19. 19 Ryder
19: Ryder
I can't fucking stand waiting.
Every second that drags on feels like it’s a minute too long. I pace the room for the tenth time, boots scuffing against the floor, the sound grating on my nerves. It’s like my insides are vibrating at a frequency too high to ignore.
It’s been two days since I saw the SUV shake with whatever fun Blaze and Tori were having after she literally shielded us from Diablo. Three days since the damn wall was almost knocked in when Tori and Thorne had their claiming.
Where the fuck is my turn?
I get that I should be focused on taking Nico down, I should be letting her focus. And she has been, she’s been taking charge in a way I didn’t know was possible. Seeing her plan—boss around Juan like he’s not some hulked-out beef of a man—has been more fun than I care to admit, but now I’m horny as hell, and she still hasn’t spared a glance my way.
It’s now three in the morning and I can’t get a fucking wink of sleep. Maybe she wants me to make the first move. Maybe after everything that happened with Nico, I should give her space. But if Thorne can fuck her like a wild animal, and Blaze can take care of her in the car, why can’t I have her in a bed?
Fuck it.
I am not waiting anymore.
I stop my pacing and stare down the door to my room like it’s going to tell me not to go. With a deep sigh, because let’s get serious, I don’t do well when I’m not in control, I quietly exit and head down the hall to her room. I know she’s in there, probably asleep, dead to the world. Very slowly, and so quiet that I can hear my heart thundering in my ears, I open her door without knocking, slipping inside like a shadow.
To my surprise, her eyes are on me, wide open and questioning. I freeze, not having expected this turn of events, but that’s just fine. With my smirk in place, I step forward into the moonlight cracking through the blinds of her window.
“I was wondering if you’d come. I could hear you pacing in there.” She smiles, and I know I just played into her hand. I’d be furious if I wasn’t so damn horny.
My erection could cut through wood right now.
“And here I was thinking you didn’t want me,” I tease her, never losing the playful grin I like to show her so much.
She raises an eyebrow, eyes glinting with that infuriating, confident look she pulls off so well. “Oh, I want you, Blue. Don’t get it twisted.”
“So we’re sticking with that nickname then?” I take another step forward, watching her as she sits up, leaning back on her hands.
“Maybe. Why? Do you not like it?” she asks, her eyes wide and feigning innocence.
“That’s not what I said.” I let my gaze wander over the curves of her body in the low light, lingering on the way she’s leaning back.
Fuck, she’s got the control now.
I can feel it in every move she makes. I should be pissed, but instead, there’s a dark thrill shooting through me. She sits up straighter, her lips curling into that smirk I’ve come to love, and before I can say another word, she shifts forward, closing the gap between us. She's on her knees, her hand brushing against my chest, and the fire inside me ignites, a flame I’ve been trying to ignore for days.
“Are you playing games with me, Kitkat?” I catch her hand before it can drift lower, weaving our fingers together, my grip tight but gentle.
Her gaze softens for a second, and she’s quiet for a beat too long. That silence is enough to pull my focus from the heat between us to the sudden shift in her expression. She sighs, her eyes averting my own. “Ryder, I...” Her voice falters before she can continue, and I can tell she’s choosing her words carefully, something I’m not used to from her.
My Kitkat thinking before speaking is end-of-the-world-level shit.
“Talk to me,” I whisper, my knuckles grazing her cheek, hoping she’ll let me in. I’m not used to this. She's usually so outspoken, broken filter and all.
She doesn’t meet my eyes immediately, and I can feel the change in the air—the weight of whatever she’s holding back pressing down on us both. Then, when she does look up, her eyes are dark, uncertain. And the words slip from her mouth, almost too quietly to hear, like she’s afraid of what they might do. “It’s just… I’m scared.”
“Of what, baby?” The words are soft, gentle, but there’s a fire in me now, a protective rage that’s been building ever since I’ve known what she’s been through. She’s not alone in this anymore.
Whatever it is, I’m here.
She swallows, her voice catching in her throat. “You.”
The word lands between us with the force of a sledgehammer, and my whole body stiffens. I pull back instinctively, the room suddenly feeling smaller, like I can’t breathe properly.
“Me?” My heart stutters in my chest. I pull back, just slightly, the sudden rush of pain too much to ignore.
In the past I loved having her frightened of me, but this—this is different.
This isn’t the fun fright, this is the truly-scared-of-me fright, and I don’t like it.
She shakes her head quickly, almost like she’s trying to reassure me. But it doesn’t help. “Not necessarily you , but having sex with you.” She bites her lip, her gaze lowering, her shoulders slumping a little, like she’s ashamed of what she’s saying.
“Kitkat, you can’t just tell me that without telling me why. Did I do something wrong?” The words come out before I can stop them, sharper than I intend. My head’s pounding, every thought scattering like broken glass, and my heart—shit, my heart feels like it’s splitting in half.
“No.” She shakes her head as if I've said something wrong. “You didn't do anything wrong. It's nothing you did.”
“Then what do you mean?!” The words come out too fast, too loud, like a floodgate opening. I regret the sharpness, the frustration that bleeds through, but it’s there, bubbling up too fast. “Tori, tell me.”
I'm not used to dealing with fucking emotions like these.
“It wasn't you, Ryder.” She switches names again, eyeing me as if she's hoping I can read her mind, figure out what she's saying without saying it. Maybe I'm stupid, or maybe she's giving me more credit than I deserve, because I'm really not getting it.
“Then what, Tori?!” I take another step back, the pain in my chest amplifying with each word she speaks.
Her gaze flickers away, her fingers twisting nervously, a habit she can’t hide, a tell I’ve known for years. The silence stretches longer, and I feel like I’m suffocating under the weight of it.
“Nico,” she whispers, the name tearing through the air between us.
What the hell did that bastard do now?
“Nico?” I repeat, my voice low, jagged with anger. The image of that bastard’s hands on her sends a new wave of rage through me, a cold, murderous wave that threatens to swallow me whole.
She nods, “He tied me up, undressed me, and…” She trails off, but her fingers find the spot just below her collarbone. The spot where his brand is.
His fucking mark.
The image of her vulnerable, stripped of control, leaves me seeing nothing but red. But then I look at her face, and the anger in me cools, replaced by something deeper.
She doesn’t need a bull in a china shop right now. She needs comfort, promises, reassurances, and it's up to me to give it to her.
I understand it now, fully, truly. She's scared of what I'll do to her, or maybe she's scared of how she'll react to it. She needs to know that I would never hurt her.
“Kitkat,” I start, my voice gentler this time as I move back to her side, cupping her cheek in my hand. “We don’t have to do anything you're not ready for, okay?”
“Okay,” she nods slowly, her hand suddenly clutching onto the fabric of my shirt.
Green light means go, but maybe this is more of a yellow light.
Proceed with caution, Ryder.
I take a deep breath, settling by her again. My thumb strokes gently along her cheek, reminding her that she’s safe with me.
I feel her exhale, her body relaxing just slightly under my touch, but I can tell she’s still guarded, still unsure. The last thing I want is for her to feel scared of sleeping with me, to feel like I'm going to hurt her.
“Tell me what you need, Tori,” I murmur, brushing my lips over her forehead. The gentleness feels right, but the hunger in my chest is a gnawing thing, one I can’t ignore. It’s not just the need for sex, it’s for connection. For her to let me in.
Her eyes flicker to mine, dark and full of unsaid things. Then, just when I think she’s going to pull away, she leans in, her lips brushing over mine, soft and tentative. She tastes like sweetness and salt, a kiss that’s both comforting and burning with an edge of hunger.
I kiss her back, slow, long, feeling the warmth of her body pressed against mine. She makes a sound deep in her throat, and that’s when I slide my hand down her side, fingers dancing across the smooth skin of her waist, her thigh, because this girl always sleeps with just a shirt on. One of Thorne’s. Always one of Thorne’s.
She lays back, pulling me down over her. Her body shifts against mine, and I pull back just enough to see her face. Her lips are parted, her eyes hooded, and there’s something different in the way she’s looking at me now. Something deeper.
I move my lips to her neck, trailing kisses down her throat. She hums with approval, the sound a soft vibration that sends heat spiraling straight down to the tip of my dick. Every inch of her skin I touch is a reminder of how much she means to me, how much I need her, how I’d do anything to make her feel safe again.
I pull her closer, feeling the warmth of her body beneath my hands, and I start to undress her carefully, deliberately. My hands slide under her oversized shirt, pushing it up slowly, peeling the fabric from her body like it’s something sacred.
Her breath catches when I pull it over her head, and she’s left in nothing but her panties, the curve of her breasts just barely visible in the dim light. I take a moment to admire her—her soft, golden skin, the way her body fits perfectly with mine. I let my eyes linger on her, taking in every detail, committing it to memory.
So fucking perfect.
She looks up at me, and for a moment, I see vulnerability, but it’s mixed with trust, and that’s all I need. I slip my fingers into the sides of her underwear and slide them down her thighs, over her knees and through her feet, tossing them to the side without a care.
I remove my shirt next, tossing it aside, then let the waistband of my pajama pants and boxers slide down. I lean over her again, my lips pressing softly against hers, then trail them down to her chest.
Her hands move to my shoulders, pulling me back to her lips. I’m losing myself in the heat of it, in the way she shivers beneath me. I’m taking my time, drawing it out, because I know she needs me to.
Also, that's just kind of my thing. To tease.
To draw it all out and savor every minute.
My fingers trace the curve of her breasts, moving inward to outline her areolas before deciding to lean down and take the hardened bud into my mouth. Her soft moans are all the approval I need as I flick my tongue over her nipple. She arches her back, meeting me in need. I know I'm building up a hunger in her she won't be able to deny.
My hand inches down, sliding between her thighs to find her sleek center. Slowly, I insert my finger, just the tip, circling around her entrance while my thumb presses against her clit. In seconds, her want for me soaks my finger in her need.
Her hips sway against my hand, her moans increasing in volume and pitch. The way her fingers dig into my shoulders pushes me further. I don't push my finger in the way she wants. She doesn't need to beg, but she at least needs to ask.
I need some fucking control.
“Ryder,” she moans my name, a plea lacing her tone. “Please. I need more.”
“Oh, I can give you more, Kitkat. Don't worry.” The smile that spreads across my cheeks is too wide to go unnoticed, a surge of energy rushing through me.
Quickly, I shove my finger in, knuckle deep to hear her gasp in delight. Her hips grind with a new rhythm, but I can tell my finger isn't going to cut it this time. Her nails bite at my skin as she scratches my arm, holding me tight to her.
“Do you need more, Kitkat?” I rasp in her ear, and she nods. But I don't want a nod. I want words. I want to hear her say it. “Tell me. Tell me what you want.”
“I want you inside me.” She grinds harder, her voice a plea of absolute need.
“I am inside you,” I tease, hearing her groan in frustration.
“Fuck you, Ryder.” She digs her nails deeper, whether in need or in frustration, but I don't mind. “I want your dick inside me.”
“Your wish is my command.”
I lift to my knees, guiding her slightly until her body shifts and her ass is resting in my lap. I move slowly, easing myself into her, rung by rung, watching as she shifts beneath me, her body adjusting to the slow burn of it. Every inch of her is tight and warm, a perfect fit. She gasps, her hands clutching the sheets beside her, her body tensing as she gets used to me.
I sit inside her for a moment, enjoying the way her walls clench around my shaft. My fingers dig into her thighs, holding her tight. I stare down where we connect, enjoying the way her pussy looks with my dick inside it. A quick flick to her clit has her gasping and grinding again.
I'm so lost in her that I can't think straight. It takes everything in me not to hardcore pound into what's mine. But the thought of making her scared, of having her feel unsafe with me, keeps me still.
“I trust you, Ryder,” she whispers, her voice thick with desire.
The words make my heart skip a beat, and I take a deep breath, steadying myself. Her sentence gives me permission to be me—to an extent anyway. So without another word, I thrust hard and deep inside her.
My hands move up, leaning over her, my lips finding her neck again. I begin to thrust harder and harder, pulling back just enough to set the rhythm, letting her body settle into mine. She meets each movement, her fingers gripping my forearms, the tension between us starting to unravel.
Just when I think she’s found her rhythm, she presses her hand to my chest, pushing me back just enough to look at her. She shifts again, taking my hand and guiding it to her neck.
Her eyes flicker with a silent request, one I understand instantly. She's trusting me enough to take some control. She’s asking for me to hold her there, just as much as she’s asking me to lead.
I don’t hesitate. My fingers curl gently around her neck, feeling her pulse beneath my fingertips as I increase my pace, the pleasure and power building with every thrust. She gasps, her breasts bouncing, her breath catching as I tighten my grip, just enough to remind her that she’s mine.
Her body moves in rhythm with mine, her legs wrapped around my waist, her back arching beneath me. The sound of our breaths, the slick slide of skin against skin, fills the room. It’s raw, unfiltered, the way she gives herself to me, and I give her everything I have in return.
She shudders beneath me, her fingers digging into my skin as she comes undone. The warmth of her body tightens around me, sending me over the edge. I let go, surrendering to the feeling of her, to the heat between us, shooting my cum where I probably shouldn't—deep inside her.
We collapse together, bodies tangled, and I pull her close, keeping her pressed against me, kissing her softly. Her breath still comes in short bursts, but the tension between us has finally eased, replaced by something deeper, something that feels more lasting.
“Can I stay here with you?,” I murmur, kissing her forehead, my hand gently brushing her hair back from her face.
“Please,” she whispers back, and I know, with everything in me, that I'm never letting Victoria Reyes go again.