June
Ryder Hawke and I have spent a lot of time talking over the past few months, but nothing has prepared me for this kiss. No amount of flirting or friendly behavior has prepared me for the fact that he kisses like a god. He kisses like a king. He kisses like he’s perfectly comfortable being the sexiest man in the room.
And to my very own surprise, I kiss him back deeply.
Deliciously.
I kiss Ryder like he’s my king, and in this moment, he is. In this moment, Ryder is everything to me and I can’t quite stop thinking about the way that he tastes.
I allow myself to take my time with him tonight. I don’t often kiss men and women at Anchored. Okay, I never kiss anyone at Anchored. Ever. In all of the time I’ve had the club, tonight is the very first night I’ve kissed a patron.
Suddenly, I wonder why I didn’t do it sooner.
All of the reasons I had mentally listed have flown out the window. Somehow, I can’t seem to recall a single good reason for not touching people at the club. Seriously, what was I thinking? Ryder is touching me like he was born to do this and at the moment, I’m inclined to agree.
He kisses me slowly, deeply, and then, to my utter and complete surprise, Ryder draws a long, low moan from my lips. He pulls back and grins.
“That’s a pretty big smile,” I say.
“It was a pretty good kiss,” he counters. Ryder reaches out and strokes my cheek, igniting a flame between my legs that hasn’t existed in a very long time.
Oh, don’t get me wrong: I masturbate all the time. After spending so much time at Anchored, I’d have to be a nun not to need some sort of release. We have so many sexy happenings at the club that sometimes when I go home, I need release. I need to come apart. I need it.
Apparently, what I’ve really needed is Ryder Hawke all to myself.
Still, it’s different when he’s touching me, playing with me. Ryder seems to make every inch of my body come to life. I’m very aware of every part of myself right now and it’s all because of Ryder.
It’s all because this man, this liar, is incredible.
Oh, I haven’t forgotten that Ryder has a secret. It’s one I’m slightly desperate to know, to be honest. I’ve Googled him and Facebooked him, but everything seems to check out. Ryder Hawke is, in fact, just some small-town writer who came to Westbrook to give it a shot.
He really is a man who knows what he wants.
“Come home with me,” he whispers, touching me. Then his eyes meet mine and I see that he’s just as surprised as I am. I’m guessing he got swept up in the moment because he’s not the type of Dom to bring a submissive home. In the time he’s been a member, I’ve had my eye on Ryder. I’ve never seen him spend more than one night with a submissive and I’ve never seen him invite anyone to leave with him.
There have been several broken hearts during his time here.
“I’m not who you think I am,” I tell him with a sigh. Pulling away, I lean against the back counter and just look at him. “I don’t do this,” I tell him. “I don’t fool around at the club.”
“I know,” he says.
“No,” I shake my head. “It’s not just a line, Ryder. I never, ever fool around with people from the club. I never have. I’m not ready to cross that line.”
“You felt the connection between us,” he says. “Don’t tell me you didn’t.”
I shrug and look away. He’s right. I did feel it. I felt something powerful drawing us together, but I have responsibilities he doesn’t understand. I can’t just go home with him. Not with Ryder.
“I didn’t,” I lie. “I’m sorry.”
“That’s ten,” he says.
“Excuse me?” I look up at Ryder sharply. He can’t possibly be serious. Ten spankings? That’s what he’s going to give me because he thinks I’m lying? He couldn’t possibly know that.
“You heard me,” he says. His face is stern, but Ryder’s eyes are twinkling. He’s enjoying this, I realize. He likes this banter, this dialogue between us. “When I finally get you into my bed, June Gables, I’m going to give you the spanking you just earned.” He leans in a little bit and adds, “and more.”
Then Ryder slides off his barstool and tips an invisible hat, turns, and walks away.
And now I’m alone in the bar wondering what the hell I’m supposed to do now.
***
My week passes slowly.
Every day, I look at Ryder’s number in my phone and think about calling him.
And every day, I set my phone down and roll my eyes because I am a huge idiot. I shouldn’t even have his number, but I pulled it from his membership record and added him as a contact in my phone. You know, just in case.
Just in case what?
Just in case I have a pussy emergency only he can help me with?
No matter how much I masturbate this week, I can’t get Ryder out of my head. Nothing offers me relief from the warm sensation that’s been growing inside of me. There’s just nothing that can erase the feeling of his tongue on mine, and I hate this. I hate how vulnerable I feel when I’m thinking about him. I hate how eager, how needy I am.
Ryder Hawke is one hell of a man, but me?
I’m no match for him.
Not in any way.
So I do my best to push Ryder out of my head and instead of fantasizing about him, I think about work, I think about my family, and I think about the direction I want to take the club. We already have beginner and intermediate classes in place, but I’d like to add some advanced bondage classes, as well. I think it’ll be a great way to help my members learn and explore this part of themselves.
I think they’ll love being able to safely learn new techniques when it comes to BDSM and playing with their partners. One of the most important things to me is that I provide a safe, educational place for my members. BDSM clubs seem to have this reputation of being sketchy and dirty. I want to change that.
I want to change the whole damn world.
If I do nothing else with my life, I want to know that I did something to help my friends. Piper, Christina, Thorn, Lily…these people have become my dear, dear friends. While many of Anchored’s original members came to the club as strangers, we’ve gotten close, and I don’t know what I’d do without them. Odessa has been incredible. Mistress D? She’s been fantastic.
And then there’s Ryder.
There’s beautiful, perfect, no-good-for-me-at-all Ryder.
I sit back in my chair and sigh.
I would do anything for that man, and that’s a dangerous thing.