerts me to something outside the kitchen. I see a pair of toes poking out from the side of the kitchen doorway. Probably one of the girls.
“If anyone investigates, they’ll ask questions,” I say to Madison. “About how you know Ben, what your relationship to him is, why he even took Phil hunting.”
She takes a sip of water, leaning against the counter. I can practically see her scrambling for answers that I don’t think she even has. “It was just an accident,” she insists, but her voice is weaker. “If you’re trying to imply something else happened…”
“Yes, I am implying,” I say. “You practically told me you wanted Phil dead, Madison.” I stand up, leaving my beer can on the table. “You could at least have the decency to mourn him before you throw yourself at me!”
I don’t want to be here anymore.
I want to be in New Bristol, with a mouthy twink, carving him up and not worrying about all this fucking family crap.
“I didn’t mean it!” Madison protests. “Maybe I’m not that sad he’s gone, but that doesn’t mean I had anything to do with it. It was an accident.” Panic flits across her expression. “You aren’t going to… I didn’t do anything wrong.”
Is she better than me because she got somebody else to do the dirty work for her? But in the end, she’s a murderer.
Maybe if she were male, she’d have a chance.
But she’s too late either way. I’ve already got the only person I need.
I shake my head. “I don’t care anymore,” I say to her. “If you’re lucky, they won’t call in outside help to investigate.”
I head out of the kitchen. Nancy gasps and takes a few steps away from me, her eyes wide.
I ignore her and continue toward the front door.
“Ryker!” Madison calls out, following me. She stops when she sees Nancy, and she freezes. “Nancy! What are you doing? If I’ve told you once not to eavesdrop—”
It gives me the opening I need to leave.
I slam the door as I leave and get back into my car.
Shit.
I can’t stay. I don’t want to be pulled in for interviews and questions about Phil and Madison.
I pull out my phone to text my father.
Ryker
When’s the funeral?
Pa
Thursday
Two days. I need to avoid everyone for two days. Then I can leave and never come back.