Chapter 21
TWENTY-ONE
DARCY
W hy does Tyler have to be such a goddamn dickhole? No, he’s worse than a dickhole. He’s the bacteria growing on a sweaty guy’s ballsack.
I watch as Ridge’s hands flex and curl into fists slowly. It’s clear Tyler hasn’t noticed, because he’s busy staring up into Ridge’s face with what I think is supposed to be an intimidating expression. But I’m only scared of what might happen to him if he doesn’t back off.
Just before I’m about to step between them, Tyler’s friend Perry steps in.
“Hey, man, there you are,” Perry says. “Come back here with us.”
He tugs on Tyler’s arm, pulling him back toward another table with three more guys at it. I only know Perry a little and don’t recognize any of the others, which makes me uneasy. I don’t know what kind of people he’s hanging out with these days. When we were together, a few sketchy guys would come around now and then, and I got the same anxious feelings I have now.
Ridge turns toward me, pulling my attention away from them and back to him.
“Are you okay?” he asks, concern in his eyes.
“I’m fine.” I grip tighter at his side.
Lyric leans her head on my shoulder, looking up at Ridge.
“I’m okay, too,” she says, teasing.
Ridge laughs. “Something tells me you don’t let anything bother you, Lyric.”
“You know me so well already,” Lyric says.
“Listen, I’m not worried about those guys,” Ridge offers,“But if you are, I’ll make a call.”
“A call?” I ask. “To who? The police?”
Ridge laughs, shaking his head. “No, I was thinking the guys.”
Well, now this is a conundrum. Because I’m not really all that worried. Ridge strikes me as the type of guy who can handle things when they get out of hand. And those guys are so wasted, they probably wouldn’t land a single punch before they tripped and fell.
But on the other hand, I do want him to call the guys. I like them. They’re fun. And I think Lyric would like them too. Maybe even hit it off with one of them. I have to admit, I haven’t really cared for anyone she’s brought home lately. She doesn’t like anyone I date either. So the running joke is that we use each other as a sort of thermometer, both convinced we won’t like anyone but “the one.” And by that logic, it’s clear neither of us have met Mr. Right.
“Invite them,” I say finally. “I’m not worried, but invite them anyway. They’re fun.”
Ridge laughs, nodding. “I’ll text our group chat.”
“I would pay a lot of money to be a fly on the wall of that chat,” I say, leaning into him.
“What if I don’t want your money?” He taps away on his phone.
“Then I would pay you in sexual favors.”
Ridge stops typing for a moment, looking up at me from his phone screen.
“Are you sure about that? It’s actually pretty boring in here,” he says, wiggling his phone at me.
“You guys are too adorable to be around,” Lyric says. “I’m making a trip to the bar. Invite more people for the love of pickles so I’m not a third wheel.”
With that, she walks off, and before Ridge can even ask, I inform him that pickles are her absolute favorite thing and she may in fact be eighty percent pickle juice on the inside.
A few minutes later, she’s back with a round of drinks. And a few minutes after that, Waylon, Banks, and Killian stroll in. I watch as the crowds of people literally part like the Red Sea as they move toward us.
I’ve noticed the same thing happening with Ridge. People just stop and stare for a few moments. Not that I blame them. Maybe their impressive physical stature is part of it, but I think it’s mostly the tattoos. Or rather, the way the two come together to form the perfect storm in one delicious specimen. And to see four of them at the same time? It scrambles your brain a bit.
“I just want you to know,” I whisper, leaning in closely so only he can hear me, “that you and your friends are like, really hot.”
“Oh yeah?” he says. “And which one of us is the hottest?” He raises his eyebrow at me in such a way that suggests there’s only one answer that’s acceptable.
“Oh, I don’t know. I think it would be best if I saw all of you shirtless before deciding,” I tease, poking at his sides.
Ridge’s hand slides over my hip, and he grips my ass tightly as he pulls my body flush to his.
“What a little brat you are,” he says, then pulls me in for a kiss.
“If you guys are going to do that all night, can you tell me now?” Waylon’s familiar voice breaks our embrace and I giggle.
“Thank you!” Lyric says, taking a sip of her drink. “What the tattooed cowboy said.”
“Waylon, darlin’,” he says, holding his hand out to Lyric. “The name is Waylon.”
“Lyric,” she says, placing her hand in his.
Instead of shaking it, he pulls it to his mouth and plants a gentle kiss across her knuckles.
“Lyric? That’s a pretty name,” Waylon says. “But I’m still gonna call you darlin’.”
“Oh god,” Lyric says, rolling her eyes. “Give me your hat.”
He pulls the black cowboy hat from his head and hands it over with a surprising amount of willingness.
Lyric sets it on her head, then makes a couple of small adjustments as she checks herself out in the reflection of a nearby surface.
“Okay, for as long as you let me wear this hat, I will tolerate you calling me darling.”
“It’s darlin’.” He leans over the table toward her. “Gotta drop that G at the end and say it with your soul.”
“Ope, sorry. I don’t have one of those.” She tips her new hat in his direction and then disappears into the crowd beyond her.
“Well, I’m invested in that,” Ridge whispers down to me, his attention on their interaction.
“Guys, we got eyes on us,” Killian says, hitching his thumb over his shoulder in Tyler’s direction.
Ridge fills them in on who Tyler is and what happened when we got here, then he admits that while he doesn’t think they’ll do anything stupid, he wanted them here just in case.
But he’s right. Tyler and his friends never come back over or say anything to any of us. When I pass him going to the bathroom, he doesn’t even look at me, just straight ahead. Maybe he was willing to run his mouth when there was only one tattooed guy and he had the numbers. And Tyler’s group still has the numbers, but I’m guessing he’s not feeling as confident in his boys as I am in Ridge and his guys.
Just looking at the two groups of men, they’re total opposites—one is made of boys wearing cargo shorts and baseball caps, while the other is a group of men with button-ups and boots. The only hat? A respectable black Stetson. Need I say more?
We spend some time on the dance floor, and I’ll tell you another thing men do better—dance. We sway and kiss, touch and laugh. Lyric dances with Waylon. Banks is very popular with some other ladies there. And Killian quietly sits at our table, watching our drinks and clocking Tyler every few minutes.
At the end of the night, we all pile into an extra-large Uber and drive to the house I share with Lyric. And normally I would leave her hanging with people she just met, especially guys, but something tells me I can trust them. She doesn’t seem to mind either.
I walk Ridge back to my room and shut and lock the door behind us. Laughter erupts from the other side, and it’s clear they’re all still having a great time. But me? I’m ready to peel out of these clothes and feel the weight of Ridge’s body on top of mine.
“Remember the hotel?” he asks, sliding a hand very slowly up my back.
“Yes.” I breathe deeply as he pulls at my zipper, undoing the back of the dress and letting it fall off my shoulders and down the length of my body until it hits the ground.
“And do you remember the sex toy you accidentally dropped in front of me and then said it was for your face?” He grins.
My eyes shoot open as I literally stop breathing. “I’m sorry, I don’t recall such a thing happening.”
“Show it to me,” he says, laughing.
I pout a little, slumping my shoulders as I retrieve it from the drawer in my nightstand. Holding out my hand to show it to him, I realize no other guy I’ve dated has ever even asked if I owned a toy, let alone wanted to see it.
“It’s a lemon,” Ridge says, surprise in his voice.
“Yes, it is.” There’s a nervousness to my response. I don’t know why. “I know he’s an odd shape, but he’s very effective.”
“He’s a he? Even though he’s a fruit?” Ridge raises an eyebrow at me.
“Yes, he is. And in fact, he’s knighted.”
“What?” Ridge tilts his head, thoroughly amused but seemingly trying to make sense of this.
“His name is Sir Clit Suckerton and I love him!” I might’ve said that too loudly and a bit too proudly, but it’s how I feel, dammit.
“Show me.” Ridge takes a step back and crosses his arms over his chest. He nods to the bed behind me, a devious look in his eyes.
I place Sir Clit on the edge of my mattress and strip to nothing, never breaking eye contact with Ridge. I palm the toy and crawl partway up the bed before rolling to my back. Then I spread my legs, eager for him to see all of me. There’s something about the way he looks at me, drinks me in. It’s like I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. And I don’t know much, but I know that sort of confidence boost is doing wonders for my self-esteem. It’s been in need of repair since Tyler shattered it.
“This isn’t going to last very long.” I give the warning because it’s the truth. I press and hold the button until it’s on, then turn the speed up only one level.
I press the vibration to my nipple, surrendering to its sensation. I move the toy down over the flesh of my stomach and thigh before trailing up the center of me. My body responds, twisting and arching as Sir Clit hums.
From the corner of my eye, I catch Ridge pulling his shirt off over his head, muscles flexing in the light from my desk lamp.
The tip of the toy connects with my clit, sucking it gently. I close my eyes and hear the distinct sound of Ridge’s belt unbuckling, a shuffle, and then his weight on the bed. I don’t feel his touch, though, like I thought I would next. I open my eyes and see him still at the end of the bed, his knee on the edge of the mattress. He’s stroking himself and watching me. His eyes drift over my center, up my stomach and tits, and to my face.
“Look what you do to me,” he says, breath heavy. “Look how hard you make me and you’re not even touching me.”
My gaze roams over where his hand is stroking his magnificent cock, the one that makes me feel so fucking good. The one that makes me absolutely feral. I skirt up his muscled stomach and chest and make eye contact with him.
“You’re a beautiful creature.” I don’t think I’ve ever called a man beautiful before, besides maybe a celebrity. And not to their face. But it’s the truth. And it’s only fifty percent about the way he looks.
“And you’re my feral honey,” he whispers. He smiles. “Now come for me, baby. Please.”
The sensation building inside propels me as my knees begin to wobble. My toes tuck themselves in tightly, and my free hand claws at the sheet beneath me. Before I know it, I’m crying out, screaming and whimpering. I try to cover my mouth, but I know the whole house just heard me, which makes me begin to laugh.
Ridge presses a finger to his lips, suppressing his own laugh as he climbs on top of me. He wraps his hands beneath me, holding me tightly as he kisses all the giggles away.
I look into his eyes and see nothing but beauty. He’s patient and kind, sweet and thoughtful. He’s humble but carries a sense of pride. Ridge is the best kind of father, loving and attentive. He’s sacrificed for her. I was never really a religious person, but that part in the bible when they talk about what love is and isn’t… well, he fits the description.
He’s not perfect. I don’t believe in perfection. I believe when we look past flaws, that’s a different way of saying we ignore them and focus on the perfect parts. What I prefer is that we look at those flaws, we embrace those flaws as part of a person, and we don’t use them as a weapon against them later.
We kiss tenderly, passionately, and the sex is the same. I can’t help but think this is not fucking as we’ve done before. This is making love. With every slow thrust, I feel more connected to him.
After, he lies behind me and presses his chest flush to my back, tangling his legs with mine. His mouth is lined up with the shell of my ear, and I close my eyes, lulled by his rhythmic breathing.
As much as my body is sated and ready to sleep in the safety of his arms, my mind is still reeling from all the love and flaws and Ridge clouding my thoughts. I know I said I don’t believe in perfection, but boy does he come close.
And it’s starting to scare the hell out of me.