by Lynn Burke
Heaving a heavy sigh didn’t help as I reached for my cell, needing to call her.
Stacey answered—and told me that her parents had sent Dasia home earlier that morning.
“Can I ask why?” I prodded, curious if she’d been talking about Mr. Griffey and pissed Stacey’s parents off.
“You didn’t hear?” Stacey asked, her voice raising like a typical teenage girl sharing the latest drama and gossip. “Mr. Griffey got mugged after leaving work last night!”
“What?”
“Yeah, he left the office and someone beat him up. Took off with his wallet and briefcase.”
“Is he alright?” Not that I truly cared…
“He had to get stitches. Broken nose or something my mom said. Personally,” her voice lowered to a whisper, “I’m thinking karma is paying him back for what he did to Dasia.”
I wanted to agree, but couldn’t discuss those types of things with Dasia’s friend. After thanking her for the information, I hung up—and immediately dialed the Griffey’s house number.
Mrs. Griffey answered and repeated what Stacey had told me, assuring me her husband was fine, again not that I cared, before handing the phone over to Dasia.
“Can you hold on a sec?” Dasia asked, then I heard her muffled voice tell Mrs. Griffey she was taking the phone to her room if that was alright.
A minute later, a door closed.
“You’ll never guess what happened!” she holler-whispered in my ear.
“I heard Mr. Griffey got mugged last night.”
“Well, that, too, but he apologized to me,” Dasia said. “When I got back here this morning, he was sitting in the living room with an ice pack on his face. You should see him—busted nose, stitches, black eyes.” She laughed quietly. “Totally got the shit kicked out of him!”
“What do you mean he apologized?” I asked rather than laugh along with her like I really wanted to do.
“Oh. Yeah.” Muffled shifting sounded in my ear. “When his wife left the living room,” Dasia whispered again, “he stared right at me—but not creepy at all—and said he’d made a mistake, that he would take it back if he could. Said it wouldn’t happen again, that he’d had a moment of weakness. Stress at work and that sort of shit.”
“Huh.” I wasn’t sure what to make of the apology.
“Right?”
“So how do you feel about the situation?”
“Not as bad as I did yesterday,” Dasia said, and I could hear an ease in her voice I hadn’t for months. “The guy is still an ass for what he did, though.”
I exhaled another heavy breath. “Well, I have some bad news.”
“I have to stay here, don’t I?” The disappointment in her voice stung.
“Yes. I’m sorry, Dasia. The foster home I’d hoped to place you in isn’t going to work out.”
“Well, that sucks ass.”
“I’m sorry,” I repeated, my own disappointment rising again. “But it sounds like things might be okay.”
“Dunno. Seems to be, but I’ve only been back for like two hours.”
While I appreciated Mr. Griffey’s recognizing he’d done wrong and apologizing for it, a nagging feeling in my gut made me not trust him. I didn’t want to upset or worry Dasia, but I reminded her to still be careful and left it at that. I also promised to continue looking for something else.
Feeling somewhat relieved, but not entirely as I would have been placing Dasia elsewhere, I told myself I would hope for the best and try to enjoy my weekend away.
Butterflies danced in my belly the rest of the day, and sleep didn’t come easily that night.
Saturday morning, I checked in with Dasia—no change, and her foster father made no attempts on her doorknob during the night. That bubbling hope returned in full force after hanging up, and I showered and shaved, mentally preparing myself for a nice long ride on the back of Ryker’s motorcycle and the sure, sore backside in exchange for another taste of freedom.
He’d said to pack an overnight bag, so I dug out an old backpack, thinking that would be the best since bikes didn’t have real back seats or trunks.
Ryker surprised me by knocking on my door a half hour early, but I’d been ready and waiting, jitters keeping me from sitting down to wait patiently. Black leather pants clung to his thighs, and another white t-shirt did the same to his chest I couldn’t wait for another peek of. Damn, I wished I could touch…
Warmth slid up over me to my cheeks as a corner of his lips twitched and he shut the door behind him. “Looking good, little lamb.”
A rush of arousal slicked the sexy panties I’d bought for our outing even though knowing the thong would drive me insane on the bike.
His focus settled on my chest, and my nipples pebbled beneath his stare. Did he want to touch? Nibble? More of those bubbles sprang up inside me, and I decided to push just a bit. I lifted my girls, helping them spill halfway out of the top of my shirt.
“Want a taste?” I whispered, all breathy with lust.
He raised an eyebrow while lifting his focus to my face, his hands fisted at his sides. “Did you pack a bag?” he asked instead, all the wind leaking from my randy sails.
“Yeah.” I dropped the girls and turned to grab my backpack off the couch, bending over the back like I’d done the weekend before. Didn’t hurt to try, right?
Ryker groaned, and I wiggled my backside while glancing over my shoulder. “That offer of a taste still stands…”
“Goddamnit, woman.” He didn’t move.
Fine. The day is young.
I laughed and turned, slipping my bag onto my back. “I’m ready to roll if you are.”
Shaking his head, Ryker led the way out of my apartment. The second surprise came when he stopped alongside a different Harley—an actual two-seater with saddle bags.
He unbuckled the one on the right and motioned me to stuff my backpack inside. I did and buckled it back up while eyeing my new seat. It looked ten times more comfy than the one that had numbed my ass—but I wouldn’t have to hold onto his cut or touch his thighs while pretending to hold on tighter, either.
“How many bikes do you have?” I asked while buckling on the helmet he handed to me.
“Only the one.”
“Whose is this?”
“Warden’s. He’s an enforcer. Got himself an old lady and decided he needed a second seat.”
“Smart man.” I grinned and climbed aboard as he started the engine. The pipes on Warden’s bike weren’t as loud as Ryker’s, but the rush of wind, the exhilaration of speeding along the highway with whipping wind around me felt the same.
I laughed, closed my eyes, tipped my head back, and just enjoyed the hell out of life.
****
Ryker had gotten us a room in Ogunquit—with a king-sized bed rather than two doubles, which thrilled me to death. I’d get another chance to maybe wake up somehow entwined with his hard muscles and warm skin.
The thought kept me in a constant state of arousal, even while hanging out on the beach, enjoying the cooler breeze blowing in off the ocean. Even had I known we headed to the beach, I wouldn’t have opted for a bathing suit. My girls and bits of spandex did not get along enough for my liking.
For forty-three, Ryker rocked his trunks, and I couldn’t keep my eyes off him as he dove into the waves and came up dripping, water running in rivulets down his shaved head and beard. He smiled—a full-on grin like a kid before diving in a second time.
“Get your ass out here!” he called to me.
How could I resist?
Soaked panties and shorts, soaked bra and tank top, but I joined him, wetting my own hair that had been flattened by the helmet anyway. The makeup I’d painted on my face melted away in the salt water—but I hadn’t even thought of it until Ryker smirked while looking at my face.
“Drowned rat?” I asked, not offended in the least as he chuckled.
“Black-eyed rat.”
I splashed water at him. “Bastard.”
&n
bsp; He chuckled, and a wave slammed into us, tugging me downward.
I shrieked and reached out on instinct, grabbing hold of his arm to keep me above water. Finding my feet, I balanced—and realized his hand held my hip.
Heat rushed through me as I blinked the water from my eyes and peered up at him. Less than a foot of space separating us. A smaller wave rocked the water, merely swaying us on our feet—but he stepped back as though I’d burned him, twisting his arm to rid him of my hold.
“Sorry,” I murmured, my heart squeezing in my chest.
His beard twitched as though he clenched his jaw, and he nodded. “I’m fucking starved.”
I smiled brightly, fake as hell, and nodded. “Food sounds good.”
I swallowed against the disappointment popping those hopeful bubbles, and followed him out of the water. He had reached out to steady me on my feet—a protective nature to override his wound or fear.
We still had the night and next day. I hung my hat on the progress made and the determination to continue down that path.
Chapter Fifteen
Ryker
My hand had shot out on its own to steady Pia—and fear had ripped me away. But I couldn’t keep from looking at her lips the rest of the day. She’d been so close, so vulnerable in her gaze, the desire in her eyes while peering up at me in the ocean … I’d almost given into the need to pull her close against my chest.
Couldn’t fucking do it.
I stared at her lips while we ate lunch at a clam shack, our clothes still damp in some spots, rigid from salt water in others. A real date, her sandals sometimes brushing against my feet beneath the picnic table and all.
Her mouth. Pouty. Full lips. Every swipe of her tongue over their pinkness sent an ache through my balls.
I couldn’t kiss them, but I sure as fuck could have them wrapped around my dick.
We returned to the hotel room after another hour on the beach eating ice cream cones—another blue ball punch to my groin with every dart of her tongue. She insisted I shower first since she would take longer, and the second I exited the bathroom, a towel wrapped around my waist, she looked up from her cell, her gaze snagging on me.
“Damn,” she whispered, tossing her cell aside.
I stepped out of her way as she approached with her bag in hand even though I’d have preferred grabbing her and tossing her ass on the bed for me to devour, saltiness from the ocean on her skin be damned.
My fucking hands shook with the need to do it. Dick swelled. Mouth salivated like a goddamn drooling dog.
The bathroom door clicked behind her, and I closed my eyes, letting out a slow exhale.
Fuck, how I wished I could tear down the goddamn walls inside me. Wished like hell overcoming the stress of my childhood came easy. I had the perfect opportunity, the perfect woman—kind, nurturing, and sweet—but the goddamn fear…
Scowling, I tossed the towel onto the room’s chair and sat, legs spread, dick at half-mast.
I listened to the shower run, imagining Pia running her hands over her body, every swell, dip, and curve. Until the water shut off, my balls seized up, my dick leaked, and I worked my hand up and down with slow strokes.
Waiting.
The door creaked open, and Pia pulled up abruptly in the doorway as her gaze landed on me. Damp blonde hair hung around her beautiful makeup-less face, and a see through t-shirt covered her from chest to thigh, but I couldn’t keep my focus off her mouth.
“Come here, little lamb.” I growled the command.
She caught her lower lip between her teeth, but didn’t hesitate to close the distance between us and kneel without being asked. The scent of juicy watermelon swarmed over me as she gave me that same fucking look she had in the ocean. All lust and need.
“Want a taste?” I asked, my voice rugged as I pushed against the base of my dick to offer it to her.
Her goddamn dimple popped as she smiled, entwining her hands behind her back without being asked. “Please.”
Goddamn…
The warmth of her mouth closed over me, and I groaned while watching my length disappear until she gagged.
“Only take what you can,” I told her—and found my fingers wrapping in her hair without thought.
Fuck.
But I couldn’t let go. She moaned and lowered her face once more, my being in a seated position making her forehead brush my abs, her shoulders against the insides of my thighs.
I felt like a goddamn engine ready to combust—fire and fuel mixing to the point I went light headed with every swipe of her tongue, every gentle scrape of her teeth.
My fingers tightened in her hair, and I pulled her back with a pop. “On the bed.” Fuck, I didn’t sound like me—raspy as hell, uneven tone, fucking shaking voice.
She rocked back onto her heels and up to her feet the second I released her. “How do you want me, Ryker?” she asked with a whisper, her voice all sexy and low.
Any way. Every goddamn way. Face to face—wrapped up in your softness.
“On your knees. Ass up.”
Pia pulled her shirt up over her head leaving her naked from perfect tits to unpainted perfect pinky toe, and I drank my fill while grasping the base of my dick to keep from shooting spunk up over my chest.
She crawled onto the bed, her lush ass swaying, tantalizing…
“Closer to the headboard,” I said, standing. “Keep your legs together.”
Pia bent forward, chest to the bed and ass in the air, the top of her head against the headboard. Wetness smeared at the junction of her thighs, but the holes I wanted to claim couldn’t be seen with her legs pressed tightly together.
I grabbed a condom from my bag and rolled it on while climbing onto the bed behind her.
“Fuck, you’ve got curves to drive a man mad,” I growled, straddling her legs, dick in hand. One swipe of my sheathed dick up through her crack coated me with creaminess my mouth drooled for.
I’d never tasted a woman in my life. Not fucking once.
I ran the pad of my thumb over the tip of the condom and lifted it to my nose. Musky and sweet. My goddamn taste buds ached.
I licked, and the tanginess of her filled my mouth, jerking my dick against her ass. The desire to shove my face in her pussy and devour every inch of her slammed into me, stealing my breath.
I shoved balls deep into her body without warning to keep from crossing that hard line.
She shrieked and grasped the pillow beneath her head while I grabbed hold of the headboard and plowed into her over and over. Lost. Fucking gone on her scent, her taste. Over-fucking-whelmed like an animal hell bent on tearing her in two.
Pia fucking consumed me—every goddamn thought, every emotion—if only she could consume the walls inside me with the same fire ignited through my body.
I wanted to let loose the cum boiling in my balls, but I needed more.
Had to fucking have it.
I pulled back onto my heels. “Roll over.”
Her chest heaved as she peered up at me, her tits swayed off to her side, nipples hardened points. Pupils blown fucking wide open … her lips parted with pants.
“Grab the headboard.”
She obeyed.
“Feet on the mattress—spread your thighs for me just like last time, little lamb.” My voice shook—her entire body shook.
Her pussy lips, puffed and glistening set the water works in my mouth on full onslaught, but I lifted my focus to her face.
More.
I crowded in close, my dick finding home, my thighs against her spread ones, my hands inches from hers on the headboard—my focus on her eyes.
Goddamn it all to fucking hell—she owned me.
I dragged out of her pussy, holding her gaze, drinking in every shift of emotion in her light eyes same as the first time I’d fucked her face to face.
“Ryker,” she whisper-moaned my name, lifting her hips to meet me as I dipped into her again.
Pink crept up her chest, coated her cheeks as I slowly
fucked in and out of her, barely holding onto my sanity. Every flex of my ass buried my dick inside her warmth. Every grind of my pelvis against her clit pulled a gasp from her parted lips.
I wanted to taste. Eat. Lick and bite.
A haze overshadowed her eyes as they widened.
“Oh…” She arched beneath me, her tits brushing me—but the clench of her sweet pussy around my aching length overrode the skin on skin contact of our chests. The intense energy, the emotion radiating from her eyes pulled me under.
My balls fucking exploded, and I grunted, slamming into her body’s grasp, shot after shot of cum seeming to rip from my groin with a pain so goddamn sweet, I didn’t want it to end. Couldn’t fucking look away from her face. Flushed. Beautiful.
One last shudder ripped through me, slamming my eyes shut.
Head hanging, hands in a death grip on the headboard, I stilled, buried inside her, groin still flush against the slick silk of hers. Unable to move.
She touched my beard, and I reared back on instinct, slipping from her body.
“Fuck.”
“Sorry,” she hastened to say, pushing up to her elbows. “I didn’t mean—”
“It’s okay.” I scrubbed a hand down over my face, trying to still the slamming of my heart her touch had activated. “I’m sorry. Fuck. Sorry, Pia.”
I rolled off the bed and escaped into the bathroom, eyeing myself in the mirror—cursing myself while rolling off the condom and tying it up.
Fucking loser. Pathetic fuck can’t even stand a woman’s light touch on your beard for fuck’s sake.
I threw the condom in the trash, scowling and teeth grit, while getting a warm, wet towel for Pia.
She didn’t utter a word when I took it to her, nor when I sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on knees, and face in my hands.
“I’m sorry,” I repeated.
“Am I the only woman you’ve had sex with like that?”
I lifted up and turned to find her on her side, hands tucked beneath her cheek.
It would be so easy to drown in her eyes…
“Yes,” I rasped.
Her smile warmed up the coldness inside me. “Thank you for sharing that part of you with me.”
