Chapter 22
I said something the other morning and it not only surprised the fuck out of me, it shook me down to my soul. The “M” word has never come from my mouth. Ever. I’ve never tasted it, yet now it’s up front, terrorizing my thoughts and it’s all I want to savor. I played it off and told her I wouldn’t run off and marry her tomorrow, but that was a bold-faced lie. I would. And that fucking scares the motherfucking piss out of me.
Although I know there’s something deeper than attraction, more intense than love between her and me, for her to have this much control over me is paralyzing.
She’s been at the gym every afternoon since coming home from my fight with Lascher. Something about the fight fucked up her thoughts. Kyce told me she struggled with the whole thing and she was inches away from having a meltdown after the fight and before I got back into the room.
It crushed me to know she had that much fear and she held it away from me.
Instead of running, she’s on the mat or in the ring with me while I give her something different daily. Basic training stuff to more methodical techniques I know she’ll never use, but I’m including them so she’ll understand better. She asks questions, listens, and watches, following my directions.
I’ll give it to her—she’s trying her damnedest and it’s the fucking sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. When she concentrates deeply, crinkles form across her forehead, strengthening between her eyebrows. She runs her tongue along the corner of her lip and it’s distracting as fuck, making it hard to focus on the task at hand.
I have found out I love pushing her and pissing her off. Her face gets twisted with anger and her fists become more wiry. She’s a fireball with no rhyme or reason to her executions but I know if it comes down to a dire situation and I’m not there, she’ll be able to handle herself.
Today, she called and said she wasn’t coming to the gym but is coming to my house. I’m assuming she’s sore. Last night, I wrestled around with her, not because I gave a damn about teaching her a fucking thing, but because to have her sweaty body against me was a fucking turn on.
I pull open the door and my dick itches to feel her. She’s still in her work clothes, professional and sexy wearing a black and white silky blouse that will be on the floor soon, crimson red jeans that will also be on the floor soon, and black heels that will be hooked around my waist. She can leave them on.
She holds up a brown paper bag with a wry twist to her sultry lips. “Jay sends his regards.”
I laugh tugging her to me. “Have you told him I’m taken?”
She scrunches her nose. “I don’t want to break his heart.”
I claim her lips, plunging my tongue into her mouth. She squeezes my biceps and fire begins to burn in my blood. She’s panting when I release her mouth.
“You gonna stand there and drool over me or would you like to come in?” I jest. “You could drool while I make you come.”
She slaps my chest walking past me. “You’re—”
“Fucking sexy as hell. I know. You don’t have to tell me,” I interrupt her with smug humor.
She places the food on the counter. Her hips. Her ass. Her legs. It’s been two days since I’ve been inside of her and I’m craving the feel of her heat wrapped around my cock. I seize her waist and lift her to the counter as she wraps her arms around my neck. I savor her lips, dipping my tongue into her mouth and pressing my bulge into the center of her legs.
Her breath hitches but she slides her hands between us and pushes me back slightly. “I can’t. Not right now.” Despair is declared in every inch of her gaze.
Comprehension disappoints my cock.
She hops off the counter, clutches my hand and leads me toward the living room. She looks over her shoulder with devilish seduction and it ignites something carnal to pang my chest. She pulls my waist and gets a handful of my ass. Biting her lip, she peers up to me while she unbuttons my pants and lowers my zipper.
No words are needed where she’s taking this.
A rogue smirk tugs my lips. She releases my dick from my pants and strokes it while her forced-confident gaze remains on me.
She’s sexy as fuck when she pushes herself to a whole new level.
She shoves me to the couch and goes down to her knees between my legs. The heat of her mouth engulfs my cock and I fight to keep my view of her, resisting the urge to drop my head to the back of the couch and miss this. Rising off, she flattens her tongue, lapping from the base to the tip, flicking her eyes up with pleasure etched in her expression as she swirls her tongue across the tip.
I watch, rapt, witnessing a fantasy.
She mixes her kisses, soft and heavy along my shaft, continuing to stroke it. And then she presses her closed lips to my tip and sucks in an inch, retreating, and circling her tongue again.
She drops my pulsing cock and dances her tongue under my nuts. I groan, beckoning my restraint. Dragging her lips up my length, she sucks my dick into her mouth without any motherfucking help from her hands.
“Holy fuck,” I rasp, losing the battle, and drop my head back for a second.
Her lips wrap my cock, her hand gripping the bottom, and she begins her onslaught, rising and falling. Salvia glistens on my shaft. Her eyes are on me. Mine on the erotic show she’s giving me.
She flicks the tip of her tongue under my tip and takes all of it again. My restraint splinters. I move her hair from her face and out of my view, twisting it in my hand.
Her fingers bite into my thigh and my jaw ticks.
A deep guttural groan escapes my throat and I tighten my grip in her hair, easing her head down, seriously testing my fucking limits as to how much she can take. It forces her other hand away and she roams my stomach with it.
Control—she trusts me with it.
I thrust, fucking her mouth, guiding her up and down. She whimpers her pleasure. Tension builds up and I can feel my ending.
“Whit,” I growl my warning.
Her eyes flick up to mine. She grips my dick again, twisting her wrists and starts a delicious hasty bob as her tongue rides my shaft.
“Whit,” I warn again with more urgency.
She doesn’t stop her assault and sucks harder adding a heavy moan.
It’s my undoing.
Staggering mind-blowing bolts of electricity…
“Fuck,” I hiss, holding her hair and pumping fiercely into her mouth.
She draws the last drop from me and with a weak smile, holds up a finger before rushing off to the bathroom.
I drop my head, eyes closed, sliding into a state of submission.
I’m still lax, arms to the side, dick still pulsing, intoxicated as hell when she returns. I crack open an eye. Her lips are plump, swollen and red, looking as pleased as I am.
“I can do some things, but I can’t do them all,” she informs, standing at the end of the couch with a lopsided smirk.
“Mmmm…” I hum, closing my eyes, still not moving.
My satiation is dissolved by the sound of my phone ringing and I open an eye again to see Whitney grab it off the table. She grimaces, her face wilting and then hands it to me.
Abby. Shit.
I tuck myself back into my pants before answering. Feels too close to cheating.
“Yeah?” I answer.
“I need you,” she rushes out. “There was this guy. He…” she snubs and it catches all my attention.
“What’s wrong?” I snap.
“Can you come get me?” she asks.
I slide my view to Whitney, who is desperately keeping herself together, and shove to my feet. “Yeah. Where are you?”
“Giovanni’s,” she cries. Quietly.
“Are you safe?” I ask, grabbing Whitney by the elbow, and walk out the door.
“Yes,” she answers, but her tone implies she doesn’t feel it.
I’m barreling down the road, gripping my steering wheel, and trying my best to remain calm.
I am not fucking calm.
“Is everything okay?” Whitney asks genuinely concerned.
It takes me a moment to respond. “I don’t know,” I clip.
I pull up to the front of the restaurant and tell Whitney to stay put. She isn’t happy about it, but she’s smart, knowing now’s not the time to pick a fight. I’m striding toward the front door when it swings open and Abby comes rushing out, throwing herself into my arms. Black trails of mascara mark a path down her cheeks.
“What happened?” I gruff.
She shifts, meeting my glare. Anguish saturates her complexion. “Just take me home, please.”
I exhale a pissed breath through my nose and walk her to the truck. Whitney hurries out of the truck, opening the back door, looking as worried as I’m feeling.
Abby’s feet stop. “Oh my God, Ryker. I’m sorry.” She begins backing away. “I didn’t know—”
“Get in the truck,” I grit, scooting her along by her back.
Whitney shuts the door and hops back in the truck, but I can feel the vibes are off.
“Abs, what the fuck happened?” I ground out, pulling my truck onto the road.
I hear her take a shaky breath trying to compose herself. I glance in the rearview mirror and she’s looking down at her lap. “You have to promise me you won’t do anything.”
Whiney snaps her head to me. I clench my jaw, glaring at Abby in the mirror.
“It’s not a promise,” I give her.
“I met this guy. I thought he was different.” She twists her lips trying to keep her tears at bay.
It only fuels me. I squeeze the steering wheel tighter.
“He didn’t like my answer when he wanted to have sex,” she adds.
Rage. I slam on my brakes—thankfully, with no one behind us, because that thought isn’t in my sights—throwing everyone forward and twist around to her. “What the fuck do you mean he didn’t like the answer? Did he fucking ra—”
“No!” she shouts. “No.” This time it’s quieter. “He hit me.”
Rage turns to a roaring fury.
Whitney gasps, turning to her. “Are you okay? Do you want to call the cops?”
Abby shakes her head, not lifting it or meeting anyone’s eyes.
I’ve known Abby for years and have never witnessed her so brittle. And never scared. It’s doing a fucking number on me.
“Abby, I’m going to—”
“Take me home,” she finishes my sentence. “You’re going to leave it alone and take me home. I won’t be seeing him again and after kicking him in the nuts as hard as I did, he’s probably not going to see his dick for months.”
“Do I know this character?” I fire off.
“Ryker.” Her bloodshot, humiliated eyes level with mine. “Please.”
I look to Whitney and then drive. And stew. And get more pissed by the mile. When we finally pull up to her house, I’m vibrating in such an intense anger, I’m almost scared of myself.
Again, I tell Whitney to wait in the truck, and I walk Abby to her door making sure to stay in Whitney’s view.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I ask.
She pats my chest, glancing back to the truck. “She’s beautiful.”
“Abs,” I ground out between clenched teeth.
“I debated on calling you because I knew you’d get all Rykerish on me. But no one answered their phone and I was scared to call a cab. I’m fine, Ryker. Shaken up, but I’m fine.”
“What are you doing with a douche like that?”
“He hasn’t been anything but sweet to me. Sending flowers, bringing lunch to my work.” She looks down. “He didn’t like the idea of having to wait longer for sex.” She shrugs and looks back up. “Win some, lose some.”
“Does he know where you live?”
She puffs a laugh before tiptoeing to kiss my cheek. “You’ve taught me a lot over the years, Ryker. Thank you.”
I wait for her to disappear behind the safety of her door and head back to my truck.
“Is she going to be okay?” Whitney asks.
Her heart is solid gold.
I sigh, raking my hands over my face. “She says so.”
That’s the extent of our conversation as I drive back to my house. I can feel the shift in Whitney. It isn’t bad, but it isn’t good either. I’m contemplating how to explain Abby. Omit part of the truth, or trust my girl trusts me. It’s a risk I’m afraid of.
As we enter back in the house, she heads straight for the bag of food she left on the counter before she sidetracked us both.
“I’m not hungry, but if you are…” she trails, waiting for my reply.
I dip my head and kiss her cheek. “I’m not.”
She drops her head. “I’m trying really, really hard here. I feel there’s something between you two, but in my heart I don’t think I have anything to worry about. Please tell me I’m right.”
God, the dispirit in her voice threatens to claw my heart out.
I crook my finger under her chin and pull her face up to mine. I need her to see. I need her to understand. “Nothing to worry about.” I swallow. “She and I have been friends for a long time. I’m not going to stand here and lie and say nothing physical has ever happened. But I’m standing here telling you I love you and I’m with you.”
She nods. “I trust you.”
Relief crackles in my blood, swallowing my chest whole. I kiss her lips softly.
She pulls back, slightly. “I need to go.”
I close my eyes, resting my forehead against hers. “Whit, don’t run away, please.”
She shakes her head. “I’m not. I promise. I just need to breathe.” She grabs her purse. “Understand where I’m coming from.”
I stare at her and clench my jaw as she kisses it.
“I’m trusting you. Now you have to trust me. Okay?” she whispers.
I dip my chin, keeping my view on the empty air in front of me. I don’t watch her walk out.