F*CKER

by Amo Jones

  She sighed, slumping back down onto the chair. “Fuck. Okay. You’re right.” She pulled her phone back out of her pocket and slid it across the kitchen island.

  I pushed off the counter to grab it and her eyebrows drew in.

  “What, Phoebe? Spit it out.”

  “It’s just… please don’t do anything to him, Ryker. I don’t care about who he is, Vicky’s brother or not, but you’re my brother. I don’t want you to end up in jail again.”

  Oh shit. I swallowed past the rock of nerves that had set up shop.

  I cleared my throat. “Yeah, we’ll see.”

  I unlocked her phone and punched in her passcode. I’d figured it out a while ago. I know everything there is to know about Phoebe. It opened up on Facebook to a video on Indie’s page with the caption: Fuck happy endings.

  I pushed play… then I lost it.

  It was the afternoon after our limo antics when my phone started going nuts. I paused my conversation with Connor and picked up my phone to see who it was.

  “Ryker?” Indie asked, with a smirk. I flipped her off and slid it open.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, are you alone?” Phoebe asked in a breathless tone.

  “Yes, well, no. I’m in the living room, but it’s just Indie and Connor, why?”

  “Fuck,” she whispered heavily. “Bryleigh, who is Connor? And if he has been touching your lady parts like Jake has, I suggest he start running right now.”

  I straightened my back. “What do you mean? And no, Connor hasn’t been touching any of my lady parts, same with Jake. What’s going on?”

  “Well, he better run, just in case you don’t have time to explain that to Ryker. He saw the video of you and Jake, Bry. I tried to calm him down after he saw you leaving the club with him, and the shot of you both in the limo. But then he saw the video.”

  My face paled and my heart clenched. “What’d he do?”

  “His walls have holes leading to the front door. He wasn’t even wearing a shirt when he left, because he had been working out. He threw on a cap and snatched the keys to his Porsche 918 Spyder, meaning fast—and by the way, it’s matte black now with black rims and no spoiler, in case you want to run away from him—before taking off.”

  “Shit,” I whispered, standing from my seat. The fact Phoebe told me the exact model of his car isn’t out of the ordinary; she probably couldn’t help it. “Okay, thanks for the heads up. And Phoebe?”

  “Yeah?” she answered.

  “I didn’t sleep with Jake. What’re you doing?”

  “I know, and I’m leaving now. I shouldn’t be too far behind. I’m bringing the GTR, so I’ll catch up to him.”

  Jesus.

  “Okay, thanks. Drive safe.”

  “Always don’t.”

  I rolled my eyes and hung up, tossing my phone onto the sofa, Indie and Connor both watching me closely.

  “What’s happening?” Indie asked, standing from her spot on the floor. I ran my fingers through my hair, pushing it back.

  “Ryker saw the video and is about to raise hell. I need to get out of here.”

  “Shit.” Indie walked up to me. “Go, I’ll hold it down here, but you might want to go somewhere he won’t know.”

  “Thanks. Just until he cools off, and then I’ll handle him.” I walked toward the stairs, and Indie yelled out, “Honey, one problem with that.”

  I paused on the first step, spinning around to face her. “What’s that?”

  “You’re the only person who has ever been able to calm him.”

  I ignored her and shot up the stairs, walking into the master bedroom and pulling out some clothes, since I was lying out in sweatpants and a baggy shirt. It was lazy Sunday; I was lucky to be wearing a bra. I pulled out my spandex shorts and slipped on a sports bra before throwing over a loose fitting mesh tank top that showed most of my bra. I smiled, taking the keys of my Audi off the chest of drawers. I knew exactly where I was going to go, and he wouldn’t have a clue where that was.

  Dropping it down to third, I floored it all the way to where Indie’s condo was. I knew that was where Bryleigh had been staying, and Indie had stayed in the same apartment for years. Although she and Leo hadn’t spoken since high school, he still knew everything about her and had us check up on her a few times throughout the years. Not him, the pussy couldn’t stomach seeing her. I was reaching her house, when Phoebe’s GTR pulled up behind me. I laughed, gripping onto the inside of the door handle and swinging it open. “Are you kidding me?”

  She got out of her car in her four-inch heels and her blonde hair flowing effortlessly down her back. The girl was class-A fucking stunning, but she’d kick my ass in her sleep if she had to. Looking at her like that was like incest, but she was still cute as shit when she was mad. Ryder must have lots of fun with that.

  “You! We had a deal, Ryker!”

  “Fuck your deal, Phoebe.”

  I spun around and walked toward the front door, when it opened before I even reached it.

  “Oh whaddya know, two expensive cars and one hothead rock star. How can I help you, Ryker?”

  “Don’t play bullshit with me, Indigo.” I smirked at her, and she jerked the door open more forcefully, the handle hitting the wall. A loud chuckle erupted from the sitting room.

  “Ingido? Really?”

  “Shut the fuck up, Connor.”

  “Who the fuck’s that?” I growled.

  “That is my pain-in-the-ass roommate Connor, who has not been…” A look of triumph came over her face as her arms crossed in front of her. “Who has not been rubbing up all over your girl.”

  “Where is she, Indie?” I said through clenched teeth.

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. She got into some workout gear and said she was going somewhere that would clear her head—whatever that meant.” My eyes narrowed on Indie, but it was too late. As she said it, understanding set into her words and what Bryleigh had meant. I pushed off the doorframe and bolted to my car.

  “Ryker! Wait!” Indie yelled, but I already had the car in first gear and was double clutching out of that road so fast not even Phoebe could catch me.

  Drills. Something I’d loathed as a teenager. My dad would make me warm up with ten sets before he would let me even touch the ball. Yet now, they brought me solace. The sweat dripped from my forehead as thoughts of Ryker came pounding into my mind. Once I finished, I picked up the orange basketball I had been acquainted with since I was a little girl and tossed it in the air.

  I remembered the day my dad bought it for me crystal clear. It was the day after the height of the Lakers’ early-2000s dynasty, where they faced their West Coast rivals, the Sacramento Kings in the 2002 Western Conference Finals—a series that still stood in NBA history as one of the greatest playoff series of all time, despite allegations of referee corruption. The action stretched over seven games, with the last four of the series being won in the closing seconds, but it was Lakers power forward Robert Horry’s buzzer beater in game four that took our top spot for best three-point buzzer beater in NBA history.

  Under pressure, and down by two, Kobe Bryant and Shaquille O’Neal both missed layups. Former Lakers center and human jellyfish Vlade Divac blocked Bryant’s shot and attempted to swat the ball out of bounds to run out the clock, but instead swatted it right to Horry, who sank the buzzer beater from the top of the key. The Lakers won 100-99 and would go on to beat the Kings, and then the New Jersey Nets, securing their second three-peat NBA championship in franchise history.

  I smiled from the memories as I flipped the basketball around in my hand, bouncing it on the concrete. I began dribbling it between my legs like old times. It was funny how I haven’t had a ball in my hand for years, but haven’t forgotten how it felt to dribble it between my legs. It was like driving a stick for me; I could drive automatics for years, but the second I jumped into the driver’s seat of a stick shift, I didn’t miss a beat.

  The court here was beautiful. It sat right beside
the beach with the strip of town opposite it, and there was a skate park that was at the end next to the parking lot. I paused at the three-point line and shot the ball up, the chain clinking, proving I’d sunk it perfectly.

  “Still shoot from your left?”

  I stilled, keeping my back turned to Ryker. I couldn’t face him right now. If he wanted to talk, he’d have to do it without me looking at him.

  “Still a hothead?” I retorted, bouncing the ball a few more times before throwing it back up, this time missing.

  “You need to loosen the wrist a bit more, remember?”

  I grabbed the ball, purposely not looking at him as I made my way back to the three-point line. “You need to tell someone who cares.”

  “Bryleigh,” he sighed. My body quivered at the drop of his tone. Again, I dribbled the ball between my legs before driving it up and shooting it against the backboard, landing it straight down the ring. “I didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t kiss her.”

  “I don’t wanna talk about it, Ryker.” My jaw was beginning to set, my bouncing becoming more forceful. I stood at the three-point line again, clutching the ball in both my hands and crouching slightly, ready to shoot. He stepped in front of me, taking the ball off me and holding it above his head.

  “I didn’t fucking do anything, Bryleigh! She kissed me, and I pushed her away.”

  “It’s not only about that. Give me my ball, Ryker.”

  “What then? Huh? What’s it about?” He kept the ball up and I had thoughts of just kicking him square in the balls, but that wouldn’t be fair. It would be a waste of sperm. This man needed to procreate.

  “I can’t do this with you, not here and not now.” I was trying really hard to ignore the fact he wasn’t wearing a shirt, his beautiful, muscled, tattoo-covered body on display for the world to see. All he had on was his baseball cap flipped backward, black sweat shorts, and Nike Air Max 90s. His piercings all glistened in the sun that was beginning to set over the ocean, and the tattoos over his neck pulsed from the frustrated veins underneath.

  “We’re doing this, Bryleigh, because what the fuck were you thinking? Jake Abrahams? What? You move from me to him? You think he’s any better? Fuck me, he’s worse!”

  I walked up to him, squaring my shoulders. “First of all, Jake and I didn’t go further than that video. Second of all, I’m not moving from you to him, because I never had you to begin with. And third of all,” I said, shoving at his chest, “no one is worse than you. You’re not only a fucker, but you’re a whore.” I spun around and power-walked toward the parking lot, only for arms to wrap around my stomach from behind and lift me off the ground. “Put me down, Ryker!”

  “No.” He let out an exasperated groan.

  “Why? Why are you doing this?” I demanded angrily.

  He flipped me and slung me over his shoulder effortlessly, as if I weighed nothing. “Because I fucking love you, Bryleigh, and I ain’t letting you go—ever.”

  He placed me into the passenger seat of his car before getting into the driver’s side and handing me my ball.

  “What about my car?” I griped, pointing to my Audi R8. “It will get stolen.”

  “Let them steal it. That piece of shit reminds me of Todd. I’ll buy you a new one.”

  I sagged into the seat and pulled my belt on. “Ryker, I can’t do this with you. It wasn’t just the Russian model.”

  He pushed it into reverse, pulling out onto the main strip. “What then?” he asked, looking at me every couple of seconds. “What is it you want from me? I’d do any fucking thing.”

  “Anything?” I asked, watching him pause, thinking over what he just said. He let out a defeated sigh. “Yes, anything.”

  “Time, Ryker. I need time.”

  “How much time?” he asked, pulling onto Indie’s street.

  “I just need time to be alone. I don’t want to give you false hope. There’s the fame thing too. I don’t know if I have it in me to do it.” The car halted in front of Phoebe’s car. He pulled up the emergency break and turned in his seat to face me. Ripping off his cap, he ran his hands through his hair, ruffling it up before placing his cap back on.

  “How much time?”

  I pulled my eyes away from him. “I don’t know. Until I’m ready, I guess.”

  “That could be fucking years, Bry.”

  “I can’t do this with you.”

  “Why? Why is it that now, when I need you the most, you don’t want me? I don’t want anyone else, Bryleigh. Fuck!”

  My heart broke into a million pieces, my throat began to ache, and all I wanted to do was crawl onto his lap and make him feel better. Make us both feel good together, the best way we knew how.

  I wiped the tear that dropped over my cheek quickly. “I’ll always be your girl, Ryker.” Another tear escaped, and I swiped that one as well.

  “Promise me.” His voice was strained.

  “Promise you what?”

  “Promise me that you’ll always be mine.”

  I smiled at him, his eyes glassing over, and I was a second from saying fuck it. But if I wanted this thing between Ryker and me to last, I needed space.

  “I promise. I need us to not only last for the now; I need us to last for the forever. You mean that much to me, Ryker. We owe it to ourselves to give it one-hundred percent. Give me time.”

  “Rules, Bryleigh. We need rules.”

  “No one else. I know your rule and same goes for you.”

  He let out a sarcastic laugh. “You really have nothing to worry about there.”

  I smiled, leaning over the console, and his face moved toward mine, my lips pressing lightly against his as my hand wrapped around his neck. This kiss wasn’t hard or fired by lust. This was a kiss of heartbreak, a kiss not of goodbye, but a see you later. He groaned against my lips and I pulled back, scanning his eyes. “Before you open your mouth and say something to ruin this moment,” I began with a light smile. His eyes dropped to a haze. “I love you too.”

  He groaned again, this time wrapping his arm around my back and pulling me onto his lap. I separated my legs, resting down into him. If I wasn’t so short, this would be impossible. My hands slipped behind his neck again as my tongue slid into his mouth. His hands wrapped around my hips, pressing my crotch into his bulge, and I dropped my hands down his bare chest, his muscle’s molding under the palm of my hands.

  The kiss began to intensify, and the ache between my thighs started to throb, begging with need. I swung my head back, giving him access to my neck as he ran his tongue across my jawline before dragging it down past my collarbone. One of his hands left my hip before ducking under my gym top and running over my flat tummy. I gripped onto the end of my top and ripped it off before yanking his hat off and flinging it onto the passenger seat beside my shirt.

  “You wanna do this?” he asked, his hair falling everywhere and his eyes darkening with lust. My stomach flipped with butterflies and my pussy demanded his attention.

  “Yes,” I said simply, and his lips came to mine, his grip around my hip loosening as his arm wrapped around my waist. I began to grind against his length when a small moan left my lips. Tugging onto the waistband of his shorts, I pulled them down, and his hands came up to my sports bra before he yanked it off. In one quick movement, I slipped my shorts off before quickly going back to straddling him, only this time, I took his dick inside me slowly, giving me opportunity to stretch to accommodate him.

  I lifted, pulling him with me before sliding down his shaft again. His head tilted back onto the headrest, a soft groan leaving his lips and his eyes boring into mine. Drawing his eyebrows together, his hand and fingers ran over my breast, rubbing my nub between his fingers, and I moaned, grinding on top of him. Each time the tip of his helmet hit my spot perfectly, the spot that lay deeper inside me, the spot Ryker had always been able to hit effortlessly, it sent me into a spiral toward oblivion. I pushed my chest up against his, the loud sound of our bodies beaded with sweat rubbing against e
ach other, and my thighs began to tighten. With my core clenching, I knew I was only a minute away from exploding. “Ryker,” I moaned into his ear, and his hands ran over my ass as he guided my ride.

  “Come for me, baby. This, this is mine. Say it.”

  I gripped onto his face with my hands, bringing his lips to mine.

  “Say it, Bryleigh,” he urged over my lips.

  Our kisses were rushed and needy as his pace picked up, pushing into me hard.

  “I’m yours.”

  He groaned, dropping his mouth down over my nipple, sucking it into his mouth at the exact moment his dick slammed up against my spot. My legs quivered, and my clit pulsed with its release as I moaned loudly into his ear. His pace picked up rapidly until he was spilling inside of me, his pulsating dick pressing against my walls. I slacked in his arms, catching my breath.

  “Shit,” I whispered, about to swing my leg off him. His hands shot down to my thighs, holding me there.

  “This,” he said, his head gesturing down my body, “is the only place you need to be riding on, understood? I don’t give a fuck what time of the day it is.”

  “Ryker,” I answered, shaking my head and swinging my leg off him. “Same goes for you, by the way.” I pulled on my underwear and shorts along with my tank top. He pulled his shorts on, smirking at me.

  “No one gets my dick hard like you do. He won’t perform for anyone else now that he’s been reconnected with you. That, I’m sure of.”

  “I cock-blocked your cock?”

  He laughed, reaching over for my hand and bringing it up to his mouth. “You cock-blocked my cock.” He smiled against the palm of my hand, his dimples popping out, and I was ready to jump on and go for round two.

  The next day, I went to visit the hospital to let my boss know I wouldn’t be coming back. He was disappointed, but had seen all the drama on the news and tabloids so didn’t press the issue, which I appreciated. I hadn’t heard from Ryker since our night in his car, and I noticed that everywhere I went, there were paparazzi. I’m not sure if my staying away from him really helped my situation at all.