Chapter 16
Ishika
Ryan carries me indoors and shows me around his house.
It’s a two-bedroom brick house, small but warm and cozy.
The ground floor consists of a small kitchen, living room, a guest room with a toilet, and a laundry room.
The entire floor upstairs is Ryan’s bedroom with an attached en-suite.
The floor-to-ceiling glass windows open to the views of his backyard.
His room is minimalistic. He has a bookshelf and a dresser in one corner of the room, a large bed pushed to the wall facing the window, and a side table next to the bed.
He looks like a clean freak. Everything is neat and organized. Even his shoes are in the right place.
He would be horrified if he ever peeked into my room.
I am a clothes and shoe hoarder, but I don’t organize anything.
Thank God it was dark when he came in. We are so different in every way.
And yet, when I am with him, it feels right.
I want this unspoken thing between us to make sense. I want it to be more than just sex.
My head is still reeling from the fact that Ryan Harper saw my pussy. I am blushing just thinking about how he made me come. But when I asked him point-blank if he liked me, when I said I wanted only him, he changed the subject.
How do I tell him there is no Brent in the picture anymore?
Is it too soon to tell him I am falling for him? I might scare him off. I should talk to Sadie first.
I’ll creep up to his heart and make my home there. I’ll show this gorgeous man that we belong together.
Absentmindedly, I walk down the stairs from his room.
I am wearing his white sweatshirt and nothing else.
He picked these clothes out for me. My wet clothes are in the washing machine.
I left my house so fast that I forgot to bring my own clothes, but then again, I wasn’t really thinking of clothes when he took my hand and led me to his bike.
The oven pings, bringing me to the present. I follow the smell of freshly baked goods to reach a more familiar corner of the house. Ryan is in his element, he is so big, practically taking up the entire space in this tiny kitchen.
His back is toward me and gray gym shorts hang low from his hips.
He has so many tattoos on various parts of his body.
But I think my favorite is the eagle tattoo that spans from his right shoulder blade covering half of his back.
The bird’s wings spread wide, its eyes sharp, and the beak tilts upwards into Ryan’s neck as if the bird is whispering a secret into his ear.
The detailing on the wings is amazing and majestic.
My eyes fall on his bicep to a tattoo in memory of his father.
It’s a watch, a knife, and an anchor tethered through a chain, with the word DAD written on a red ribbon.
He was close to his dad. The numerous times I saw him helping Mr. Harper at the country club, it was clear he adored his father.
I can’t imagine the pain he must have experienced when he received the news of his father’s passing.
It’s been years since the incident but suddenly now, I feel a protective urge to pull him into my arms and hug him tight.
His broad shoulders hunch forward and the muscles of his back flex as he moves something from the stove top, his waist is slim, and his legs are muscular, thick quadriceps bulging and defined while a thick layer of dark hair covers his calves.
Hot damn! My combusting ovaries. This man is just so fine.
He looks over his shoulder, sensing my presence. “There she is.” He grins.
“Sit,” he orders, pulling a chair out for me.
I obey, wanting to please him. He sets a plate of strawberries and marshmallows in front of me, and there’s a bowl of melted chocolate. There is also a grilled cheese sandwich.
“What’s this for?”
“We are making friends.”
“Friends?” Well, I was hoping he would say friends with benefits at least. But I will take it. It’s a work in process.
“Open.” He forks a strawberry, dipping it in chocolate, and brings it to my lips. I open my mouth and accept.
“Thanks.” I bring my hand to cover my mouth as I chew the overly large strawberry. “You’re feeding me chocolate at midnight. What are your intentions, Sir? Are you trying to seduce me or something?”
He bites his thick lower lip, giving me a lopsided grin. My pussy clenches as his dimple pops.
“That’s my favorite sweatshirt you’re wearing. I want that back. Make sure you twerk while you take it off.”
I gasp. He chuckles.
When I am about to talk, he shoves a marshmallow in my mouth. His eyes drop to my lips briefly. “You made me dessert the other day. Do you remember why?”
I remember. I was apologizing.
“This is my dessert for you. For all the times I acted cold and callous. I’m going to do better, Ishika.”
I melt in a warm gooey puddle. Aww! He’s saying sorry.
“I don’t want you to remember that version of me. One who makes you cry. The man who makes you doubt yourself. I want to be worthy of you, Ishika.”
His honesty has me at a loss for words so I stand up, move over to him, and climb onto his lap.
We feed each other, gazing into each other’s eyes.
We finish the entire sandwich and all the marshmallows and strawberries.
I lick the bowl and when the chocolate smudges on my lips and chin, he licks it off me making me giggle.
I like this side of him. This side of him is definitely worthy of me.
He loads the dishwasher and turns to me, leaning his back on the island. He is a few feet away from me. His eyes travel from my toes to the roots of my hair.
“We can move to the couch and watch a movie together,” he says, scratching the back of his neck.
“Hmmm.” I engage him further, “That sounds nice.”
“Or,” he says, inhaling sharply and then exhaling.
“Hmm!” I tap my chin. “Or?” I say standing up.
He waggles his eyebrows suggestively. I giggle and skip on my toes reaching him. Then, I am wrapped up in Ryan Harper, his forehead resting on mine, and his salacious dimple seducing me.
“Or we can stop wasting time and you can bang my brains out for the rest of the night,” he says.
I groan and he chuckles.
“Just when I think you’re improving, that mouth of yours churns out filth.”
“I didn’t see your sweet cunt complaining about my mouth’s performance a few minutes ago.”
“Oh my God! That’s not—” I am flustered all of a sudden. I have never met a dirty talker like him. He is so crass and yet he makes me hot and bothered. I have so little experience when it comes to sex that I am worried I might not be good enough to keep up with him.
Ryan moves closer, his hands frame my face and he surprises me with a deep longing kiss.
A kiss that invigorates, rips, and shreds all self-imposed inhibitions.
With his kiss, he conveys to me his desperation to have me.
At first, his kiss feels like liquid warm honey being poured from his lips into mine.
It’s sticky, rich, and smooth as it stealthily spreads over every inch of my body.
And just when my toes curl in arousing heat, it picks up pace and exuberance.
It consumes and devours my insides, the temperature rising, hotter and hotter, running and roaring into my veins.
Till all I want to do is rip his clothes off and fuck him on this kitchen floor.
Maybe he hears my thoughts because thank God, he decides to carry me up to his bedroom while I pepper his neck and jaw with tiny kisses.
He drops me on his bed, his bedroom is brightly lit up with two ceiling lights and one bedside lamp. There’s no place to hide.
“Take that thing off,” he orders, looking at his sweatshirt.
“Lights off.”
“No,” he growls. “I want to see you. Every inch of you.”
“Please, Ryan. I need the dark to be bold with you.”
“We’ve seen each other in darkness many times now.
And every time, I have felt like a thief stealing something that wasn’t mine to take.
Tonight Ishika, I’m still a thief, but I wish to steal you under the bright lights, with your eyes wide open.
The light stays on even after your clothes come off, that’s final. ”
Well, if you put it like that…
I am not ashamed of my body. That is not why I asked for the lights to be off. It’s because I am very inexperienced when it comes to acts of intimacy. The darkness gives me courage to be experimental.
My parents taught me to be proud of my heritage and accept that my body will stand out in an otherwise white country.
I have learned to love my body. I educated myself to appreciate what I have.
It was hard sometimes when every cool person I admired growing up was nothing like me.
But I got there eventually and I love who I am.
My skin tone is warmer, light brown. I am curvy.
I have decent-sized breasts but my ass is bigger.
I have bushy eyebrows that need waxing every month or they turn into a monobrow.
My forearms are weirdly thin and don’t even get me started on my undereye, dark circle problem.
I get raccoon eyes if I miss my beauty sleep for even for one day.
Thank God, I have a good concealer. I also have a dazzling smile and I love my black hair.
I have a killer body because I work out five days a week.
I have pouty lips that never hesitate to speak my mind.
And the way Ryan is looking at me right now makes me certain that he finds me desirable.
Sitting on my knees, I lift the sweatshirt over my head and reveal myself.
He sucks in his breath. His chest shudders visibly.
“You like?” I ask, and then immediately regret asking.
Why am I so nervous? It’s not like I am a virgin.
His body is so sculpted showing off his flat washboard stomach and the sexy V cut of his abdominal muscles. I want to kiss his six-pack.
He lets out a low happy laugh. “Not like, I love. Now show me your pussy. I want to see you blush.”