Chapter 16
Ryker
B y the time I arrive to my block, the sky is grey, and it looks like it’s about to rain. The air has cooled significantly, and the thin sweatshirt I’m wearing isn’t really helping anymore now that I’m not running.
The sound of voices penetrates the air as I near the Elite mansion and finally see who the voices belong to and where they’re coming from.
Holland and Ellie are in the front yard of Ellie’s house, and from what I can hear, they’re not having a happy brother and sister conversation. It sounds like an argument.
I stay put, trying to hear what they’re saying.
“…I don’t care, Holland. I can do what I want,” Ellie says, raising her voice. Hollands eyes narrow and he takes a step closer to his sister.
“No, Ellie. You’re not coming if you’re going to bring that douchebag. He’s not stepping foot in my house.”
“It’s not your house! It’s the Elite’s house. And you can’t tell me who I can and can’t be with,” Ellie’s small fists clench at her side.
“Ty fucking Manning is not coming. And you won’t be either if he shows up. Got it?”
Ty Manning is an even bigger ass than I am. He’s also on the rugby team, and I’m pretty sure none of the guys like him.
Since Pat’s the captain, we’ve tried to convince him to go to coach, but Ty really hasn’t done anything except be an annoying prick, and that’s not enough to get him kicked off the team.
Ellie looks like she’s about to punch Holland straight in the face and honestly, I’d pay good money to see that happen. But instead, I make my way over to them in an attempt to distract them from wanting to rip each other’s heads off.
Ellie sees me first, her bright blue eyes narrowing at the sight of me. God, she looks exactly like Holland. They have the exact same facial features, from the color of their eyes and the shape of their noses to the way their eyebrows sit. Same hair color and everything.
The only real differences between them are the fact that Holland is at least five inches taller, and very obviously a man. Ellie is small, probably five foot at the most. Her blonde hair goes to her shoulders, and she’s almost concerningly thin.
I throw my arm over Holland’s shoulder attempting to break the tension.
“What’s going on, Monroe family?” I ask, a smirk playing on my lips. Ellie glares at me, and even though she’s small, she’s kind of scary. Not as scary as a certain brunette with big blue eyes and a strong dislike for me though.
“None of your damn business, Steele,” Ellie grimaces.
I hold my arms up in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. Holland, tell your sister to calm down.” Ellie’s eyes narrow and now she looks like she wants to punch m e in the face.
“You’re both assholes. Don’t be surprised if you find itching powder in your jock straps.”
I attempt to tamp down the chuckle that’s threatening to burst out of me, but the amusement dissipates when I see Gwen standing on the porch of the house, her dark hair up in a bun on the top of her head and a confused expression on her face.
She looks from Ellie to Holland, and then lands on me. My blood runs cold at the cold look in her eyes as she takes the few steps down to the yard.
“What’s going on out here?” she asks, concern laced in her tone. “I heard yelling.”
She looks between all of us once more, this time settling on Ellie, waiting for her explanation.
Ellie shakes her head. “Nothing. Everything’s fine, except for the fact that my brother thinks he can tell me who I can and can’t date. Despite us being the same exact age,” she rolls her eyes before giving Holland a death glare.
Holland looks like he could scream right about now.
“Woah, you never said anything about dating. You only said you wanted to bring him to the party,” he growls. Here we go again.
Ellie takes a step closer to Holland, but he stands his ground. I look to Gwen who stands silently, watching the situation unfold with unease.
“I gotta agree with Holland here, El. Ty Manning isn’t the kind of guy you want,” Ellie stares at me, unblinking.
“And how would you know what she wants?” Gwen asks pointedly, her hands flying to her hips.
Why must she always argue with me? Even when I’m trying to help her friend stay out of a toxic relationship, Gwen acts as if I’m the fucking devil.
I wonder if she’s like this with everyone. But I’ve seen her with her friend in class, and she looks like she doesn’t have a care in the world.
“Ty Manning is not a good guy. He’s a prick, and I assume Ellie doesn’t want that in a relationship,” I shrug. If I had a sister, I wouldn’t let her get within ten feet of Manning. I don’t blame Holland for putting his foot down.
Gwen laughs, but there’s no amusement in it.
“So, he’s you.”
“Ouch, Rebel. That one hurt,” I taunt, setting my hand over my chest as if I’m in pain.
“Why do you call me that?” she demands. Because you’re unlike any woman I’ve ever met. Because you challenge me when no one else would even think to. Because you don’t back down or cower.
“That’s for me to know, and you to… well, not.”
“You know, the only time you’re not as dumb as you look is when I close my eyes,” she quips. I stifle a laugh at her comment.
Gwen’s eyes narrow, her fists clenching on her hips as if she’s holding back a punch. Not that a punch from her tiny fists would affect me much. She can’t be more than one hundred forty pounds, and her head barely reaches my chest.
I wouldn’t say I’m huge, but I’m bigger than a lot of the guys on the rugby team. I work out often to stay in shape and stay at the top of my game.
Gwen grabs Ellie’s wrist, walking her back toward the house as she glares at me. Ellie lets Gwen pull her away, leaving Holland and I standing alone on the edge of their yard.
Ellie disappears inside the small house while Gwen stands on the porch staring at us. “Get off our lawn. You’re going to leave fire marks from your pitchforks,” and then she’s gone, slamming the front door shut. My dick is so hard, I have to discreetly move it so it doesn’t stick straight out in my gym shorts.
If Ellie is talking about coming to the Halloween party Friday, I wonder if a sassy brunette will be there with her?
When I get home and into my room, I immediately head for the ensuite bathroom, turning on the shower. Leaning against the counter, I stare back at myself in the mirror. God, what is wrong with me?
Stepping out of my shorts and sweatshirt, I hop in the shower and let hot water and steam take over my senses. My muscles immediately relax, but my mind races with thoughts of Gwen. Imagining her naked and writhing under me, tasting every inch of her, watching her face as she comes all over my fingers.
Fuck.
I grab my hard cock in my hands and begin to stroke slowly. I let out a soft hiss of breath as my hand begins to move faster. Flashes of Gwen’s lush lips, her perky tits, her round ass, and the scowl I see so often run through my mind .
My hand moves faster and faster until my balls tighten, and a familiar tingle runs at the bottom of my spine. I come so hard I have to hold myself up with my hand pressed against the shower wall.
By the time I finish my shower, I’m spent. I haven’t come that hard in months. What is happening to me? I don’t get hung up on women. They get hung up on me.
But knowing Gwen hates me, knowing she would never let herself admit to having any attraction to me, knowing she’s fighting it only makes me want her more.
Christ, this woman is something else, and I don’t know how long I can hold off.