Chapter Two
Ryker
What the hell is wrong with me?
The bar is finished, and I’m finally settling back into mountain life. I need to focus on getting customers into the distillery, not obsess over Ivy.
A twenty-two-year-old girl.
A girl twenty years younger than me.
My best friend’s little sister.
A girl I don’t have any fucking right to want, to need, to think about… which is why I didn’t follow her home. I can’t.
This sick fixation has to stop. I can’t think about her round ass, her firm tits, the way her nipples poke through the fabric of her tank top, the way her voice gets all high-pitched and cute when she’s annoyed.
Fuck!
My cock twitches at the mere thought of her crossing her arms over her chest in defiance. She needs structure. She needs direction. She needs a man who’ll hold her, love her, and teach her right from wrong.
She needs me.
That thought is exactly why, no matter how many times I try to convince myself to stay away, I end up going after her again.
How could I not? My stomach is clenching in pain thinking about something happening to her on the walk back to her apartment.
Granted, it’s not that far, and Rugged Mountain hasn’t seen a crime in years, but I don’t want Ivy to be the first.
“Everything okay?” Marin, the bartender my brother hired for the day shifts leans across the counter for a bowl of cherries. “You look lost. Is this because Ivy left?”
“What?” I narrow my brows and twist toward her. “No. I’m thinking over what I need to order for this week’s shipment. The next supply truck comes this week. You been in the supply closet lately?”
The girl nods slowly, and I get the feeling she can see straight through me. “Yeah, what are you thinking?”
“How are we doing on pickles and olives?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. I think I saw a few jars. I could go check.”
“Yes, please.” I nod and lean up from the counter to grab a pad of paper from beneath the register. If I pretend to write shit down, maybe I won’t look as approachable.
At our parent distillery in the city, I take a back-of-house role. Archer is the one that takes care of the interpersonal and front-of-house shit. I much prefer it that way. It’ll be nice when he’s back from the bar expo.
I’m halfway through my fake list when the bubbling brunette returns. “Pickles are fine. We’ve got like eight jars, but we only have one olive jar left, and we’re low on cherries too.” She grabs a glass from under the counter. “Oh, and the blackberry whiskey is low.”
“About that,” I say, turning to Marin. “If Ivy comes back in requesting alcohol, please don’t give it to her. She’s… she can’t hold whiskey.”
Marin narrows her gaze as she stares down at the bar, and I get the feeling I’m going to get some entitled lecture. “With all due respect, I’m not going to refuse her. She’s a grown woman. If she wants to drink, she can drink.”
“Not at this distillery, she can’t.”
She hitches her hip and stares toward me like I’ve lost my mind. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No. Why would I joke about that?”
“I don’t know, ‘cause it’s hilarious that you think you can control everything.”
I shake my head and sigh. “It’s not control. It’s care. You wouldn’t let a friend drive drunk, would you?”
“Is she driving drunk? She wanted one shot.”
“And you gave her five.”
Marin narrows her brows as though she realizes the conversation is going nowhere, which was my intention. I use the opportunity to ask another question. “Also, I overheard something about an auction when you two were talking. What was that about?”
Marin shrugs and turns away, but the drunk woman in western garb that’s sat at the bar leans in. “The virgin auction. I heard her talking. She wants to be a star.”
My blood boils and my chest tightens. “I’m sorry?”
“I heard the girl with the pretzels and the pretty blonde hair,” the woman slurs. “She said she’s getting cash for the virgin auction. She’s going to be a star.”
I snap my gaze back toward Marin, who’s motioning something toward the drunk. “What the hell is going on?”
“I really don’t know.”
“You know something, ‘cause you’re waving your arms around like you know something.” The scent of charred oak drifts between us as I wait very impatiently for her to speak.
“I think maybe it’s a misunderstanding. I don’t even know Ivy. I just met her.”
“But you had a conversation with her. Did she say anything about a virgin auction?”
There’s a pause, and I know without another word that everything I’m hearing is true. It’s true and I’m sure now that’s where she’s going tonight.
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
A red haze washes over my vision as I storm out of the bar and down the street toward her apartment above the pizza shop. I swear to God, this girl has lost her mind.
A virgin auction? Why the hell would she sell her soft, sweet, innocent little body to some cash paying asshole who’s going to treat her like a fucking tool?
I’m not thinking straight. I should’ve taken time to cool off. Then again, what if she’s already with the piece of shit? What if that’s why she rushed out of the bar? What if he’s already inside, touching her, kissing her, stealing her purity?
I swing open the street level door and jog up the stairs two at a time until I’m face to face with her apartment door. It’s the only one up here, so there’s no number tacked onto the wooden entrance. There’s only a nameplate that she jokingly had inscribed with the phrase ‘Basil Lover.’
It does smell like basil up here. It’s pleasant, though I’m not sure I could handle the sharp scent of wing sauce that comes with it.
I tap against the door twice, but no one answers.
Jesus Christ! I should’ve followed her!
My chest constricts. What if she didn’t go home? What if this asshole who bought her online grabbed her off the street? What if she met up with him somewhere else? What if she’s locked up in a fucking basement somewhere on her knees for some other man?
I dig in my pocket for my keys. I don’t make it a habit of letting myself into her apartment on a whim, but these are extenuating times. I need to know she’s safe.
Turning the key upside down, I slide it into the lock and turn the knob, ready to fight for her safety. Instead, I’m met with a high-pitched shriek.
“What the hell, Ryker!” Ivy covers her bare breasts as I step into the room.
Fuck.
I stare a beat too long, taking in her smooth skin, her light blonde hair falling over her shoulders, her big, full tits, the soft curves of her hips, the crease of her pussy through her pink cotton panties.
Damn, she looks good. Really fucking good.
For a second, I let my mind go to dark, evil places. Places where I tug those panties down and lick her soft pink seam like a starving man. Places where I bend her over and make her mine. Places where the only man she ever touches again is me.
Good fucking God, I need to get a grip.
She’s twenty-two years old! Twenty fucking two!
I drag in a deep breath as I turn away, though I can still see her reflection in the hallway mirror.
Someone upstairs is testing me today!
My cock presses against my zipper as I swallow hard, trying to convince myself to look away before she drops her arms to the side, but I don’t.
“What are you doing here?” she snaps as I stay glued to the hallway mirror, staring at her full, perky breasts. Her dark purple nipples point outward and bounce as she shimmies her curves into a tight red dress, and my cock responds accordingly.
“Are you psycho or something?” she adds, tugging the dress back and forth until the V-cut in the neck is aligned with her cleavage.
I turn back, drinking in the picture in front of me, though hating that it’s meant for someone else.
How the hell is she so damn beautiful? How the hell is it that one woman got so many perfect attributes? Silky blonde hair, a pretty face, thick hips, big, ripe tits, and that soft, creamy little pussy.
My cock is going to explode as she steps past me close enough that the floral perfume she wears fills my nostrils with jealousy.
I can’t take it anymore.
My balls are tight, my cock is embarrassingly hard, and my heart is about to pound out of my chest. “I know about the virgin auction,” I blurt with zero context.
“What?” She stares at me, blue eyes wide as the sun filters in through the side windows of her tiny apartment.
“There was a drunk lady next to you at the bar. She told me everything.”
Ivy laughs under her breath as she grabs a pair of small gold earrings from a dish by the door. “Do you even hear yourself? Also, I called Benny, and he said you’re full of shit. He never asked you to watch me.”
I step closer. “Stop diverting. We’re talking about how you’re selling yourself online. Your body,” I glance down at her perfect shape and up again, soaking in the way the dress accentuates every damn curve, “why?”
“I don’t owe you anything, Ryker.” She swings open the door. “Get out.”
My mind blanks for a second as I stare at her. I’m usually calm, levelheaded, the one folks go to when they need something done with the least amount of emotional drama… but that guy isn’t here anymore.
My stomach clenches, my heart rate kicks, and all I can see is another man’s hands all over my Ivy, another man’s lips on hers, another man’s gross fucking cock inside of her, taking her innocence, helping himself to her most private places.
My face burns, my chest aches, and I want to find this man and make him wish he were never born.
I step forward, my body moving before my brain has made the decision as to what comes next. “No,” I growl, wrapping my arm around her waist as I lift her chin to meet my gaze. “I won’t let you.”
She stares up at me, blinking through long lashes, the warmth of her body closer than ever, her hard pearled nipples poking against my chest. “Or what? You kidnap me? You lock me in a basement and throw away the key?”
“If I have to.”
“Yeah?” She grins softly. “Well, I’m owed to a man now. A man who’s paid for my virginity, so… I have a feeling he might come looking if I don’t show up.”
“Why would you do this?”
She glances down then up again, her tone soft and less annoyed as she says, “I need a jumpstart. My apartment smells like a pizza buffet, and we both know I’m never getting out of it if I don’t get a decent job, but a nine to five isn’t for me.”
“Okay,” I narrow my brows and stare toward her, “what do you want?”
“A house. Some land. A little farm.” She blinks up at me, her dark red lips pouted slightly. “This money helps me get all that started.”
“I’ll buy you the fucking land, Ivy.” I groan low and press her body closer to mine without thought. “You’re not going. This guy wants to come looking, let him.”
She swallows hard. “I don’t want your money. I want you to get out of my way.” Her light blue eyes glitter in the afternoon sun as she stares up at me with the defiant little look she’s so good at.
“If you’re insisting on doing something stupid, I’ll have to take matters into my own hands.”
“Now I’m stupid?”
I shake my head and stare down at her, my gaze flickering from her eyes to her mouth and back again. “Meeting up with this creep is stupid. You don’t know who the fuck he is.”
“Yeah, that’s the point. It’s anonymous. I get paid, and he gets to do all the kinky little things he wants with a virgin pussy.” She shrugs as she speaks, as though it’s no big deal, like her virginity is nothing special, nothing sacred, nothing worth holding onto.
My blood boils and I back her against the wall, moving like a fucking animal. Who the fuck is this guy? I’m growling, chest pounding, shoulders rising as I move my body against hers until the curves of her frame are pressed up against me.
“That virgin pussy is m—” I cut myself off before I make a mistake. I can’t claim her as mine. It’s not right. She’s too young. She’s my best buddy’s baby sister. She’s off limits.
“What were you going to say?” she presses as her chest rises and falls slowly. “Tell me.”
Fucking hell, I want to tell her. I want to ignore every logical responsibility and tell her she’s mine. I want to tell her she belongs to me, and that no one else touches her ever again, but me. The words are on the tip of my tongue, but I know the taste they’d leave in my mouth once they’re said.
Apparently, my body doesn’t get the memo because my hand wanders up her back and onto her neck without permission. I will myself to stop but I only grip tighter.
Something is happening. Something primal. Something I can’t control.
My gaze drops to her lips, and I lean in, my heartbeat stumbling as my mouth hovers over hers.
God damn.
Her eyes close, and for a brief second, I swear she tips up onto her toes, our lips brushing together. Neither of us moves. We stay still, suspended in whatever’s happening, like statues under a spell.
Then again, maybe it’s my fucking imagination. Maybe I want her so badly, I’m imagining her lips brushed over mine. I’m imagining her breath is shallow. I’m imagining the yearning in her eyes.
Regardless, I want more. I want to lean in. I want her soft lips against mine. I want to hear the little moan she’ll inevitably make when we finally give in. I want to be the one that takes her virginity, that pops her cherry, that fills up her tight, little womb.
“Last chance to text that guy and tell him the deal is off.”
“You won’t actually kidnap me.” She bites back a slow grin. “You’re grumpy, but you’re reasonable.”
I laugh under my breath, our lips nearly brushing as we speak. “Well, why don’t you try me, trouble. Let’s see how reasonable I am.”
She doesn’t answer, but something that looks like a dare flickers across her face, and I know full well now that I’m going to have to put my money where my mouth is.