Chapter 8 Titan
Chapter eight
Titan
“So, what did you two do all day without me?” Barrett asked over dinner.
Ruby flicked a quick glance at me before grabbing her cup and gulping at her water.
“The bookstore, of course,” I said. Which seemed like the safest, neutral answer. “Ruby found a few romances that will keep her cozy and warm through the long, cold winter nights, I think.”
She coughed and thumped her chest, turning beet red. I chuckled and stabbed at my potatoes.
No pizza or wings tonight. Instead, Barrett had cooked up a proper, healthy meal when he came home from his shift at the fire station. Steak and potatoes, with a side of sauteed rosemary mushrooms and a crispy cobb salad. The man knew how to make a house a home, I’d give him that.
Barrett shook his head, cutting into his steak.
“Ruby’s taste in romantic literature has always been five-alarm-fire-spicy in the heat department. I try not to look too closely at what she reads.”
“It’s called living vicariously through fiction,” she countered, waving her fork in the air with a speared mushroom. “I would have thought you’d be happy that I’m content to read about these borderline psychopathic billionaires or criminal Russian bratvas instead of dating one.”
Barrett laughed softly.
“Believe me, I count my lucky stars every day for that. What else did you torture Dean with today? Did you take him to see the gingerbread house display at the town hall?”
Ruby avoided her father’s gaze, suddenly fascinated with her potatoes.
“I knew I was forgetting something! I’ll add that to the agenda for tomorrow.”
A beat of silence settled over the table. Barrett shifted his attention to me.
“Is that it?” he prompted. “You were out pretty late. I had to keep the steaks warm until you got back. Did you really spend all that time at the bookstore?”
Shit. Barrett was a smart man. He would be able to smell if something was off.
Were Ruby and I ready to spill the secret of our relationship right now though? Over dinner?
“The clubhouse,” I said. Since that part was true, and I owed my best friend that much. “Dash and I agreed to surprise the girls with a few drinks. And it seemed only fair that Ruby got a taste of a few biker Christmas traditions, after everything she’s put me through so far.”
Barrett raised his eyebrows, but I could see the concern in his gaze. I couldn’t imagine a father would take it lightly that his twenty-five year old daughter was hanging out at a biker bar.
“The clubhouse.” He cleared his throat. “I mean no offense to the company you keep, Dean, but please tell me you didn’t let Ruby out of your sight.”
“No, sir. I did not.”
In fact, I kept her pinned beneath me where no man could even look at her, let alone touch her.
“Dad,” Ruby objected. “I can take care of myself.”
“I never said you couldn’t," Barrett replied. "It’s just…a precaution. And if you get pregnant with a biker’s baby, you will be the one who breaks that news to your mother. Not me.”
She gave a loud, dramatic groan.
“Oh my God, Dad. Stop.”
I stifled a laugh into my napkin.
After dinner was over and we began clearing away the dishes, Barrett stretched his arms over his head with a sigh.
“Dean, can I interest you in some bourbon or scotch? I’ve got a few bottles in my den that I’ve been saving up for a special occasion. Ruby hates the stuff. And I don’t really like drinking alone.”
“I’ll never say no to a glass of bourbon or scotch,” I replied.
“Perfect. Be right back.”
Then Barrett was gone and suddenly I found myself alone in the kitchen with Ruby. That sexual tension between us was beginning to bubble up again. As soon as Barrett had turned the corner, Ruby grabbed my belt and tugged me close. Standing on tiptoe, she stole a quick kiss.
“Ruby—fuck—are you trying to get us caught?” I hissed.
She draped her arms around my neck, pressing her tits against my chest. I groaned as my self-control crumbled. In an instant, I had my hands under that damn mini skirt again, squeezing her ass.
“Of course I’m not trying to get us caught,” she protested. “But you look so good that I can’t keep my hands to myself.”
God, those puppy brown eyes could melt the strongest man’s will of iron.
“We have to tell your dad, honeybee,” I said. “Sooner, rather than later. I don’t like sneaking around behind his back like this.”
She sighed.
“We’re not sneaking. We’re just…”
“Not telling him,” I said with a stern look.
She winced and wrinkled her nose.
“I’m working on it, okay?”
“What’s the hang up, baby?” I asked, tilting my head to look in her eyes. “Do you think he’ll be angry?”
Ruby hesitated, fiddling with the frayed, worn stitching on my cut.
“This—us—it’s going to change everything,” she said softly. “And Dad will be in this big house all by himself. Mom remarried. Now I’m with you, and on top of all that, I’m taking away his best friend. I don’t want to blindside him with that right before Christmas.”
Yeah, I could understand why she wasn’t ready to open that can of worms just yet.
“After Christmas then,” I said definitively. “No excuses.”
Ruby beamed, bouncing on her toes. Just as she kissed me again, Barrett’s voice emanated from the hallway.
“There isn’t much bourbon left, but the scotch has barely been touched.”
Ruby and I split apart. I busied myself with opening the cabinet and grabbing two glasses. Ruby stacked plates in the sink, scrubbing at them.
Fuck, I couldn’t keep this up. It was too stressful. And it churned my stomach to hide the truth from my best friend. I wanted to celebrate with him—we would be officially family now.
But there was a tug of doubt in the back of my mind, too.
What if Barrett hated me for dating his daughter? What if our friendship couldn’t survive this?
For the rest of the week, Ruby and I had to be on our best behavior. And she was terrible at it. Whenever an opportunity popped up to touch me, she took it.
Grazing her fingers through my hair when she passed behind me.
Touching my shoulder with a laugh when I cracked a bad joke.
It seemed innocent enough—Ruby had always been tactile before. But I knew her. She was doing this on purpose to rile me up, for the same reason that she flirted with Psycho intentionally to make me jealous.
My suspicions were confirmed on Christmas Eve, when the house was quiet. The faint glow of light from the Christmas tree seeped through the crack beneath my door. A shadow slipped by and paused outside my room. It was probably Ruby, tucking last-minute gifts into stockings or under the tree.
A full minute went by and the shadow didn’t move.
Then the rattle of my door knob cut through the stillness of the night.
The door eased open slowly with a faint squeal of the hinges.
Ruby appeared in silhouette on the threshold, wearing tiny pajama shorts, and a white tank top.
Even in the dim light, that thin, tight fabric revealed more than it concealed.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I hissed.
“I was cold,” she whispered, tiptoeing toward my bed. Using the cajoling, pleading tone that she knew I couldn’t say no to.
“Liar,” I grumbled. “Your dad keeps this house hotter than Florida. If you actually wore decent clothes—”
I broke off as Ruby climbed up my mattress and peeled the covers back.
“Ruby, no—”
She giggled, burrowing into my bed and snuggling close. Wrapping her arms and legs around me like a koala.
“Shit,” I exhaled.
“You were saying?” she prompted. The little minx.
Her clothes were so damn thin that I could feel her nipples against my bare chest, and the heat of her pussy, resting just above my groin. I smoothed my hand over her waist, palming her ass.
Yep. That’s what I was afraid of. No panties.
My cock twitched. I closed my eyes with a groan.
“I thought you didn’t want to fuck under your dad’s roof,” I grumbled.
Ruby hummed, lightly kissing the curve of my neck, my jawline, the corner of my mouth.
“Who said anything about sex?”
Gripping handfuls of her ass, I rutted my hardening cock against her pussy. She gasped, arching against me, rocking her hips to meet mine.
“Your body seems to be screaming it loud and clear," I said.
Ruby huffed a laugh, sucking a bruising kiss into my neck. Swearing under my breath, I worked her shorts down, curling two fingers into her slick pussy to open her up. She made a contented noise deep in her throat, nuzzling and nipping at my ear.
Clearly she didn’t have the patience for a proper warm-up, and neither did I. With a few frantic pumps of my cock, I pressed the crown to her entrance, radiating unbearable heat.
In one deep stroke, I buried my cock inside her, balls-deep, sheathed in her scorching, heavenly silk. Ruby let out a shuddering breath.
Neither of us said much in the dark, driven purely by the chase of pleasure. I shoved my hand up Ruby’s tank top, palming at her tits. Then I dipped my head to taste her, biting lightly at her nipple.
“Dean,” she whined, breathless. Squirming on my cock as her walls flexed and fluttered.
My brain went blank, driven by an animalistic need to make my woman come. I thought of nothing else but her as I clutched her hips and thrust up into her, again and again. The slap of skin against skin filled the room—probably loud enough to be heard from the hallway.
Ruby sank her teeth into my shoulder to muffle her whimpers. The sharpness of her bite made my cock even harder if that was possible. Hooking my arms under her knees, I spread her legs wide, using my shoulders as leverage.
Every stroke hit deeper at this angle, pulling a sinful moan from Ruby’s lips. I could feel her pussy sucking me in. Gripping my cock tight with a slick squeeze.
Mine filled my head with each driving thrust. Mine. Mine. Mine.
When her legs started to tremble, I fumbled to reach her clit, with my own impending orgasm making me sloppy with desperation. Ruby sucked in a breath as her body seized, coming with a needy whine.
I fucked her through it as long as I could hold out, until my orgasm hit and I locked up, buried inside her.
A flicker of movement beyond Ruby’s shoulder drew my attention. The red numbers on my nightstand clock showed midnight.
I smiled, kissing Ruby’s neck. Slowly flexing my hips into her soaked, sensitive pussy.
“Merry Christmas, honeybee.”