Chapter 74
Rip’s phone is ringing off the hook, violently vibrating itself right off the nightstand that’s too far away to care. He doesn’t so much as stir, and I’m ready to throat punch him so he does something about it.
I’ve been awake since it started buzzing twenty minutes ago, but I’m a stubborn bitch who doesn’t want to get out of bed.
The phone Rip gifted me starts buzzing under my pillow.
Inwardly, I scold myself for bringing it to bed, but I needed something to drown out Ripley’s snoring—the volume of which could easily rival whatever his favourite daily dinosaur is—and my comfort show does just that.
It easily smothers all other sound as soon as the intro song starts.
I get sucked in so fast I can’t help but clap along at that one part, startling my bedmate every time.
My brain knows every upcoming line, and because I recite it in my head, I forget all things around me while devouring Kyle’s hidden tub of ice cream.
Knowing I won’t recognize the number calling me, I slide my hand under the fluffy pillow, silencing the vibrations. I don’t know who has my number other than Ripley, so I refuse to answer. A single buzz rattles against my palm as my irritation grows. Who’s fucking texting me?
Unknown:
It’s Bucky, Glitch had her babies.
I add his number to the contact list as my annoyance quickly disperses, then send a reply.
Rose:
That’s great! Send pics?
Bucky:
Sure, but you have to come see them, they’re adorable.
Attachment.
The little hairless sugar gliders aren’t near as cute as I expected. I can actually see why Rip calls them rats now.
Rose:
I’ll let Ripley know when he wakes up. You at Bleakcrest?
Bucky:
Yep. The gang’s all here. Kyle, Shantel, and I did a rotating shift to watch Glitch last night.
Excitement tingles through my veins.
Rose:
We’ll be over as soon as possible.
Bucky:
Righteous! Bring food please?
Rose:
You got it, Grandpa.
Bucky:
OH MY GOD I’M A PAPA!!
Rose:
Congratulations!
Bucky:
Thank you. Thank you.
Rose:
Should I bring the champagne?
Bucky:
Definitely! It’s a celebration!
Rose:
Can’t wait! See you soon!
Bucky:
Oh, it's going to be a day to remember, that’s for sure. One with so much excitement it could kill you.
“Whoever you’re texting over there is about to die.” Ripley’s deep, sleepy voice is laced with jealousy, and it ignites a wildfire inside me.
I’m going to pull up to that hell hole, Rip’s cum smeared across my lips with a smile on my face, as Shantel seethes internally.
“And why is that?” I reply. “You’re the one who gave out my number.”
“For emergencies,” he grumbles, rolling my way as I toss the phone to the nightstand.
I overestimate catastrophically as it bangs into the wall, ricocheting off with a dent.
The device slides into my empty water bottle, then clatters to the ground.
I wince at the sound as Ripley covers his head with a pillow.
The metal water bottle rolls, teetering on the edge, before it too falls to the floor with an echoing metallic tinging.
He muffles what I’m sure is a snide comment beneath the pillow, and I pull it away.
Shit, he’s breathtaking. All ruffled, flustered, and sleepy. “Bucky’s rat had babies, he deemed that an emergency.”
“Of course he did. We should go.”
“We should,” I agree, slinking my body down the mattress and ducking beneath the covers.
“Ro—” I silence whatever he was about to say with a swipe of my tongue up his shaft. His cock hardens almost instantaneously as he bucks against my teasing. “Ah, shit,” he breathes. “Let me see you.” Ripley tugs away the sheet, watching the way my tongue savours him.
“Is this okay?” I ask, and he nods.
I slip my lips over his tip, readying to take him deep.
“Wait…” he whispers. Pausing, I look up at him. Ripley reaches over the side of the mattress, hand slipping between it and the boxspring, pulling out a set of cuffs.
Oh.
He lays them on his stomach, eyes dancing with trepidation-laced excitement when they meet mine. “Put them on me,” he rasps.
A delicious shiver rolls through me as I curl my finger around the metal, sliding the restraints down Ripley’s gloriously naked body. His cock flexes when I grip them in my hands. They are flimsy, cheap things, with an easy-release switch on the side.
I’m about to comment on how weak they are…
how he could break them with nothing more than a flinch.
However, the thought halts me in my tracks.
Maybe that’s why he picked these specifically for himself.
It will give the illusion I’m in control, that he’s submissive, even when he’s truly not at anyone’s mercy.
Something I know he’ll never truly want to be again.
Smiling slow, seductive, “Gladly,” I reply, crawling my body up his.
Ripley’s breaths quicken as I clasp one wrist. “Move,” he growls.
“What?” I squeak, starting to get off him in case I did something wrong.
His strong hands grip my sides, stopping my advancement as he shoves me up the bed. “Sit on my fucking face, and chain me to the headboard.”
Tingles travel through me like singeing embers, breathing life to the fire smouldering in my core. Despite the fact I’m supposed to be in charge, I bend like a blade of grass in a tornado, giving him exactly what he demands.
Righting myself in my seat, I pull down the visor, checking myself out in the small mirror to ensure I’m presentable for brunch. Unfortunately, my eyeliner is smeared, mascara streaked from tears, lips swollen.
“Fuck, you look beautiful,” Ripley coos from the driver’s seat, turning off the main road onto Bleakcrest’s winding driveway.
I look wrecked, but part of me wants to show up like this just to piss Shantel off as much as possible.
“You’re not too bad, yourself, stud,” I reply, his taste lingering on my tongue.
The closer I get to Shantel’s demise, the more ravenous I become for the man beside me.
Even now, mere seconds away from being seen by Ripley’s guards, I want to climb astride him in that seat.
Pin him beneath me, and constrict his muscular body with the seatbelt so he’s mine to play with.
I’ve been on him like a hound in heat since I ground my revenge into a fine toxic powder.
I pull a makeup wipe from my purse, careful to not have Rip snag a glance at the little glass bottle tucked inside.
“Think Bucky will be annoyed we’re so late?” he asks, pulling in beside the purple El Camino. Shantel’s cherry red Porsche Cayman sits further down the line, and gods, I want to fuck it up beyond repair.
I shrug. “He’s the one that asked me to get food.”
“Not candles and gifts though.” Rip smiles, turning my way.
“It’s a celebration, candles and a new cozy hammock for the rodents are necessary.”
“The rats won’t care, sweetheart.”
“I know, but Bucky’s doing so much for me to find Chelsea, I just want to be nice and say thank you. He deserves it.”
“You’re an angel, you know that?”
Angel of death, maybe.
“If I am, then so are you,” I answer, wiping the final stubborn spot of makeup.
Perhaps the gifts are from a mix of guilt and thanks, but when I look inside myself, I don’t care. Bucky may not deserve the grief, but Ripley’s more important. Shantel’s existence is an ever-growing stain upon his soul.
Rip exits the jeep as I let down my hair. His fist fucked up my bun as he held me on his cock, thrusting into my throat with the aid of cruise control.
I re-do the topknot as he crosses in front of the vehicle, watching me with a fervour I don’t tire of seeing. When I finish, he opens the door for me.
Reaching around to the backseat, I grab the cinnamon buns, and jug of coffee from Maple Jacks, passing them to Rip. I retrieve the two shopping bags, fishing out the card I snagged, and a pen from the pack I grabbed last minute.
In glittery gold block letters, with colourful confetti in the background, the front of the card says ‘Congratulations on the promotion!’, but inside it’s blank.
I thought it was fitting, seeing how Kyle and Bucky both wanted a raise for all their trouble.
However, I’m drawing a complete blank with what to write on the inside.
“Here, let me,” Rip says, laying the food on my lap and placing the jug of hot coffee on the gravel momentarily.
He leans over me, slipping the card and pen from my grasp to write against the dash.
The tendrils of his scent wrap around me, tugging me close.
I brush my nose up the column of his neck, breathing him in, as desire makes me hungry. “Rose,” he growls, trying to focus.
“Hmm?” I murmur, kissing softly over his skin.
“What’s gotten into you?”
“Hopefully, you,” I reply.
“Behave,” he mutters, pen scrawling across the page. “Or we’ll never get out of the driveway.”
Pulling away, I mumble, “Fine.” Plastering a comical, over-dramatic pout on my face as I cross my arms and sit back in the passenger seat.
“I’ll make it up to you, flower.” Ripley slides the card into the envelope, flicking his tongue over the centre of the adhesive strip before sealing it closed.
He’s not doing me any favours, showing off that sinful thing.
All I remember is the way it delves in deep as he consumes me like a starving demon.
Shooting me a wink before he backs out of the Jeep, Rip waits for me to follow. Quickly, I try to compose my self, but my pussy is on a fucking warpath.
“Need a minute?” His stupid cocky grin sends a flush rushing through me.
“Yes, I need a fucking minute,” I snarkily mock, rolling my eyes.
He gathers up the bags, swipes the jug of coffee up from the ground, and backs slowly away. “Come on, baby, the fresh cinnamon buns won’t stay warm forever.”
Ugh, he’s right. That was the whole point of getting them hot and fresh from the oven, warm glaze drizzled over the tops. They’ll be impossible to resist mixed with the drool-wooly aroma.
I slide my purse over my shoulder, and exit the Jeep, closing the door with my hip as I hold the buns in both hands.