7. Ryan
CHAPTER SEVEN
RYAN
The air in the private back room of the steakhouse is thick with the smell of charred ribeye and expensive bourbon.
It’s the setting for the Seattle Knights’ mid-season team dinner, an event that usually feels like a mandatory sentence in hell.
But tonight, the weight in my chest isn't dread. It’s anticipation, sharp and humming like a live wire.
I adjust my cuff links, the silver cold against my skin. Beside me, Rory is a vision in emerald silk that clings to her stunning curves.
I’ve spent every spare second with her these last couple of weeks.
If I’m not with her, we’re texting. Even at three a.m. when I should be passed out, I wake up to check my phone, and there’s another message from her that knocks the wind out of me.
Sometimes it’s just a sarcastic meme; sometimes it’s her telling me about the latest reality TV show she watched. Doesn’t matter. I hang on every word.
She’s got me completely hooked, and I fucking don’t care. Not one bit. This weekend is the real test, the Fox Family barbecue.
"You look like you’re facing the firing squad." Rory cuts into my inner turmoil, her voice a velvet friction against the low roar of the room. She brushes an invisible speck of lint from my lapel, her fingers lingering just long enough to make my pulse stutter.
"I hate these fucking shindigs," I grumble, looking down at her. Her eyes are impossibly blue under the chandelier light, bright and sharp and seeing right through me. “I’d rather be at home watching bad reality TV with you.”
"That stuff will rot your mind," she says, a small smirk playing on her lips. "Don’t worry, we’ll get through the night. Then we can head back to my place to watch all the reality TV."
Jaxson is the first to intercept us, clutching a glass of scotch and looking more tired than usual. Harper is tucked under his arm, her pregnant belly a prominent curve under her maternity dress. She looks radiant, but Jaxson looks like he’s hovering on the edge of a panic attack.
“Ryan, I’m glad you guys finally got here,” Harper says, her eyes doing a quick scan from my face to Rory’s, then back again. She rolls her eyes and holds out her hand to Rory. “I’m Harper, Ryan’s sister. And this is my husband, Jaxson.”
Rory shakes my sister’s hand. “It’s so nice to finally meet you.”
While the two women chatter like they’ve been friends forever, Jaxson mutters to me, “She’s really nice. Don’t fuck this up.”
“I don’t plan on it.”
Jaxson gives me a look that would make a lesser man cower, but it doesn’t faze me. Our rivalry goes way back. Before he fell for my sister, we were out for each other’s throats on and off the ice. I stare back at the fucker without backing down.
Now that we’re family. It isn’t always easy to play nice, but I’m giving it my best.
Harper notices our silent pissing contest and rolls her eyes. “Boys, please. Put the big dick energy away.”
Jaxson leans close to Harper and whispers loud enough for us to hear, “But you like all my big dick.”
I make my usual gagging noise as Rory laughs. “It’s time for me to introduce Rory around.” I place my hand on her lower back, and electricity flows down my spine. My cock grows hard, and I button my suit jacket to hide the evidence of what Rory does to me.
We move through the crowd, and I watch Rory work the room like she was born for it.
She doesn't have the practiced, brittle smile of some of the other wives who are trying too hard to maintain a brand. She’s effortless.
She asks Miller about his new dog and listens to the backup goalie’s wife talk about her architecture firm with genuine interest. She doesn't just take up space; she creates it.
I find myself standing back a bit, just watching her. Fuck. I’m so far gone over her, it isn’t even funny.
The rest of the dinner is a blur of expensive steak and polite conversation, but I’m barely present.
My entire world has narrowed down to the warmth of Rory’s body next to mine and the way her thumb occasionally grazes the back of my hand under the table.
By the time we say our goodbyes and head to the valet, the cool Seattle air feels like a shock to the system.
The drive back to her apartment is quiet.
The city lights smear across the windshield in long, neon streaks of rain and electricity.
I keep one hand on the wheel and the other on the center console, inches away from hers.
The tension in the car is thick, a physical weight that makes it hard to breathe.
"Come back to my place," I blurt out before I can stop myself. "I don't want to say goodnight yet."
She hesitates, her tongue darting out to lick her lower lip. It’s a small movement, but it hits me like a body check. She looks at the door of her building, then back at me. "Your place?"
"I’m dying for you." I lay it all on the line. "And I can’t wait another minute to make you mine."
Rory takes a slow, shaky breath, and I’m preparing myself for her rejection when she shocks the fuck out of me. "Okay. Let’s go."
I put the car in gear and drive like a man possessed.
My apartment is a glass-walled box overlooking the Sound, modern and cold and usually devoid of anything that feels like a home.
But when I open the door and let Rory in, the space changes.
The moonlight reflecting off the water spills across the hardwood floors, turning the room into something inviting.
She walks to the window, her silhouette framed by the lights of the harbor. "This is incredible."
I don't look at the view. I look at her.
I shed my jacket, tossing it onto the sofa, and walk toward her.
My heart is hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs, the kind of adrenaline I usually save for the final two minutes of a tied game.
When I reach her, I don't stop until I’m standing directly behind her, close enough to feel the heat coming off her silk dress.
"Rory," I whisper.
She turns around, and the air between us vanishes. Her eyes are wide, dark with an anticipation that mirrors my own. I reach out, my fingers trembling slightly as I tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. My hand lingers on her neck, my thumb tracing the line of her jaw.
"I’ve wanted this since the first day we met," she says, her voice barely a breath.
"Me too," I say, leaning down. "I’m dying for you."
Our lips collide, and she moans into my mouth, her hands flying up to fist in my hair, pulling me closer as if she’s trying to merge our bodies into one.
I back her up against the floor-to-ceiling glass, my hands roaming over her curves.
The silk of her dress is slick under my palms, but the skin beneath is burning.
I break the kiss to trail my mouth down her throat, savoring the low, desperate whimper that erupts from her lips. The sound makes my head spin.
"Are you sure?" I groan against her skin.
“Positive.” She grabs the front of my shirt and pulls me toward the hall.
“Now, shut up and kiss me.” We don't make it to the bed before the clothes start coming off.
My shirt is discarded somewhere near the door, buttons rattling against the floor.
Her dress follows, pooling around her feet in a heap of emerald silk.
Standing there in her lace underwear, she is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
Her body is all soft skin and dangerous curves, a landscape I want to spend the rest of my life exploring.
I strip out of my slacks, my cock already hard and straining against my boxers, aching for the feel of her.
I lift her up into my arms, and her legs wrap around my waist. I carry her the rest of the way to the bed and lay her down.
The slits of moonlight catch the sheen of sweat on her skin.
I crawl over her, pinning her wrists above her head with one hand while the other wanders down to the lace covering her heat.
"You’re so wet for me, Rory," I growl, my fingers dancing over the damp fabric.
"Please," she whimpers, arching her back as my thumb finds her clit through the lace. She shudders and grabs a fistful of the sheets. “Ryan.” My name is barely a whisper. Fuck, I love the sound of it on her lips. I don’t hold back. I grab both sides of her panties and rip them off in one move. The lace shreds in my hands. Her breath catches, and I can feel her heart hammering under my mouth. “Those were my best pair of panties,” she grumbles as I trail kisses down the line of her stomach, tasting her skin, nipping at her belly button until she’s writhing under me.
“I’ll buy you another pair.” Hell, I’ll buy her all the sexy little panties she wants. “God, you’re gorgeous,” I growl, dropping to my knees at the edge of the bed. I lift her hips and spread her legs wide, exposing that perfect pussy I’ve been dreaming about for weeks.
Her scent hits me hard. I lose all sense of control. I run my tongue along her inner thigh, loving the way her muscles jump under my hands. I spread her pussy lips with my thumbs and stare for a second, just soaking in the view. She’s already dripping for me, wet and swollen with need.
I dive in, dragging my tongue up the length of her slit. Her moans echo off of my bedroom walls. I lap at her, slow at first, then rough, and she falls apart for me. I fucking love how responsive she is. Every lick, every stroke, she gasps and arches, begging for more.
“Ryan, oh my God, don’t stop,” she begs, her fingers tangling in my hair.
Never. I could eat her for hours. Rory cries out, her thighs clamping around my head like she’s trying to drown me in all this sweetness.
Fuck, I’d let her. I slide two fingers into her tight pussy and curl them just right, working her as I lap at her clit.
Her back comes off the bed, that wild hair fanning out over the pillow.
She makes desperate little gasps, like she can’t get enough air.
“Ryan, oh my God, I can’t—I’m gonna—” She breaks off with a scream, her pussy spasming around my fingers.
The taste of her is better than any goddamn thing on earth.
I keep sucking, keep teasing every drop of pleasure from her body until she’s begging me to stop.
I pull back and stare at the mess I’ve made of her, the way she’s shaking, flushed and breathless and so fucking gorgeous I have to grit my teeth.
My cock is throbbing so hard it’s almost painful.
I line up and rub the thick head against her dripping entrance. “You’re mine.”
“Yours.” She wraps her arms around my shoulders and drags me down until our mouths collide again.
I push in slowly, an inch at a time, watching her face as I stretch her. She’s tight, so fucking tight, her pussy clenching around me as I slide deeper. A low, guttural moan escapes her as I bottom out, my balls pressing against her as I fill her completely.
"God, you feel incredible," I hiss, resting my forehead against hers.
She wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me down for a bruising kiss. "Don't stop. Ryan, move."
I start to pull back, almost all the way out, before slamming back in. The sound of our bodies meeting is a wet, heavy slap that echoes in the quiet room. I find a rhythm, deep and relentless, pounding into her until the world narrows down to the sensation of being inside her.
Every thrust makes her cry out, her nails raking down my back as she meets every movement with a desperate shove of her hips.
I reach down between us, my thumb finding her clit and grinding against it as I fuck her.
The combination is too much; her eyes roll back, and her breath hitches into a series of short, sharp pants.
"Come for me, Rory," I growl, picking up the pace. "Give it all to me."
She screams my name as she shatters, her entire body trembling as the orgasm takes her. The feeling of her clenching around me is the final straw. I bury my face in her neck, a loud groan ripping from my throat as I explode inside her, hot spurts of cum filling her as I pump into her one last time.
We collapse together, our skin slick and sticky, our breath coming in ragged bursts. The silence of the apartment returns, but it’s different now. It’s not empty. It’s full of the scent of us—sex and sweat and something that feels dangerously like a beginning.
I roll onto my side, pulling her to my chest, her back tucked against my front. I kiss the top of her head, my hand resting on her stomach. The moon is still high over the Sound, but the world feels like it’s shifted on its axis.