15. MARCY
MARCY
The clubhouse is finally winding down. Most of the kids have gone home, the women who cornered me earlier are nowhere in sight, and the guys are drifting off into their usual groups.
But there’s one problem.
“Have you seen my friend?” I ask Tito as he carries an empty tray past me. “The girl I came with?”
Tito shrugs, glancing around. “Think I saw her leave earlier… maybe an hour ago? Didn’t say nothin’.”
Ryder appears at my side, hands shoved deep in his pockets. “Can’t find your friend?”
I sigh, shaking my head. “No. And her phone’s dead, obviously.”
“She probably caught a ride with one of the girls. I saw her flirting earlier.”
That sounds like Bianca.
“You want me to drop you back?” Ryder offers, his voice low. “To her place?”
I hesitate, then nod. “Yeah. Thanks.”
The ride is quiet. Ryder doesn’t fill the space with small talk, and I’m too busy trying to figure out where the hell Bianca disappeared to. The headlights cut through the dark, nearly empty city streets as we pull up outside her apartment building.
I get off the bike, offering him a small, grateful smile. “Thanks for the ride.”
Ryder leans back, eyes on me—dark, unreadable. “No goodnight kiss for me?” he says, his tone light, but there’s something else in his eyes. Something hungry.
I pause. He’s joking… but he’s not.
And for reasons I don’t even want to think about, I lean in and kiss him. Soft at first, meant to be quick, but his hand comes up, fingers wrapping gently around the back of my neck. His lips linger—warm, rough, and way too careful for a man like him.
When I pull back, I don’t think. “Come upstairs,” I hear myself say.
His eyes narrow, searching mine like he’s not sure if I mean it.
“I don’t want to be alone,” I add, and it’s the truth.
Ryder doesn’t speak. He just kills the engine and gets off the bike.
The apartment is dark when I push the door open, Ryder close behind me.
“Bianca?” I call out, flicking on the light.
Silence.
I glance around—no shoes kicked off at the door, no wine bottle open on the counter, no sign she’s here.
Ryder leans against the wall, watching me with that unreadable expression. “She’s not here.”
“Yeah, I can see that,” I mutter, pulling my phone out. The screen lights up—finally—one unread text.
B: Sorry, babe, ran into someone. I’ll be late. You good?
I blow out a breath, shoulders sagging. “She’s fine. Just ditched me.”
When I turn, Ryder’s still there—and closer now. Close enough that I can feel his body heat, his eyes fixed on me like he’s already undressing me with his gaze.
“Guess that means it’s just us,” he says, voice low, rough.
Before I can say a word, his hands are on me—gripping my waist, backing me toward the couch until the backs of my knees hit the cushions. I fall back, breath caught in my throat, and he follows—slow, controlled—until he’s hovering over me.
And then his mouth is on mine.
The kiss is nothing like the one earlier. This isn’t soft, or careful, or teasing. It’s hungry, all tongue and teeth and heat. Ryder kisses me like he’s starving, like he’s been waiting all damn night to get his hands on me.
I gasp, and he takes advantage, deepening the kiss, his tongue sliding against mine as his hands roam down my sides, over my hips, gripping tight like he can’t get enough.
I fist my hands in his shirt, dragging him closer until his weight settles over me, pinning me to the couch. I arch up into him, and he growls low in his throat, grinding against me, letting me feel exactly how hard he is.
“Fuck,” he mutters against my lips. “I’ve wanted this… you have no idea.”
I shiver, pulling him back down, kissing him harder. Because the truth is, I want this, too. I want him.
Ryder pulls back just enough to yank his shirt over his head, his chest broad and solid, muscles flexing as he tosses it aside. His eyes stay locked on me, dark and wild.
“There’s something we didn’t finish last time…” he murmurs, voice low, rough with need. His lips brush my ear, making me shiver. “I didn’t get to feel that pretty mouth of yours around my cock.”
My breath catches because I know exactly what he means. That night at the bar. How close we’d gotten, how bad we both wanted it before we got interrupted.
I pull back just enough to look at him, a slow smile curving my lips. “Yeah… I remember.”
His hands slide down my back, resting heavy on my hips. “Been thinkin’ about it ever since, Marcy. About how you’d look—right here. On your knees.”
I swallow hard and sink down between his legs without another word, hands already working his belt loose, the metal clinking in the quiet room. I know exactly what’s waiting for me. I’ve seen him before—thick, long, almost too much—and the anticipation only makes my thighs press together.
When I finally free him, Ryder groans low, his cock hard, heavy in my hand. “Fuck, baby,” he grunts. “look at you.”
“I still can’t believe how huge you are,” I say.
He chuckles low. “Think you can handle it, sweetheart?”
I shoot him a look, licking my lips slowly. “Guess we’re about to find out.”
I wrap my hand around him, feeling the weight of him, the heat. I stroke him slow, teasing, watching his jaw clench. Then I lean in, my tongue flicking out, tasting the bead of pre-cum gathered at the tip.
“Fuck,” Ryder groans, head dropping back.
That’s all the encouragement I need.
I open wide and take him in, sliding my mouth down over him, tongue working around the head before sinking lower.
Ryder’s breathing turns ragged, his hands fisting the couch cushions as I work him, sucking slow and sloppy, spit trailing down my chin as I bob my head.
“Goddamn, Marcy,” he groans, hips jerking up involuntarily. “Look at you… fucking taking me like that. Do you like my cock inside you?”
I moan around him, the vibration pulling another curse from his lips. I stroke what I can’t fit with one hand, twisting my wrist just right, my other hand gripping his thigh.
He’s panting now, barely holding on, his voice breaking. “Shit… Marcy… if you keep goin’ like that…”
I hum around him, refusing to stop, loving how wrecked he sounds.
“Shit… baby—stop,” he groans, pulling me off him right before he loses control. “Come here… I want you.”
I barely catch my breath before he’s grabbing me, stripping off my clothes, then pulling me up until I’m straddling his lap. His hands are rough but careful as he cups my face and kisses me deep, slow, tasting himself on my tongue.
“You’re fucking perfect,” he growls against my lips, his hands sliding down my back, gripping my ass as he shifts beneath me.
I groan as I feel his throbbing cock against my thighs. “It’s going to hurt, isn’t it?”
“Not like this,” he says. “This way, you’ll be able to take me better, and it won’t hurt. I promise I won’t let you hurt.”
Without another word, he lines himself up and pulls me down onto his cock. I gasp as he enters me, the stretch stealing the air from my lungs. He fills me so deep, so completely, it borders on overwhelming.
“Fuck… Marcy.” Ryder groans, head falling back against the couch. “You feel so fucking good. Look at you.”
I start to move, rolling my hips slow, feeling him drag against every inch of me. His hands slide up, cupping my breasts, thumbs brushing over my nipples until I’m panting, rocking faster.
“You’re gonna kill me,” he mutters before leaning forward to catch one of my nipples in his mouth.
He sucks hard, groaning as my back arches, pressing more of me against his face. My tits bounce with every movement, every grind of my hips, and Ryder’s hands and mouth are everywhere—grabbing, licking, biting like he can’t get enough.
“Fuck… you’re so beautiful like this,” he growls, pulling back just enough to watch me ride him, his hands sliding back to my waist as he thrusts up hard, meeting me stroke for stroke.
The sound of skin slapping fills the room, filthy and raw, but neither of us cares. My moans grow louder, his growls rougher.
Every thrust drives him deeper, his cock hitting that perfect spot over and over until I’m gasping, moaning his name like I don’t care who hears.
“Fuck, Marcy,” he growls, his mouth finding my breasts again, sucking one nipple deep, his tongue flicking and teasing until my whole body shudders. “I could watch you like this all night.”
My thighs burn, but I don’t stop. I roll my hips faster, chasing that high.
I’m already so close, my body straining toward that edge. “Harder,” I beg, breathless. “Please?—”
Ryder growls, gripping my thighs and angling deeper. “Fuck me… Marcy… I’m coming, I’m coming.”
And just like that, we fall apart together. He comes inside me in spurts, letting out a yell so loud, I’m surprised we didn’t bring down the entire apartment.
The room is quiet now. I only hear the sound of our breathing as Ryder gently gets me off his lap.
I blink up at the ceiling, my body still trembling, my chest rising and falling fast. Every inch of me feels wrecked. Used, owned, but safe.
I was with Hawk just a few hours ago, and now Ryder. What’s going on with me?
Ryder brushes his lips against my collarbone, soft, almost like he’s apologizing for how hard he just took me. His hand moves up slowly, fingertips trailing down my arm, soothing over the red marks he left on my skin.
“You okay?” he murmurs, voice hoarse and low against my throat.
I nod, swallowing hard. “Yeah… I’m good.”
Better than good.
He lifts his head, eyes locking with mine, and there’s no cocky smirk now. Just something softer, something that makes my chest ache.
“Too much?” he asks, his thumb brushing my cheek.
I shake my head quickly. “No. It was perfect.” My voice cracks, and for a second, I feel too raw, too open.
His hands find the throw blanket draped over the couch, and he covers us both, tucking me tight against his chest like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
We sit there for a while. There are no words, just the rise and fall of his chest beneath my cheek.
His hand keeps moving—stroking my hair, my back. Soothing me, even though I’m not sure I need it. But it feels good. Needed.
“You’re shaking,” he mutters.
“I’m fine,” I whisper, closing my eyes as I let the moment wrap around me.
“Yeah,” he exhales, his lips pressing to the top of my head. “Me too.”