Burn For You

by Teagan Kade

  I could undo her right here, right now, but I want my cock inside her. I want to feel her come around it.

  I bring myself back under her skirt, rising and ignoring her protests. I take hold of her thick thighs and lift her, let her lock her ankles against my ass as I press her to the wall.

  Held there, mouth agape, she busies herself undoing the buttons of her blouse. With one hand I help her tug it free, sending it the same way as her panties, a simple flick of the fingers all it takes to undo her bra strap.

  She lets it fall away into her lap and there before me are the finest fucking breasts I’ve ever had the pleasure of witnessing, big and soft and begging for my hands. I fill one palm, my thumb padding over the engorged nipple at its center, bringing it to a tight column in my fingers.

  I bring my mouth to it next, suck at the tawny bud until she’s moaning and mewing and saying my name over and over again.

  I undo my own shirt with one hand, growing frustrated with the final two buttons and simply tearing it away instead, the buttons pinging on the floor. I’m eager to press my skin against hers, to feel the milky white of her flesh flatten against me.

  I let her nipple fall from my mouth, bringing my head next to the cove created by her hair next to her neck, speaking in low tones to her ear. “I want you bad, baby.”

  “I want you too,” she moans back, voice husky and flush with sexual hunger.

  “I’m going to fuck you and I’m going to make you come, hard, understand?”

  She nods, mouth open, her chest filling and expanding rapidly. I can almost feel her heartbeat, the steady pulse, pulse, pulse of it through her skin.

  She places her arms around my neck, bringing her mouth to mine again, her tongue exploring within.

  It’s time. Any longer and my cock’s going to explode.

  I reach between us and undo my belt buckle, popping the button on my jeans and pushing them down together with my boxers until they’re mid-thigh. My cock bounces between us, brushes against her open sex before it finally finds what it’s looking for.

  I kiss her harder as I drive upwards, filling her completely, pushing her high on the wall.

  Her moaning is caught against my lips, trapped there while I draw back and thrust in again, her pussy tight and wet and welcome, perfect in every way.

  Her lips break away long enough for her head to fall against my shoulder. “You’re making me so wet,” she tells me, panting from the effort.

  It’s true. I thrust again into her, thighs squeezing tight around my ribs, levering against me for maximum depth.

  I lift her from the wall and make my way through the house, can’t seem to stop kissing her, jaw shifting wider for more and more but knowing it will never be enough.

  I enter the master bedroom and let us both fall onto the bed, climbing over her and finding her hole again, driving until my balls tickle the upturned globe of her ass. I screw down there, let her fingers claw at the sheets around us while she grunts and moans, lifting and falling against the bed.

  I fuck her harder, the entire bed shifting against the floorboards, the headboard rattling but only the sweet sounds of her pleasure meeting my ears.

  Because this is all I’ve ever wanted. I could close that door and live in her forever, inside her, making her mine over and over again. It would never get old.

  “You’re going to make me come,” she whispers, and I can’t tell if it’s a warning or an invitation.

  I drop and cradle her under me, my cock filling her inch by inch.

  My balls tighten and I know I’m not far away.

  “Yes,” she moans. “Yes. Yes. Yes.”

  I take hold of a breast and lift myself up, hammering away between her legs faster and faster, her voice rising until I know she’s about to spill over.

  “Yes!” she screams, and I feel it, the quick convulsions of her pussy, the tug and pull of it against my cock.

  It’s too much to bear. I stiffen and explode inside her, don’t know how long our mutual orgasm goes on for, only that time seems to stand still and fracture. Everything’s a blur, a blissful clash of sight, sound and sensation.

  I give a final jerk and slide to the side of her, one arm across her chest.

  Her breathing’s haggard and erratic. She’s struggling to get it under control. I don’t blame her. I can barely breathe myself.

  My cock gives a final, satisfying twitch against the side of her thigh.

  “Well,” she stammers, staring up at the ceiling. “I don’t think I have words.”

  “It was…” I agree, unable to find them myself.

  Truly, I don’t know the last time I came that hard or became so swept up in the moment. If this was any other girl I’d already be spiraling down into post-sex depression, dreaming up ways to get them out of the house.

  But it’s different with Ruby. All I want to do is hold her and pull her tight against me, to go again as soon as my cock cooperates. The way she reaches down between us, lightly tugging at it, I can tell we’re on the same wavelength.

  “I’m afraid you’re going to have to give me a bit of time,” I laugh.

  “I’ve got all the time in the world,” she purrs.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  RUBY

  “Why hello, good-looking.”

  Ryder enters the kitchen in his boxers, sniffing at the air. “My god, whatever you’re cooking smells amazing.”

  He stops when he sees the only thing I’m wearing is an apron, dipping down for an eyeful of my ass. “And the view’s even better.”

  His hands snake around me from behind, light brush of stubble against my cheek.

  I flip over the rosti I’m cooking. “Thought I’d better earn my keep here.”

  He laughs at that, the sound of it reverberating through my collarbone. “Trust me, you definitely earned your keep last night.”

  I switch the stove element off, spin to face him with spatula in hand. “Was that your intention all along? Woo me, make me fall for you, and then bring me home to become your personal sex slave?”

  “Perhaps,” he smiles.

  I breathe him in, pressing myself against his hardness. “I wouldn’t be completely opposed to the idea.”

  I shove him away, turning back to face the stove. “Anyhow, time to eat.”

  He takes a handful of my ass. “Damn right.”

  I swat behind myself with the spatula, catching him on the wrist. “That’s enough, you. Go take a seat while I dish…”

  I stop, the spatula falling from my hand.

  I sink to the floor, holding myself there with a hand against the linoleum while the world spins.

  “…Up,” I finish, my head reeling.

  Ryder gets down onto the floor, holding my face in his hands, checking me over. “Ruby. Ruby!” he shouts. “What’s wrong?”

  I meet his eyes, try to make sense of the sudden avalanche of information that’s just spilled into my head. “I remember,” I tell him. “I remember who I am.”

  He says nothing for a moment, before helping me into a chair, crouching before me with his hands on my knees. “Take your time. You sure you’re okay?”

  “I am a cook, a chef,” I correct, “was working in the city as a sous chef, place called the Cathouse.”

  “The Cathouse?”

  “Yeah, our signature dish is a free-range chicken, hazelnut emulsion. The address is 45 Spring Street.” It’s coming so fast, detail after detail.

  “I grew up in Connecticut, broke my arm jumping off the roof when I was nine. I’m a Libra, like nineties rom coms and sleeping under the stars. I moved here a year ago, changed my name…”

  The information torrent comes grinding to a halt.

  Ryder sees the confusion on my face. “You good?”

  “I can’t…” I reach for the reason. Why? I ask myself Why did you move here? But there’s a section of my life that’s been blanked out, erased. I remember cooking school, my internship in Chicago, but after that… “What’s happeni
ng to me?”

  Ryder pulls me into a tight embrace. “It’s all good,” he soothes, rubbing my back. “It will all come back, but this a positive sign, right? It’s a real good sign.”

  I suppose it is, as annoying as the blank period is. “Yeah,” I tell myself, speaking aloud, “I guess it is.”

  Ryder stands, hovering over the stove. “You just sit there and relax. I’ll dish up. You can tell me everything you remember after that, ’cause I sure as hell don’t want this feast you’ve cooked up to go to waste.”

  “Okay,” I tell him, shaking in the chair and starting to feel ninety percent more like myself.

  But it’s that missing ten that worries me.

  God only knows what’s hiding in there.

  CHAPTER NINE

  RYDER

  I watch as Ruby’s eyes open, a split second of fear before they find me, her face settling. I pull her towards me in the bed, my morning glory of an erection completely obvious, not that she seems to mind.

  We spent yesterday writing down what she remembered, going through it before well, moving onto other, more pleasurable activities…

  She tucks her leg between mine, hands roaming over my chest. The vintage Metallica shirt she’s wearing is picture perfect. “This is the right way to wake up. No beeping machines, no announcements or nurses checking on you all hours of the night.” She seems to remember what she told me last night. “It’s strange. I know who I am, but it’s almost like there’s still a piece missing, something I can’t crystallize in my head.”

  “Maybe the millions in gold bullion you’re hiding in the Cayman Islands?”

  She laughs. “I wish. Pretty sure I was living paycheck to paycheck.”

  “And you don’t remember anything about the fire, maybe what led up to it?” I don’t want to push her too hard, but I’m curious nonetheless, especially after what Carlos told me over the phone yesterday: PD got back to him. The fire was arson.

  Ruby’s eyes search for an answer she cannot find. “One second I was in the kitchen making a bechamel and the next I’m waking up to you, in the hospital.”

  I smile with reassurance. “And trust me, I’m glad you did.”

  Her hands slide down my chest, her back arching as she reaches to find my cock, slowly pumping it. “Hmm, how could I show my appreciation? I wonder…”

  I take hold of her ass and flip her over on top of me. She yelps with delight, grinding down onto my dick, the hot crotch of her panties pressing against the sensitive shaft of my cock.

  My hands glide under her shirt, her soft breasts filling my hands.

  She moans with approval, reaching between her legs to pull her panties aside, fishing for my cock and placing it against her. She sinks down on it with a long exhale.

  I join her, breathing out and letting my hands fall to her thighs. “Yep, that’ll do it.”

  *

  Thoroughly sexed out, showered and clean, I finish up another excellent breakfast. “The girl of my dreams and a professional chef. I mean, I’ve really hit the jackpot here, haven’t I? You sure there’s not a skeleton in that cute closet of yours I need to know about?”

  She places the frying pan in the sink. “Not that I know about, but I would like to find out more today, if I can.”

  I fold my arms together on the countertop. “Sure thing. We’ll hit up all the government agencies today, see if we can get your social security number, talk to your employer. You’ll be back to normal before you know it.”

  “With you.”

  “With me,” I nod, “completely safe, not a care in the world.”

  She smiles before turning to the fridge. She pulls the door open and bends down from the waist, her ass rounded out and looking so ripe I feel like a fucking criminal just looking at it.

  “Looks like we’re out of milk.”

  I stand. “No problem. I’ll head out, pick up some stuff for lunch.”

  She closes the fridge door, spinning to face me. “You won’t be long?”

  “Ten minutes, tops. You can come with, if you like?”

  She thinks on it. “No, I’ll be okay. Might snoop around a bit more, see if I can find your skeletons.”

  I laugh. “All you’re going to find in my closet are grungy clothes and a set of rollerblades I haven’t worn since ’99.” I grab my keys. “I’ll be back,” I add, stopping by her for a quick kiss before I’m out of there.

  I walk around the supermarket smiling, finally smiling because I know I’ve found my missing puzzle piece. I’ve got something to beam about and it’s more beautiful, more engaging and inherently special than anything I could have imagined. There are no post-sex regrets, no wondering where I’m going to get my next fix, because Ruby is it. She’s my everything.

  I finish up and head home, still wearing that stupid happy-go-lucky grin as I come to the top of the stairs… and notice the door ajar, but it’s not just ajar.

  Someone’s kicked it in.

  Fuck.

  I place the groceries down carefully, consider calling the cops, but I’m more concerned about what might be happening inside.

  A scream from the back of the house is all it takes to kick me into gear.

  I run inside, making a hard left and spotting Ruby on the floor, backed up against the kitchen cabinets. I don’t know what the hell she’s doing, but that’s soon wiped away when someone steps into view, standing over her, long hunting knife in hand.

  I calm myself, use my training to stick to the shadows of the hallway and tread quietly.

  It’s a male, tall. “If I can’t have you,” he says. “No one will.”

  He starts to raise the knife and Ruby screams again. I’m still ten feet away.

  Fuck this.

  I make my move, rushing up behind him and going for the hand with the knife first, twisting it hard until the knife clatters to the floor. I bring my arm around his neck and drop him to the ground, my knee digging hard into his back. He struggles, but I’m stronger.

  I take out my cell and slide it across to Ruby. “Call 911.”

  She picks up the cell with shaking hands and dials.

  *

  I watch from the porch as the perp is pressed into the back of a patrol car, the detectives finishing up with Ruby.

  I head over to her, sit on the steps and tug the blanket tighter around her shoulders.

  She wipes her cheek. “I remember now.”

  “He was stalking you?”

  She nods. “He was a customer at my restaurant, the one I owned in Chicago. He wouldn’t take no for an answer. A restraining order did nothing. I had to change my name, move to the other side of the country. Start my entire life again from scratch.”

  At least that solves the freeway incident, I think. I pull her tight against the crook of my neck. “He’s gone now. He can’t hurt you anymore. If by some miracle he appears again, I’ll fucking kill him.”

  I rub her shoulders. “Come on. Let’s get you inside.”

  She kisses my cheek. “Thank you,” she says, a fresh tear slipping down her cheek. “Thank you,” she repeats, “for everything.”

  EPILOGUE

  ONE YEAR LATER

  RUBY

  I stare at the sparkling ring of my finger, my thumb passing over the large diamond at its center. I can’t believe it’s been a year since we got married already.

  “Stare at that thing too long and you’re going to turn into a diamond,” Ryder jokes, the front door closing behind him.

  “My precious,” I purr, because yes, I’ve got all my memories back, baby, pop culture included.

  Ryder leans down over me, kisses me on the lips before shifting to my rising baby bump. I’m reclined on the sofa watching Friends reruns and getting oddly emotional about it all. I’m hardly runway material in sweatpants and tank, but Ryder doesn’t seem to mind. He’s become especially frisky ever since I started to show.

  He lifts my legs and seats himself on the sofa, placing them back into position, his heavy, prot
ective hand on the growing life inside me. I don’t think I’ll ever get sick of seeing him in uniform.

  “How’s my favorite son-slash-daughter coming along?” he asks.

  I bring my hand on top of his. “Needs a little more time in the oven, I’m afraid. How was work?”

  “You know, damsels to be saved, random bystanders swooning at my feet.”

  I roll my eyes. “Perhaps fatherhood will make you a bit more modest.”

  “Unlikely,” he smiles, “but don’t worry. I’ve only got eyes for one girl,” looking down at my bump, “maybe two.”

  “You think it’s a girl?”

  “Fifty-fifty chance.”

  “And if it is? What are you going to do when she starts bringing boys around?”

  “Buy a shotgun, of course.”

  I have no doubt Ryder will be an incredible father. He’s the perfect man—strong and confident, but also gentle and considerate. He’s that beautiful one-in-a-million oxymoron.

  And he’s all mine.

  Ryder’s hand starts to slide off my belly, fingers creeping under the waistband of my sweats. “You know what I’d love after a long, hard week of saving the world?”

  “Mmmm,” I moan, more than ready for a pre-dinner aperitif.

  The front door opens again.

  The hell?

  “Anybody home?”

  We both turn to find Carlos stumbling in.

  Ryder’s hand whips back into position on my belly. He huffs. “Carlos, to what do we owe this pleasure?”

  Carlos nods to me. “Ruby,” eyes dropping, “mystery child. How we all doing?”

  “Fine,” I reply cautiously.

  “Oh,” he says, finally remembering why he’s here, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a cell, placing it on the table. “You left it in the truck, man.”

  Carlos’s attention moves to a stack of papers on the table. He lifts them up, leafing through them. “And what do we have here?”

  “Just some ideas for a restaurant I thought I’d doodle down,” I reply, very conscious of the rock-hard cock under my leg, wishing Carlos would evaporate so Ryder and I could get down to business.

  “Ruby’s money finally came through,” Ryder adds. “The bank finally released it.”