Yield

25. Max

“I don’t know how you do it.” Ryke runs his hand up my back beneath my oversized Good Charlotte tee. It’s probably not mine. Well, not originally. I stole a handful of Cole’s over the years. He always had the cooler designs, like the red bubble letters and cartoon band members that brightly colored this black top.

He doesn’t need to know. I’d never tell one man outright that I’m sleeping next to him in another’s shirt. Lying here in my cesspool of thoughts is the only reason I’ve recalled the details of what I pull on after my shower. Knowing Ryke, he would go out and buy me a bunch of men’s tees to replace them. His priorities are different than mine. I’ve yet to see this money-savvy side of him because he’s always showering me with gifts. Some are as simple as groceries, which I appreciate more than anything else.

Why am I worried about it? Um, because I’m always worried about money. It’s this stupid revolving wheel of which bill are we going to stress over today. This single-mom shit is for the birds. Shut up, brain. Shuuut up.

“Mhm,” I hum with my face buried in between two pillows, flat on my stomach on the hotel’s king bed. His fingers deepen, massaging the muscles in my upper back.

“Wanna talk about it?”

Yeah…no.

“It’s all I do anymore. I vent to you so much, I don’t think the carefree girl you opened your house to in April has made an appearance since.”

“I see her often in small doses…It’s okay. You warned me and I didn’t realize…like I thought the honeymoon phase would have lasted longer.” What he means is, he’s butthurt I yelled at him. He’s valid. Our casually together agreement has thickened in plot. The this is real life and it fucking sucks plot.

“Oh, the lust phase? Trust me, I very much lust for you.” I trace his lower abdomen with my fingertips.

“Oh-ho-ho, madam. Allow me to continue to light your flame.”

“When did I start dating Lumiere?” His face wrinkles, having no clue what I’m talking about. “The suave candle from Beauty The Beast.”

“He has a name?” Ryke reaches over to the bedside table, flicking the switch to turn the lamp off.

“Well,the he is a human cursed into a castle accessory thanks to the rude prince. We need to get you caught up on the classics if you’re going to keep hanging out with us.” Tilting toward him, I press my tongue to the tip of his nose. “You are…going to keep hanging out with us, right?”

“I have a lot to think about, but I’m here now.”

I bury my face back between two pillows. I was hesitant, and he was all in. Now he’s hesitant and I’m scared I’m going to be left alone. Why didn’t he listen to me from the beginning?

“What could you do for yourself? Something completely and utterly deserved selfishness.” He casually changes the topic.

“Like a hobby?”

“Yeah or whatever you’d enjoy it. I know you don’t do spa days.”

“I don’t do much lately, besides you.”

“Not that I’m ungrateful.” He rolls to his side, tucking an arm under his head. “But you need to.”

“I used to go off-roading, hiking…hanging out with my girlfriends, usually with the kids. It was rare that I’d get to do anything on my own since Riley was born, besides date nights.” I drape my thigh over his and run my fingers over muscles on the side of his neck.

His gentle touch falls to my wrist, stroking lines up and down my arm. “You have more freedom than you realize, Max. Riley is with her dad half of the week.”

Yes, that’s why I left my husband—to get a break from parenthood.

I slowly exhale.

He’s right, as usual.

“Except more me time comes at a cost. I see Ri less. I can’t get time back with her. I feel guilty about it. And I’m always worried about work. I don’t have someone or something to fall back on if my business goes belly up.” I’ve let Ryke do so much for me, taking some of the daily burdens off my hands and if I’m being honest, I never felt okay with relying on Cole’s income either. As if his physically laborious job was superior to the mental exercise I do on the daily. Maybe it was a weird survival instinct that pushed me to get a job at fifteen. Spending what I earned on my own always felt better. I lean onto my forearms, attempting to look through the open doorway. “Is she—”

“Sleeping beauty. Don’t worry.” Falling to the bed, I roll to be side and Ryke spoons behind me. “At the restaurant tonight…you made a point to announce that I’m not Riley’s father.”

“Well, you’re not.” I stare at the wall, trying to think of anything to say that isn’t going to come out snippy.

“I know that, but you didn’t have to say it. It’s nobody’s business.”

“You are so hard to figure out, Ryke Onak. I love when you’re silly and fun. Then, you’re this sexual deviant, and then you get mad because I don’t want you to play step-daddy. Will I ever solve the mystery?”

“There’s a lot to me you don’t know, peach.”

“What’s holding your tongue? Are you finally going to tell me about this jailbird thing?”

“I want to be what you want. If that’s the guy who always cheers you up when you’re down or the guy who delivers all your fantasies…or if it’s a good role model around your child. I know I pushed you into this relationship before you were ready and for that I’m greedy, but I really, really, really—” His fingers dig into my ribs, tickling me. “I like you. I want to keep you.”

“Well…I really like you too.” I kiss his nose. “Does that mean you’re still my boyfriend?”

“Yes, peach.” His mouth dips closer. “Would it really be okay if I kiss you right here?“ He blows warm air across my neck, prickling my skin with bumps.

“You have my full permission,” I hum.

His lips brush the shell of my ear. “I wish I could pull these shorts down.” His thumb tugs at the waistband. The warmth of his skin caresses my hips.

“Why can’t you?” I murmur.

“There is a small child sleeping on the pull-out in the other room.”

“She’s asleep,” I whisper against his jaw.

“We’ll wake her.”

“Let me show you how it’s done.” I roll over, pinning his strapping body below mine.

“You’re going to teach me?”

“Shh,” I hush him. “The first rule of sex club is—”

“We don’t talk about sex club.”

“Exactly.” I press my lips to his neck. “We don’t make those noises you love to hear.” I glance up, crawling backward. “Those long moans…no.” Shaking my head, I tug at the top of his charcoal cotton shorts. “Screaming your name,” I whisper. “Never.”

“You’re teasing me.”

“I’m not. I have bad intentions I’d like to see through.”

“Mhm,” He hums. “What’s the second rule?”

Curling my finger around the band of his shorts close to his ass, I smirk. “Have an exit strategy.” I abruptly pull his shorts from his ass with his boxer briefs down to his athletic thighs. “In this case, blankets can easily disguise.” Pulling the blanket over my head, my flat palms travel over the dark strands on his thighs. It’s too dark in the room, and under here, to see. Feeling my way up his body is better than a visual. Being quiet is hotter than he thinks and I’m going to prove it.

I smooth the palm of my hand over his balls, cupping one at a time. His fingers tangle in my hair, tugging with the lightest pressure. Tracing my tongue across the soft, groomed skin, his grip tightens. He moans as I take him in my mouth.

I pull away, slapping a hand over his mouth.

“Shh.” I warn him. His threaded fingers give me hair a short tug.

My hand tightens around his cock, gently squeezing the base as I lick a flat line across the tip.

“Baby—”

“Ah ah ah.” I tsk. It’s funny watching him struggle to keep his mouth shut. “Rule.” I lick his length and slide down him till I bottom out, ducking away to spit out another word. “Number.” I dive back in and gag, repeating the move. “One.”

“You think this is hilarious?” He leans on his elbow, pulling back the blanket.

Without letting go of him, my lips slide off and I tilt my chin up. A slow, subtle smirk washes across my previously straight face. “A little.”

“I’ll tango.”

“What happened to I don’t dance,“ I mock.

“My tongue does.”

His hands clasp around my wrists, pulling them to his neck. Warm fingertips feather down my arms, down my ribs, snatching my waist. He lifts me higher till my lips hover above his.

“Even in the dark?” I whisper.

“Blindfolded and hands tied behind my back, my mouth is your servant.”

Chest to chest, his body rolls over me, pinning my arms above my head. My fixation on the light that glimmers in his eyes quickly falls to his lips. His hot breath heats my mouth. The anticipation is a heartbeat pulsing through my entire body. I can feel it in my toes, curling.

“I want your mouth,” I softly demand. He inches down to my chest, but I stop him, holding his chin. “No.” His face is full of dark curiosity. The shades are all I can make out from the small night light in the outlet, yet I can read every thought passing between us. “Up here, first.”

He doesn’t waste a second. His lips melt into mine, rigid and full of neediness.

Mm, god. He makes me so wet when he does that. Hungry and desperate. He’s about the long game and I’ve come accustomed to getting it in quickly and quietly. Our two worlds are crashing into one another finally and fully. It’s the perfect storm.

His lips soften with sweet pecks to my bottom lip.

“How good are you at following the rules?” He teases.

“Watch me,” I hum. His smile pulls at the corner of his mouth against my jaw.

He drifts down my body, kissing my navel while his hands slip under my wrinkling stolen t-shirt. He’s rougher than usual, digging his short nails into my chest with each squeeze. Rough hands take hips. Rough hand squeeze. Then they take my thighs, pulling my legs wider and higher.

Oh.

Oh. Oh.

That thing he’s doing with his, ohh.

Don’t you dare moan.

I can handle…fuck, god, ohh.

Stop.

Arched back. Neck extended. Eyes closed tight. Mouth hanging wide open.

It feels so good.

Lip biting. Gasping. Moaning.

No. No moaning.

Shit. No. Ohh, ah yes.

Hair pulling. Fucking deep hair pulling.

Just no moaning.

Nails to his neck.

But no moaning.

Thighs squeezing, tightening, locking.

No moaning.

No. Fucking. Moaning.

“Ohhh, mm.”

Shit.

“Mm, mmm, mmmm.”

Louder. Longer. Breathy.

No.

Yes.

Push him. Harder.

“Don’t stop,” I gasp.

I suck in more air, trying recklessly to shut up.

Yes. Right there. I’m close. So close.

I grind into him, tearing at my pillow with an overwhelming desire to dig my nails into something.

“Ohh, mm—” His hand decorates my neck, and his fingertips dredge below my jaw, setting me off under his touch. I’m unable to control myself. A ghostly being has taken over my body, jolting it through moans I forgot could exist.

I’m loud. Really loud. Too loud.

The door creeks and my eyes snap open as the little voice hit me. “Momma?”

Fuck! I can’t breathe. I’m crashing. Crashing, crashing, crashing. I can’t speak.

My hands slap to Ryke’s shoulders, holding him still beneath the blanket. I shit the bed with rule number one, but rule number two is still solid. I slowly exhale, desperate to catch my breath, and working up a reply.

“Momma?” Riley repeats.

“What’s wrong, sweet pea?”

“I woke up.” She stands in the dim doorway.

“I can see that. Why don’t you lie back down and try to get some more sleep. It’s not time to get up yet.”

Please say okay. Please say okay.

“Okay.”

Oh, thank goodness.

“I love you. Night night,” I say as she walks off.

I pull the blanket back. Ryke’s hands are on my stomach, folding over each other, while his chin rests on top of them. “What happened to rule number one?” He sneers.

“Where were you to remind me to lock the door tonight?” I didn’t shut it fully, let alone lock it because I’m too shaken to put that momentary barrier between us. Now that we got caught, I’m reevaluating it.

“If you would have followed your own rules, it wouldn’t have mattered.”

If only he could see the narrowed glare I’m giving him. “Get up here.”

He adjusts his jutting cock and takes his place as the big spoon.

“How often are these interruptions?” He asks, the weight of his arm falling over my waist.

“Probably a lot more than usual, being my apartment is still new to her. She sleeps better in the room she’s known her entire short life.”

“Is it frowned upon to roofie kids?”

A short laugh breaks from my throat. I wind back, then start quietly laughing again. “I’d torture and brutally murder a mother fucker who would.”

“Oh shit. Should I eat it from the back to make up for that awful joke?”

“Um no. I’m going to go to the bathroom and then we are going to sleep.”

“Not fair,” he pouts.

“I owe you.”

He squeezes my waist in his arms, refusing to let me get out of bed. “Promise?”

“Yeees. Now let go.“ He frees me and I stand, fixing my top. “I’ll be right back.”

Here we are again. The house. The flowers. The memories and heartbreak.

Is it heartbreak or heartache? The thought of what could have been is the most frustrating and eradicable. I hate it. I’m waiting for it to dissipate. I’m a dumbass for letting these feelings in over and over. Old habits, I guess. How many years did I spend with constantly alternating highs and lows? I’ll get past this, too.

“Daddy!” Riley yells, running across the driveway to Cole. He lifts her in the air and hugs her tight. Is that a new tattoo?

“I missed you, sweet pea.”

I’ll never, not be in awe when I see them together. No matter what happened between us, Cole is a good dad. He must’ve just got home. He’s still in his riding pants—red, black, and white practice gear—and a midnight tee. I’m surprised he didn’t change in the locker room before he left.

“Ahem.” Ryke clears his throat, and the guilt creeps up on me. “I’ll get her bag.”

I nod, thanking him before I walk over to Cole.

“What’s he doing here?” He voice is low, not hushed.

“Helping me.”

“I bet he’s helping you.” A glare in Ryke’s direction adds to his pissy tone.

“Cole, you knew he went to the beach with us.” I cross my arms over my chest, leaning into one hip.

“Yeah, the beach. Not my fucking house, Max.”

“I’ll tell him to stay in the truck then.”

“Too late.” Cole extends his hand as Ryke approaches. “Cole Warren.” They shake hands firmly. “And you are?”

“Ryke Onak. Max’s boyfriend.”

“That’s the thing. When you’re around my daughter, you are not her boyfriend. You are a friend. If you want to get trampled by Max, that’s your problem, but my girl won’t be part of the aftermath when you realize you fucked up the day you let her in your head.”

Ryke’s devilish smirk pulls tight. “Yeah, she trampled me last night really well.”

“Ryke!”

“What?” His brows jump as his eyes widen.

“She rides better than you ride that bike,” he adds insult to injury.

Cole shoves his hands flat into Ryke’s chest. It forces him to step back.

“Cole! Stop!” I push my way between them, holding an arm in both men’s faces. “Ryke, get in the fucking truck.”

Cole towers over me, his chest stiff against my arm. “Keep telling yourself she’s into you, meanwhile I’ll be sitting back, knowing she’s thinking about me every time she’s tasting you.”

He walks backward with his hands raised, shaking his head in the most arrogant manner.

“See you next Sunday, Max.” He smiles, pressing his tongue to the top teeth.

“I’m not picking Ri up at Colleen’s?”

“I think I’ll handle it.”

Ending it where it lies, I run my hands over Ryke’s back in hopes he continues walking to my truck and gets in without making another smart-ass comment. Cole would bloody his face in no time… and a small part of me is excited about his jealousy. At least I’m not the only one fighting feelings.

He stops and yells out. “You could talk to the mother of your child with some fucking respect when you see her again.”

Cole catches Riley running out the side door and turns away, ushering her back inside.

“Hey,” I scold Ryke, waving a finger. He shrugs and walks around the truck, hopping in.

He stares out the window, where his eyes have been locked for a while. I don’t think he’s blinked in five minutes. The highway isn’t that interesting.

And the robot is alive.Why is he staring at me like that?

“What?” I glance between him and the road.

“You still love him, don’t you?”

“Don’t let Cole get to you.” I twist the volume knob on the radio, turning it down. I can’t have this conversation over Ed Sheeran singing Galway Girl.

“Tell me, Max.” His eyes narrow. “Are you playing with me?”

“No. Never.”

“Then, do you still love him?”

I do and I won’t pretend like I don’t.

“Ryke…I’ll never stop. It doesn’t mean he should be my husband, but I can’t detach years of my life.”

“I don’t expect you to, but if you’re stringing me along…” A long, low exhale stops his statement. “I won’t be able to work with you. Max, I’m not trying to make it sound like if we break up, you’re fired. Trust is important to me. All I want is honesty.”

“You said let’s have fun till it’s not fun anymore. I don’t know when this got serious, but I’m not using you or playing you or whatever.“ My frustration plays across my face. “I like being with you and despite what Cole said, he’s the last thing on my mind when you’re fucking me. I’m thinking more about how closely related unicorns and pegasuses could be.”

His laugh cuts sharply. “I think you watch My Little Pony too much. It’s as if you watch it even when Riley is away.”

“You found me out. It’s my dirty little obsession.” I take one hand off the wheel, tucking my hair back. “Don’t rat me out to the guys,” I whisper.

“My lips are a locked vault.” He gestures, zipping his lips and locking them at the corner. “Throw away the key,” he adds, tossing the invisible key over his shoulder.

“I thought it had a combination code?” I glance at him.

“Were you trying to break in?”

“I do my research, but I’m not a locksmith.”

“Speaking of research, you’re not going to let me stay over tonight are you?”

If by bringing it up, he hopes I’ll change my mind, he’s wrong.

“Nope. Work comes before cunnilingus.”

“I’m still seventeen and believe it comes first.” Shifty eyes tease me. “I’m sorry. That was out of character back there.” He thumbs.

“Didn’t you go to jail when you were seventeen?” I tuck my chin, giving him I know what you did last summer eyes.

“Ah, you aren’t going to let go of that.” He lets out a breath. “Roxanne. The girl that made me a criminal. That’s her name.” He grabs his water bottle from the console and pops the top, taking a swig. I’m surprised he’s confessing. No…I’m scared. “We met at a party a month before my seventeen birthday.” May first. That’s his birthday. “She was charismatic and outspoken. Very much the center of attention.”

“Sounds familiar.” I shrug, glancing between him and the road.

“She’s not like me. Roxanne is a manipulative, deceptive cunt. I knew it right away, the type of person she was. Nobody told my dick. I’m lucky I didn’t get grand theft auto.”

“You stole a car?” I practically shout.

“A Honda Cbr.”

“A motorcycle.” Close your mouth, Max. You’re gawking.

Cole had been talking about getting a street bike for the past few months. Probably because he’s sick of that old truck. I liked that red and black crotch rocket. Ryke would look hot on it.

“Technically, Rox stole it, but I took the fall. If she would have kept her mouth shut, I wouldn’t have got into a fight with these two bikers at the traffic light. Cops showed, and she got off scot-free.” His head hangs, ashamed or maybe angry at how he let that play out. Ryke is a lover. A giver. But it’s becoming clear how much he’ll do for the one he cares about.

“The way you talk about it sounds like it wasn’t out of character for her to steal shit.” I squeeze the steering wheel in one hand.

“It wasn’t. She was trouble and I wasn’t.”

“You were a good boy? Awe. Actually, I can see that.”

“I was seventeen, peach. I bet all the mm’s you were a different person in high school.”

“Keep your candy. I was the girl that rode the sympathy train and tested the limits. My favorite thing to do was to disappear and see how long it would take for someone to find me,” I admit. Funny thing is, I will want to disappear at least once a week. My lens on life is colored differently, though.

“Where would you go?”

“In a tree or in a field…occasionally flat on my back in the middle of a road.”

“You had a death wish.” He nods. “I’m glad you lived.”

“To say I was depressed would be an understatement. C—” I stop myself, swallowing. There’s no way around it. I’m going to bring Cole up anytime we talk about the past. He’s going to have to get over it. “Cole saved me.”

“Storms bring rain. Rain makes things grow.” Here he goes. “I don’t like the way he treats you, but he’s a part of you journey. We can talk about it. Anytime you want to talk about it, we can talk about it.”

“I don’t deserve you.” The word slip out of my mouth.

“You deserve you, Max. Have you considered talking to someone, professionally?”

“I have. I was in therapy since I was thirteen and I hated it.”

“Then find a different therapist, psychologist, whoever it is that is right for you.” A stillness settles between us. “It’s your choice. I’m only here to support you.”