Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
I FaceTimed Dad out on the porch while Ryker settled in.
I’m not particularly fond of burdening him with the details of what’s going on at home when he’s training, so we kept the conversation light and short. I didn’t mention that someone broke into our house and left an ominous note, or that Noah went back to work a week early. Dad doesn’t need the extra stress, and I was nervous that if he thinks I’m unsafe here in Deadwood, I’ll never convince him I’m ready to be on my own in Austin.
After showering, I changed into little pajama shorts and an oversized T-shirt, forgoing a bra since I was going straight to bed to take a nap anyway.
At least, that was the plan.
Now that I’m clean and refreshed, the sheets are too scratchy, the sun is too bright, and my brain is buzzing too loudly to sleep. I also can’t stop replaying the conversation I had in the living room with Ryker when he caught me checking him out.
For a second, my attention-starved brain thought he was saying he was tempted to throw it all away for a single taste of me . But if that was the case, why would he double down on reminding me he’s not interested?
Ears burning and feeling a little pathetic for thinking anyone would actually be interested in me, I throw off my comforter and hop out of bed. Since I’ll never get to sleep like this—and I can’t exactly watch television when the only TV is in the living room—I might as well go grab the book Isabel lent me so I can hide out in here for the rest of the day.
Hoping Ryker’s already zonked out, I cautiously slink out of my room, wincing each time the aging oak floor creaks beneath my feet. Other than my obnoxiously loud footsteps, the house remains quiet.
“Can’t sleep?” Ryker calls out.
I curse under my breath, then square my shoulders and round the corner where I find Ryker slouched on the couch, still fully dressed with the blankets and sheets I set out for him folded neatly on the coffee table.
“Yeah,” I choke out. “I’m kind of wired after being up all night.”
“Same.” Removing his hand from its resting place atop his death’s-head hawk moth belt buckle, he sits up a little straighter. “Should we put on a movie to make up for the missed movie night?”
My chest pinches.
“Don’t let Dad and Noah fool you, we haven’t had a movie night in months,” I say with a slightly bitter-sounding laugh. But even I can admit his plan sounds way better than lying in my bed, staring up at the ceiling while I pretend to read a book. “Could we watch one of my shows?”
“Sure.” He laughs when I shimmy with excitement, bouncing from one foot to the other before plopping down next to him.
I lean forward, my butt hovering off the couch as I reach for the remote on the coffee table. “Do you need me to get you up to speed?”
“Give me a quick run down,” he croaks, voice strained, like he’s got something stuck in his throat. When I settle back into the couch and glance over, his eyes are closed.
Ignoring the sudden shift in the air, I mull over how to summarize the plot. “It’s a vampire show. The only thing you need to know is that the main female character is part fairy and can read minds. Oh, and we like the tall blond love interest, not the brunette. Vampire Bill can suck a big one. No pun intended.”
Ryker’s eyes crack open. “Got a thing for blonds, Princess?”
Appalled, I tuck my chin into my neck. “ Ew , no. But I do have a thing for morally gray.” I cross my legs and flip on the TV. “Do you have any questions, or should I just start it?”
“I’m sure I can figure it out.” His gaze drops to where my bare leg is pressing against his jean-clad thigh. Good Lord , any closer and I’d be sitting on his lap.
I lift my knee, attempting to fold in on myself and give him space without making a big deal or drawing attention to his discomfort, but before I can, his rough palm lands on my inner thigh, pushing my knee firmly against his leg, as if to prove he’s fine.
“Start the show,” he grits out, voice so low I feel it in my stomach. Jittery, I press Play, but when the show starts, the only thing I can concentrate on is the heat of his hand still resting on my thigh.
Ryker says something, but it’s drowned out by a chorus of breathy moans emanating from the television where an orgy unfolds on the screen. Panic sizzles in my blood, my throat all but closing at the sight of the naked, sweating bodies undulating in the glowing light of tiki torches.
Oh God. When did it get so hot in here, and why is this so much worse than when a sex scene pops up while Dad and Noah are in the room? Can Ryker feel how much I’m sweating?
“Willa, did you hear me?”
“Huh? Sorry, what?” My voice is high-pitched and squeaky, and I have the sudden urge to bury my face in my hands and dart from the room.
“Is it the tiki torches in the show?” He grabs the remote, fast-forwarding to a scene without flames before relaxing back into the cushions like nothing happened.
“What? Oh, right. Maybe?” I breathe out, not wanting to admit it was the on-screen sex that got me all hot and bothered. “Fire in movies and on TV doesn’t usually bother me, though.”
“How does it work, then?”
“How does what work?” I clip, echoing his response from when I asked that same question up on the water tower.
“When you see fire.” His green eyes meet mine. “What does it feel like?”
For a few seconds, all I can do is blink. Then I shake my head. “You keep doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“Asking me things no one’s ever asked before.” I bite my lip, trying to think of a good way to explain it. “You know when you hydroplane in the rain and there’s that one second when you lose control and you’re convinced you’re about to crash and die?”
He nods.
“Well, my body reacts exactly like that when I see fire. All my muscles lock up, my heart rate goes through the roof, and everything freezes. Even when the logical part of my brain recognizes that I’m fine, the rest of me just doesn’t get the memo.”
Ryker’s eyes are still locked on mine, but he doesn’t say a word.
“Is that what being touched feels like for you?” I ask, taking in the hard set of his jaw and the rapid movement of the pulse in his neck.
His hand flexes on my thigh, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows and dips his chin. “Pretty much.”
“Is it okay that I’m this close?” My voice is so low it’s almost a whisper. “I can move to the other couch if you want me to.”
Teeth clenched, he briefly closes his eyes—as if battling with himself. “If you can hold a lighter to your tongue, I can sit next to my best friend’s little sister and watch TV.”
Ouch .
That’s not the simple yes or no response I would’ve preferred, but the pointed reminder that I’m his best friend’s sister does reiterate his disinterest. Which again has me feeling like a moron for the way my body reacts when he’s close. “Can I ask you another question? ”
“Go for it.”
“When we were up on the water tower, you said touch was fine as long as you were the one initiating. In the future, how do I avoid making you uncomfortable by accident, like I did by sitting too close? What can I do to make things easier between us?”
Ryker shakes his head, mumbling something under his breath before saying, “I already fucking told you, I’m not uncomfortable.”
Annoyed by his shitty tone when I was so candid with him, I fold my arms across my chest. “No need to get snippy. It was a legitimate question, and it’s not like I asked what I can do to make being intimate with you easier.”
“Fucking hell,” Ryker chokes out, breaking into a small coughing fit before glancing over at my wide-eyed and probably stunned expression.
I can’t believe I said that out loud, but it’s too late to take it back now. I might as well keep going. “Vulnerability is a two-way street. You can’t ask me personal questions and not answer any yourself,” I quip, once again surprising myself. “You might get away with using that pretty face of yours as a deflection tactic with everyone else, but it won’t work on me.”
Ryker’s face lights up. “You think I’m pretty?”
“You know you are,” I say with an eye roll. “And from what I hear, everybody at your school knows it, too.”
“Have you been asking around about me, Princess?” His mouth twitches up on one side.
“Isabel,” I supply simply, angling my knees away from him in the hope it might make breathing a little easier.
“I see.” He follows the movement of my legs with a frown.
After a long stretch of silence, he roughly drags a hand through his hair. “There’s nothing you need to do differently around me. You’re already trying harder than most people do, and I promise you I don’t mind.” He sighs. “As for your other ridiculous fucking question, intimacy has never been an issue for me.”
Not wanting to scare him off but needing to show him I appreciate the reciprocated honesty, I slowly turn my body toward him. “Why not?”
“The girls I’ve been with have a very clear understanding of what our time together means. They aren’t looking for a relationship and neither am I. They also never touch me unless I let them.” I must look confused because he sighs again—this one slightly growly and annoyed—before he keeps going. “I’m more of a giver.”
“Oh…” My eyebrows furrow as I try to process, but then I remember Isabel’s story about Ryker and her cousin.
The first time they had sex, he blindfolded her, tied her hands behind her back, and made her explode like a pleasure pinata for several hours.
Although inexperienced with actual orgasms, I’ve enjoyed playing around with the lead-up. I also read spicy books and occasionally, when I have the house to myself, diddle around on Pornhub or other adult sites, exploring what turns me on in search of the elusive Big O… Or at least I used to before the Texas State Legislator started regulating adult entertainment websites and blocked access. But that’s neither here nor there.
I have more than enough material to run wild with all the possibilities of what being “a giver” means, as evidenced by the mental montage flashing through my brain: women on their knees, head control blow jobs, restraints, begging to be allowed to come…
Although, I suppose in those situations the woman is the one giving?
More mental images float to the surface of my fucked-up brain: women being eaten out with their legs spread wide, getting fingered while bent over someone’s knee…
Spankings.
Suddenly overheated, I swallow audibly and return my attention to the TV, which Ryker seems to appreciate because he sinks back into the cushions.
“You shouldn’t have asked,” he says after a few tortuously long seconds .
I really shouldn’t have, but not for the reasons he thinks.
One episode ends and then another, neither of us speaking and a solid four inches separating us on the couch. Despite my best effort to keep my eyes open, I begin to drift somewhere into that peaceful space between dreams and wakefulness.
I’m vaguely aware of some sort of battle happening on the television, but I’m too warm and comfortable to open my eyes. Or at least I was until the sound of slapping flesh and moaning once again echoes through my living room, bringing me back to full awareness.
Not again. Why didn’t I put on a different show?
My eyes pop open to take in my surroundings, but I immediately regret it. Not only is there an insanely hot vampire-on-human fuckfest unfolding on the TV, but Ryker and I are now horizontal on the couch with his arm wrapped around me and my body draped halfway on top of his.
My torso is firmly sandwiched between him and the back cushions, and judging by the drool on his shirt, I’ve been using his incredibly toned chest as a freaking pillow. Worse yet, I’ve somehow managed to toss my leg over his waist and there’s a very hard mass digging into my inner thigh…
I should get up, but I can’t seem to move as the vampire on screen continues to fuck a girl who’s been suspended from the ceiling by her wrists. She moans in ecstasy, her breasts bouncing with each hard thrust, which of course only spurs the blond vampire to fuck her harder.
My heart rate picks up, and my clit pulses.
“I can see why you like this show,” Ryker says gruffly, his fingers digging into my upper waist while he, too, watches the girl on screen get absolutely wrecked.
Shit, now he knows I’m awake.
Cheeks aflame, I reach for the remote on the coffee table, but I’m too deep in the couch and my arm doesn’t even come close. Frantic as the sound of fucking intensifies, I rock my body and then try again, stretching with all my might .
Ryker tenses beneath me, and I launch myself over him, barely touching the power button before I topple off his chest and careen headfirst toward the floor. At the last possible second, his hands fly to my hips, saving me from smashing my nose. With barely a grunt, he lifts me up and effortlessly sits me atop his lap.
“Thanks,” I say breathlessly, bracing myself with two hands planted precariously low on his abdomen. When I glance down, Ryker’s brows are pinched, his attention locked on something between my legs.
“What the fuck happened there?” he demands, abruptly spreading my knees apart with one hand, while using the other to trace the sensitive skin of my inner thigh.
Unable to form words, I close my eyes and shiver from his touch.
“It’s a fucking moth,” he says, continuing to trace some sort of pattern dangerously close to my pussy.
My eyes fly open and my muscles go rigid?—
Did he just say a moth?
Panicked, I lean forward and squirm to see what he’s talking about before sighing in relief. It’s not a real bug, thank God, but he’s right, there is a pink indentation of a moth surrounded by delicate little flowers right below the inseam of my thin cotton shorts.
My head cocks to the side, and I’m about to ask where the hell it came from when it dawns on me. “It’s the impression of your belt buckle.”
“I branded you,” he whispers, voice low and husky as he drags his thumb over the indentation. Every cell in my body hums to life at once. I think I even scoot forward, subconsciously yearning for him to move a few inches north.
When he swipes his thumb just a fraction of an inch higher, jolts of electricity dance across my skin, shooting straight to the now-throbbing bundle of nerves at the apex of my thighs. I let loose a breathy sigh, drawing my lip between my teeth to stop myself from doing it again.
“Do you like it when I touch you like this, Princess?” he says, the heat in his smoky voice seeping into the deep recesses of my rapidly clouding brain.
Too nervous to speak, I bob my head.
“Tell me what you like about it and I’ll keep going.” It’s a command this time—one with a very enticing payoff that has arousal flooding to my center with renewed force.
Everything about this feels dangerous, but I need him to keep touching me, and somehow that drive is overriding the nervous flutter in my belly and silencing the self-doubt in my head.
“I like—” His thumb slides a fraction of an inch higher, making the heartbeat in my clit go wild. “I like the way I feel when you look at me, but when your hands are on my skin?—”
I shudder, remembering the way he spanked me. “It’s like all the noise in my head shuts off. All I can think about is how I want more. How much I need you to…” My voice trails off, unable to verbalize what I’m feeling, but Ryker nods like he understands.
A second later, his hand leaves my thigh, moving to my mouth where he uses his thumb to tug down my lower lip. “Has anyone touched you here before?”
I suck in a sharp breath. “Once.”
Ryker’s chest rumbles in what sounds like a displeased growl, but he doesn’t say a word as he runs his palm down the length of my neck to rest over my racing heart. Eyes locked on mine, his palm shifts to the left, gently cupping my heavy breast over my shirt. When his thumb grazes across my peaked nipple, my core clenches with a heady mixture of heat and desire.
“What about here?” His voice is so low I feel it vibrating everywhere . “Has anyone touched you here before?”
“ Never ,” I breathe out on a sigh, clenching my thighs around his waist to stop myself from grinding against him like my aching body begs me to as he massages my breast.
This time, the answering sound he makes is low and pleased. “Is this what you wanted from me, Princess?”
Brow furrowing, I slowly shake my head from left to right .
“Because you want more?” he prompts.
I nod, and he rewards me by kneading my nipple between his fingers.
“Show me where you want me to touch you,” he whispers.
Body trembling, I wait for him to dip his chin before placing my hands over his and guiding them down the length of my torso and up under the hem of my shirt. Terrified and elated all at once, I guide him to my breasts and then shiver—the feel of his rough palms on my bare skin ten thousand times better than my own when I was listening to his phone call on the porch.
Ryker’s movements are deliberate and glacially slow as he takes control, cupping both breasts and lightly flicking my nipples.
“I’ve been thinking about these perfect fucking tits since the eclipse,” he growls, pushing them together under my shirt and lightly rolling my peaked flesh between his fingers until my clit is throbbing so furiously I’m sure I’ll explode.
I lean into his touch, and I think I moan or maybe gasp. Whichever it is, Ryker responds by grabbing my waist and thrusting upward, forcing my aching core onto the hardening bulge in his jeans.
“Princess,” he groans, sliding his hands up and down my torso before settling on my hips and bucking up again. “If you keep grinding against me like that, we’re going to cross a line we can’t come back from.”
I hadn’t realized I was grinding on him, just that the growing heat in my belly had spread into my chest while little bursts of ecstasy streaked up my spine. Now that I know, I still can’t seem to stop myself from slowly moving back and forth across his rigid length. Especially when each roll of my pelvis is aided by the gentle pressure of his thumbs on my hip bones and fingers on my ass.
“What if I want to cross that line?” I pant, rocking against him with increased urgency.
“ Fucking hell.” Ryker’s eyes are desperate, his movements frenzied as he thrusts against my center and groans again. “Fuck it, keep going. Make yourself come like this.” His voice is low and guttural when he issues the command, sending a cascade of chills across every surface of my skin.
Gaze locked on his, I bite my lip and grind my hips again, and again, each heated wave of pleasure winding my body tighter and tighter until it feels as though I might snap. When I lose my rhythm, Ryker takes control.
“Fuck, that’s hot,” he grunts, the muscles in his forearms straining and flexing as he zealously guides me back and forth atop his hard length. The added friction of his coarse jeans through my thin shorts only heightening the sensation. My eyes flutter closed. His movements are so much rougher and quicker than mine that tiny panting moans spill from my lips unbidden. It barely takes a minute before my spine starts tingling and I’m about to burst.
“Ryker— Oh God. Please don’t stop,” I whimper.
His pupils flare, and his cock grows even harder beneath me while a devilish grin spreads across his full lips. “Fuck, that’s it, Princess. Keep going?—”
Someone pounds on the front door, and Ryker bolts upright, holding me against his chest as my approaching crescendo devastatingly slips beyond my reach.
Disoriented, I follow the direction of his gaze to the window where an off-white 1980s Cadillac Eldorado is barely visible in the gravel driveway.
“ Dammit ,” he bites out. “What the hell is Kane doing here?”
With my brain less clouded with lust, there’s just enough room for reality to slip in. Was I seriously just dry humping Ryker Bennett in the middle of my living room…with all the curtains open in broad freaking daylight?
Dread pools in my stomach. Noah is going to kill me…
“Did he see us through the window?” I whisper-shriek, heart racing in my throat.
I attempt to climb off Ryker’s lap, but with my arms pinned between us and the death grip he has on my waist, I can’t move.
“Kane didn’t see anything,” he says reassuringly, the dark edge in his tone softening as he grabs the white strand of hair draped over my eye and tucks it behind my ear. “Even if he did, that’s his problem, not ours.”
I laugh awkwardly, shivering when his hand trails to the back of my neck. “But Kane wouldn’t say something to Dad or Noah if he did see anything, right?”
Ryker’s face falls, his full lips pulling into an impossibly tight line. “ Fuck .”
Still clutching me to his chest, he rises to his feet and slides me down the length of his body, making sure I have my footing before stepping back to adjust himself. It doesn’t help. Like, at all. Even when he shoves his whole hand into his jeans to try again, the denim is still so tented it’s almost comical.
I bite my lower lip, a self-satisfied hum buzzing through my blood with the knowledge that I did that to him. It was my body, scars and all, that made him hard.
“ Fucking hell ,” he grumbles following the direction of my gaze to his dick.
Kane pounds on the door again, and Ryker scowls as he calls out, “I need a fucking second.” Then his attention snaps back to my face, his jaw firm and eyes blazing.
“Don’t even think about finishing yourself off without—” His mouth clamps shut, and after one more angry shake of his head, he stomps across the room, leaving me with my heart in my throat and a ghost of a smile on my lips.