11. Ridley
ELEVEN
RIDLEY
After a long day, there’s nothing better than sinking my teeth into a sexy ginger, and there isn’t a sexier ginger than the one inching his way up my body right now. I sense his hesitation and search my mind for ways to help him relax and truly, completely let go.
Is it our pre-existing relationship that’s holding him back? Is it the location we choose for our hookups? Is it past trauma? Maybe all of it? I want to find out and unlock the cage he’s put himself in. I can just imagine what Wren is like with no holds barred.
And right now, I’ve got his pretty cock in my face. No time like the present. I slide my hands over his hips, gently kneading his flesh, my eyes taking inventory of everything from the way his chest moves, to his tongue wetting his lips, to his lusty gaze.
“You’re so hot, Wren,” I whisper. “You know that, right?”
He shrugs, not committing to an answer. That’s okay. He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who’s aware of how captivating he is.
“I’ve been waiting all day to get my hands on you again.”
Wren nods, subtly rubbing against me as he straddles my neck area. “Here I am.”
With my hands planted on his ass cheeks, I tug him forward until the tip of his cock brushes my lips. He shivers against me, and the moan he releases when I part my lips and suck on his cockhead is stunning.
I knead his ass, hoping I’m convincing him without words to go hard and fuck my throat. He’s tentative at first, but then he leans over me, gripping the couch armrest to get the best angle before pumping his hips.
Nodding, I relax my throat, letting Wren have his way with me, drowning in requited lust. I don’t want to think about all the times I lay in my bed or stood in my shower, my hard dick in my hand as I fantasized about sucking him off.
Now it’s happening, only it’s way better in real life.
The brain can do a lot, but it can’t completely replicate the sounds he makes when he’s chasing his orgasm, or the warmth generated between two bodies, or the taste of his precum exploding on my tongue.
“Riiid,” Wren moans, twitching as he relaxes, allowing his cock to slide farther down my throat.
I swallow around him, my own dick throbbing with need. I reach between us and slide my hand into my sweats, wrapping it around my erection and giving it a few tugs as I lose myself in Wren.
Images of me fucking Wren, or asking him to fuck me, flood my mind. My hole clenches in response to the fantasy of his thick cock stretching me open, plundering me from the inside, finding his confidence with each thrust.
“Fuck,” I mumble as my precum coats the head of my cock.
Wren shifts from an awkward half plank so that his knees are planted on either side of my head, and as I get a flash of his expression, I think he just found the spark of abandon I was hoping for. He twists my hair around his fingers and pumps his hips, aggressively fucking my mouth.
I can’t see his face anymore, which is a bummer, but it’s an okay trade for what’s happening right now.
“Rid,” he mumbles. “Oh fuck, Rid.”
“Yesss.” I encourage him, speaking with a mouth full of his dick. My jaw is getting sore, which is fucking awesome. “Want your cum,” I manage, fisting my cock in time with his hip thrusts.
“Fuck,” he moans. “Fuuuck.”
Wren tenses as the first rope of cum lands on my tongue, signaling to my body that we can follow his lead. I moan as my mouth fills with his cum and my hand is coated with mine. With my free hand, I stroke his ass and fuck my fist until I’m shivering with sensitivity.
Wren has his head thrown back, riding the wave of his orgasm until he’s finally empty. He slumps next to me, half sitting up, one leg draped across my chest as we both catch our breath.
Before I can do anything else, voices come from the stairwell and we both scramble to get presentable. Within seconds, I’m sitting up with a pillow on my lap to hide my damp sweats and Wren is clear across the couch from me, dragging a hand through his unruly curls.
Jerryn and Bane peek in through the entry. “Hey, guys,” Bane says. “Whatcha doing?”
I shrug. “Watching a movie.”
“What is it?” Jerryn asks.
Ugh, no, guys. Not right now.
“We were still deciding,” Wren says, sounding only slightly rattled, all things considered. “What are you guys doing up?”
“We got the latest Z Universe game,” Bane says. “We were gonna wait until tomorrow to play but we’re kind of excited.”
“Oh, you wanna use the TV?” I ask, glancing nervously at Wren.
“Nah,” Bane says. “We just came down to get some snacks and head back to mine to read over the strategy guide. They made some major changes to game play.” He leans against the entry casing, arms crossed as his eyes shift between me and Wren. “Unless you guys want company?”
I try to keep my face neutral. “I’ll probably go up soon. I’m actually feeling tired.”
“Yeah.” Wren stretches his arms out.
Bane grins at me, making it clear he at least suspects something, but Jerryn—sweet summer child Jerryn—just smiles, completely clueless.
“Come on, Jerr,” Bane says, grabbing Jerryn’s arm. “I hope we still have those jalapeno chips.”
“Ooh, me too.” Jerryn’s voice trails off as they head down the hall.
Once they’re gone, Wren exhales like he was holding his breath, then surprisingly, he bursts into laughter, unleashing my own. We shush each other, cracking up so hard my cheeks hurt, until Wren focuses on my face and his laughter fades into a soft smile.
“That was fun.”
“Definitely.”
“Did you…” He glances out to the hall. “Finish?”
I nod. “Sure did. I’d like to get out of these sticky sweats now.”
He grins. “I bet.”
Jerryn and Bane pass us again, talking excitedly and munching on chips as they climb the stairs.
Once they’re out of earshot, I put the pillow aside and get to my feet, offering my hand to Wren.
He takes it, and when he stands, we’re face to face, mere inches separating us.
He searches my eyes and his lips part. I’m expecting him to say something, but he smiles and puts a little space between us instead.
With his spell broken, at least temporarily, I grab the remote from the coffee table and turn the TV off. We walk up the stairs together in silence, pausing when we reach the hallway.
“Guess I’ll see you in the morning?”
I nod, low-key wishing he was coming inside with me to warm my bed, but we’re not those kind of fuck buddies. At least, not yet.
“Night, Wren.”
Inside my room, I peel my sweats off and wash up real quick in the bathroom before sliding between my sheets completely nude. My mind replays the feeling of Wren’s cock down my throat and his sweet, tangy cum flooding my mouth, over and over until sleep finally drags me under.
“Drinks up,” Florian yells over noise of the late-night crowd filling the bar.
We’ve got two rowdy birthday groups in tonight, along with the ubiquitous Friday night customers. We’ve got regulars, but also more and more people coming in from the city for cheaper drink specials, delicious food, and a safe setting.
I grab the tray of drinks—another round of shots for the birthday boy just turning twenty-one—and give Florian a nod.
“Aw, to be young again.”
He laughs. “I’m still young. By the way, they’ve got one more order in them before they’re cut off unless they slow it down for about an hour.”
“I know. I’ve kept track. They’ve had more people join though, so I’m watching to see who gets the shots.”
He nods, glancing at the table. The birthday boy has a chill, alcohol-fueled smile on his face, but everyone is being cool so far. We’ll keep an eye on them.
“They live on campus, at least,” I add. “So they don’t have to travel to get home.”
“Cool.”
I deliver the drinks, chatting with a girl who is switching to water so she can make sure they all get back to their dorms by the time the bar closes in three hours.
If this is any sign of what next week’s summer celebration is going to be like, all I can do is pray to the bar gods that we can keep up. It’s all hands on deck, with Stewart and Oakley helping out most nights too.
Indy and I meet at the order station, and when he glances at me, his face lights up. “Can you believe this? It’s crazy.”
“Guess your instincts were right.”
“Yeah. Feels good that I didn’t drag you all here to fuck up your lives.”
I throw my head back in laughter, clapping his shoulder. “We were never worried about that.”
“Good.”
“I better go check on my food.”
“See ya.”
I hurry to the kitchen, and when my eyes land on Wren, dressed in his chef whites, easily commanding the kitchen staff, and ensuring everything meets his standards, all my chill falls away.
I feel like a puppy in his presence, desperate for attention and belly rubs.
And cum. I definitely want more of that.
He glances up, and the only break in his composure is the crimson blush flooding his cheeks. He grabs a ticket, calling out food orders to a round of updates from his team.
“One hour,” I say, leaning on the counter that separates us.
Wren nods. “They’re keeping us on our toes tonight.”
“Us too.”
“What are you waiting on?”
“Wings and rings.”
“Two minutes,” he says. “Saucing them up now.”
“I got two minutes.”
Wren nods, his eyes capturing every movement and action in his kitchen. It’s wild how he stays on top of it all. I think I’d be overwhelmed.
I watch him choreograph orders and check on his line cooks, testing doneness on burgers and crispiness of fries. Damn, this man is gorgeous.
“Order up,” he says, sliding the tray of food toward me.
“Thanks, man.”
I exit the kitchen, hoping I come across as chill as I’m playing it. Thank fuck there aren’t any feelings involved, or I’d be even worse. I spend my waking hours jonesing for another hit of Wren as it is.
After delivering the food to my table, I pause to take in the place, visually checking to see if anyone needs anything. All looks calm, so I turn to go out to the patio for a minute of fresh air, when I’m blocked by a familiar face.
“Hey, Ridley.”
The man in front of me is an adorable twink, and suddenly, memories of our night together flood my mind. And that’s why he doesn’t look exactly happy to see me.
“Remember me?”
I nod, forcing a smile to my face. “Yeah. Yeah, of course. How are you?”
“What’s my name?”
“Um, I…” I open my mouth and close it several times, like a gaping fish.
“You don’t remember.”
“Names aren’t really my strong suit, but I remember you, of course.”
He twists his lips, glancing over his shoulder. “Why did you ghost me?”
I scrunch my nose. This is why, my guy. I wanted a hookup and you wanted romantic dinners. “It wasn’t personal.”
“I don’t believe you. I just want to know what I did wrong. I thought we had fun.”
“We did have fun.” I tug his arm off to the side to get out of the way of people. “Listen, man, I swear it’s not you. I’m just not a repeat kind of guy. I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings or made you feel like shit.”
He nods, gazing up at me with doe eyes. I do remember him.
He was eager to do anything I wanted and could suck a golf ball through a hose.
I met him at a bar in New Onyx when I was out trolling one night, and after buying him a drink, I was sold.
He seemed chill and on the same page, until he got majorly clingy after his orgasm.
“Is this just an older guy thing?” he asks. “It seems to happen a lot.”
“I’m not the over-forty spokesman, but maybe it’s more about intentions than age.”
“What do you mean?”
“If you’re looking for something more substantial, then hooking up with a random guy at a bar probably isn’t gonna be it.”
He scrunches his cute nose. “Yeah, but how else do I meet men who aren’t my age?”
“I’m hardly the guy to give relationship advice.”
The pout on his face is cute, and I’m reminded of what drew me to him in the first place. I put my hand on his shoulder, gently squeezing.
“Tell me your name again?”
“Matty.”
“Listen, Matty, you’re hella cute, man. You’re sweet too. Don’t let a guy like me get in your head.”
He nods as a slight smile tugs at his lips. “You’re right. It stings sometimes, you know? I thought there was a spark, but it was obviously one-sided.”
“It wasn’t. It was a different kind of spark though. For me it was…” I shrug.
“A hookup. I get it. I’m glad I saw you though. You were a ghost I needed to exorcise.”
“Glad I could help.”
The kitchen doors swing open and Wren steps out, his eyes landing on Matty, then me, then focusing past me as he walks out to the bar.
My stomach does a little flip just from the sight of him, and suddenly no one exists but him. Okay, so I’m a little obsessed, and a few rounds with him haven’t dampened my enthusiasm yet. Maybe I have a chef kink. Clearly, I have a ginger kink.
“Ridley?”
I jerk, looking back at Matty. “Yeah?”
“Thanks for talking.”
“You bet.”
I watch him walk to the table with his friends, then turn to go to the bar. Wren’s face is blank but his jaw is clenched. Did something go wrong in the kitchen?
“What’s up?” I ask.
Florian shrugs and turns to make another drink, leaving Wren practically glaring at me.
Okay. I’ve definitely missed something.