Want (Ryder Brothers Book 2)

by Kayti McGee

  “Was it what you imagined?”

  “No.” I wait for his face to fall before adding on. “Like a zillion times better. Sex is better than barbecue. Not even the terrible kind they make in Texas, the good kind they make in Kansas City. Better than jazz. It was better than pink shit maybe even. But you should still feel free to grade me with your red pen, if I need some pointers or whatever, so go ahead and critique me.”

  “What? No. You’re a natural.” He runs his hand along my arm. “So warm and soft. I’m turning myself on again just feeling you. Your grade is an A+, kid.”

  Phew. If I’d been the only one thinking that was amazing, it would have been rather embarrassing. Or, like, a lot embarrassing.

  “But do you think I should be louder or move more?” I ask. “I always want the best part right now so I feel like I chased a few orgasms before you were ready and is that bad protocol do you think?” He covers my mouth with his instead of telling me to shut up but I’m growing wise to his tricks.

  I guess it was okay for him too, then.

  I just wish I knew how to make this something as special for him as it is for me.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jake

  While everyone is out getting lunch, I text Marlee from the studio the next day.

  How are you? Sore?

  I watch my phone for the reply and get hard again thinking of last night. For the twentieth time, it feels like. I wonder how she’s feeling, what she’s doing.

  Whether she’s thinking about me.

  It’s a big day in the studio—even Nick is here—but I’m already eager to leave.

  I have her voice in my head like some kind of pop song. Visions of her keep coming back to me at the most inopportune times. I swear the only reason I’ve made it through so far is because I can hear Marlee’s vocal layer playing behind the track we’re mastering all day.

  Not that hearing it makes me any less desperate to be home and in bed with her again.

  When I see her text come back in, none of my questions are answered.

  I’m ok! is all it says, with a couple of smile emojis. Though it isn’t what I needed to hear, I’m also familiar enough with her texts to know there isn’t a hidden message in here. When Marlee’s upset or annoyed or hurting, she tells me with a full range of emojis.

  It’s a good idea for another lesson, though, because sexting is a skill I’m happy to help her polish. Besides, maybe she’ll want to keep on doing it, even after… God, I’m pathetic. But I’m also an optimist. Maybe it evens out.

  Lesson of the day, grasshopper. When a man asks if you’re sore, tell him yes and why.

  I’m still waiting for her reply when Nick, my producer Greg, and Boomer walk back in, talking and laughing and shaking ice around in to-go cups. Nick is always good at balancing work and play and is usually friends with everyone he works with. Sometimes I get so serious and focused that I forget I can have fun with them too.

  I know that’s the sort of thing that makes my brother roll his eyes and call me boring, but he has no idea how much fun I’ve been having with my roommate.

  And there’s no way Boomer’s sexting me, so I’ll save my fun for her.

  “Ready to get back to it?” Nick asks and I nod just as my phone chimes. The three of them turn toward the sound board as I turn back towards the little piece of metal and wire that connects me to the girl I left in my bed this morning.

  I’m sore. Your cock made me sore. Eggplant emoji. That makes me laugh.

  Why?

  Because it was so big. You were so thick and long I don’t know how you fit.

  You’re so tight, I don’t know how either.

  Because you make me so wet.

  Are you wet right now?

  Yes.

  Touch yourself and tell me how wet you are.

  My underwear is soaked. I’m taking them off.

  Do you have your finger inside?

  Two of them.

  What are you thinking about?

  Your cock in my mouth?

  Is that a question?

  Put your cock in my mouth.

  I’m pushing it into your sweet mouth.

  All the way in, I want to feel it in my throat.

  “Earth to Jake. Hello!” I jump and the phone almost tumbles out of my hands. Now that would be a disaster. Both the thought of it breaking and cutting me off from her, and the idea that someone else might read our discussion about eggplants and embarrass her later. I grab it and text brb before slipping it back into my pocket.

  “Look,” my producer Gregory says. “Go do another take or find someone else to sit around and watch you moon over your phone.”

  “I’m paying you,” I say. He’s been shitty since I booted him and figured out yesterday’s track without his input. “I can take as much time as I want.”

  “Without me you wouldn’t have money to pay with,” Gregory says. “I’m used to your lack of enthusiasm, and I get that it’s your shtick, but if you’d really rather be tweeting, I’m out.”

  “Oh, that’s not what he’s distracted by,” Boomer says.

  “It’s not?” Nick asks. “Did he take up Sudoku, or something equally dull?”

  “Nah. He’s just got a girlfriend,” Boomer announces with all the pride of a gossipy housewife.

  “A girlfriend?” Gregory smiles at me for the first time today. “So you’re sitting here sexting and enjoying your boner while we all work our asses off?”

  “A girlfriend?” Nick asks, bewildered. “But how? You’re such a fuddy-duddy! Is it a stripper? Ohhhhhhhh, wait, I know.”

  “I don’t have a girlfriend,” I say. I’m laughing but I’m frustrated. My business is my business and it’s a fucked-up business that I require zero input on. Particularly the boner part.

  “You are so private, bro. He’s got this roommate and it’s been love since she moved in. You should see how he touches her things.” Nick picks up a water bottle and demonstrates by rubbing it against his cheek.

  I punch him. Now I’m one of the animals in the family, I guess.

  “A nice girl,” he adds as he dodges another. “From Kansas and everything.”

  “Missouri!” I shout frantically, knowing that she’s sensitive about that mistake and also concerned that by defending her I’ve drawn too much attention to it.

  “The woman you brought here? What was her name, Marleen?” my producer asks.

  “Marlee,” Boomer corrects. He has a glittery look in his eye. “She was… talented. Bendy, even.”

  “How do you know that?” I demand. She is not a stripper, so he shouldn’t know.

  “Uh, because she told me and I mean, look at her. Legs for days,” he says, taking a sip of his iced coffee. I entertain a brief fantasy of spiking it with something that will make him shut up, but even if I knew of such a wonder drug, I do sort of need him to work.

  The thing that really sucks is, yeah, I would have hidden a girlfriend from them anyways because I’m not interested in juvenile teasing and other people’s opinions. But this time, every barb goes straight to my heart, knowing that our relationship is strictly based on me teaching her how to be with another man.

  “Sorry, man. That’s not something I should say about your lady. Should I put your, uh, session, from the other day on a disc for you?”

  “What are you talking about?” I ask. My alarm is immediate. That particular session was more private than any eggplant. It was a hundred firework emojis, and if anyone else hears it Marlee will stab me in my sleep. Deservedly.

  “You know,” he says and he gives me a look like don’t make me say it. I will certainly not. Besides, I am certain I deleted the raw file once I added the layer. Did he go through the trash? I allow myself another daydream of lacing Boomer’s coffee with laxatives.

  “I don’t know. I deleted all the components so no one can identify the secret ingredient.” The peach emoji, obviously.

  “You didn’t delete it, you dragged it to the desktop.�
�� No! I’m the biggest idiot of all time. My mouth is open and I can’t tell whether I want to punch him or commit immediate seppuku.

  If he listened to it, if he released it to any magazines… I have to give him a raise. And in the meantime, I should tip him. Keep him happy so he doesn’t get any ideas. My pockets contain two peppermints and a book of matches from Cholla. I use my most threatening posture to shake them onto his soundboard as I make a mental note to hit the ATM later.

  “Calm down, Jake.” Nick said. “You had love on the brain.”

  I ignore my brother and keep my eyes focused on my engineer.

  “I don’t need to tell you that the secret ingredient is private.”

  “I didn’t listen to it,” he says, laughing, but also nervously running his hand over head. “You left it looped and ready. I went to archive this morning and I figured I should check with you before I archived or deleted it. And now is as good a time as any to ask.” He absolutely listened to it, goddamnit.

  “She came to the studio, huh? You really do love her.” Nick says, trying to diffuse the situation like he always does. He wheels his chair over and kicks the back of my leg so I’ll look at him instead. It just pisses me off. How dare he sit there looking so smug about his new gossip when I’ve tried so hard to make sure no one will know that my heart is due to break in just a few weeks.

  “You have no idea what’s going on, brother. Don’t talk about love to me.”

  “Oh, don’t I?” Nick gives me a dangerous smile. “Why don’t you enlighten me then, since I have no idea how hard love is. I’m sure my piece-of-cake relationship has nothing to compare.”

  Maybe I’d feel like talking to him if he didn’t have that smirk on his face. Natalia Lowen was smitten with him from the get-go, and everyone could tell from the second he skipped his favorite dessert to drive her home that they were destined for wedding bells. How on earth would he possibly relate to me and my mess?

  “I really didn’t listen to it,” Boomer intercedes, trying to defuse us now. “I could tell where things were gonna head when I started it and I really don’t need to hear more, if you know what I mean.” Worse and worse.

  “You fooled around in the studio?” Nick laughs. “Oh my god, you are an animal.”

  “I am not.” I want them to shut up. I am not about to tell them how lately I am an animal, except that I go from horny goat in bed with her to kicked puppy when I remember why she came in the first place.

  “Yes you are and by the way you’re acting I can tell you loooooove her.”

  “Dude, cut it out.”

  “You in love, mate?” Greg asks and he’s grinning.

  “Stop,” I say to Nick, because just as he can escalate a situation he can also shut it down faster than anyone I know.

  “Can’t stop. Won’t stop. Jake and Marlee, sitting in a tree!”

  Everyone’s making kissy sounds and its like a really strange annoying dream.

  “Wow, you’re like children,” I say. I’m too weirded out by them at this point to even stay angry. I really do surround myself with crazy people. “Look, don’t worry about what did or did not happen in any kind of tree or studio situation.” I gesture to Greg. “The song needed more oomph and we got it. It’s not a big deal.”

  “I want to hear more about this collaboration,” Nick says. “But can you play the track again with that last bass revision we made instead?”

  Finally. Some return to normalcy.

  “I’d like to hear that too,” Greg says. “I think it might be the last thing we needed. Besides, I’m eager to see if I can identify the secret ingredient now myself.”

  As ready as I was to burn the whole studio down a minute ago, I’m also really proud of how everything is coming along. So I make Boomer show me where the base file is and delete it myself before he swaps out the bass and turns up the volume.

  I listen along with the guys, and even though I can still hear Marlee’s pleasure, I know that to them she’ll sound more like a violin, thanks to the key I adjusted to.

  I can’t believe I was dumb enough to leave it on the computer, but I was so sex-crazed, a fiend even, and Marlee had me so inspired that I just didn’t even think. This is the sort of thing that is no big deal for a regular person, but when you can never be certain what you pay an employee is enough for loyalty, how can anyone be sure they aren’t the next tabloid cover story? This is why I love music and hate shows. This is why I’d like to keep Marlee prepared for the life she’s sprinting headlong into.

  I listen to the song that we collaborated on and watch everyone’s faces, wishing that I could change the mix on my life. That turning a few dials and pressing a button could make it so her running towards that life meant she was also running towards me.

  When the track is over, it’s quiet in the room except for the sound of the chairs creaking around everyone’s bodies. I cross my arms and lean against the wall trying to prepare myself for their feedback. I haven’t really cared what people think for a long time, but then again, I haven’t really cared about a song for a long time either.

  Their teasing energy is gone. Greg and Boomer have their fists pressed to their mouths like twins and Nick is staring at me with a deep meaningful look that I last saw on his face after I gave the eulogy when our uncle died. I’m hoping this one isn’t indicating the death of my career.

  “Damn,” Nick finally says.

  “This is the song,” Greg says. “This is gonna finally get you that Grammy. This is it. Can we get the whole album to do this?”

  Fuck. I’m smiling in a way I don’t like smiling in front of anyone—I can’t tell what my face looks like, I feel out of control, real in the way that I feel real with Marlee. Maybe this is exactly the outlet I needed, the inspiration I’ve been missing. I think—no, I know I can make the rest of the album do what Greg’s talking about.

  He starts laying out a plan to reorganize the whole album around that song, and he’s looking at my track list and ticking off which songs are already close to doing what You has already accomplished.

  I thought I only felt excited to be in the studio the other day because of how focused I was on Marlee, that I was just excited by her but when I go back into the booth I feel excited by the music in a way I haven’t felt in years. I suddenly have a million ideas for the tracks, progressions and hooks that I was not even seeing with each song. My heart is racing as we go through each song and I give ideas for how I want the layering to work.

  Everyone is picking up on the energy and there is legitimate collaboration happening now, the kind that doesn’t need a secret deletion. I’m having this jittery feeling like we won’t get to the idea, the thing that will make it work, in time or fast enough. It’s like how I feel after touching Marlee, that I haven’t actually paid enough attention to some part of her body and then I’m longing for it until I get to put my attention to her mindfully and then my whole world becomes her nipples, the curve of her ribs, her ass. I know the track is right when I feel Marlee in it, when the way it sounds mimics the harmony of our voices coming together.

  During a break Greg clicks into my headphones.

  “What’s Marlee’s last name again? I need to send her flowers.”

  “Reed,” I say. “She likes jasmine.”

  “So you admit it!” Nick says. I haven’t, of course, but I have. And he’s right. I really hate it when that happens. But she just saved my album the way she once saved my video.

  And if I’m being a complete sap, she’s saved more than that. What was I doing before her but just existing? I was goddamn Pleasantville, and she’s my technicolor.

  I do need to admit it, especially to her. It’s pretty clear to me I’m not going to be able to stick to my script as purely her teacher. I don’t want Thurgood to put his hands on her and I don’t want to get in the way of her career. But I can’t keep pretending its okay with me, and that I won’t be wrecked once she cuts it off with me. I can’t autopilot through this like I do everythi
ng else, like I’ve done for such a long time.

  Maybe, just as we became more than the sum of ourselves in bed last night, we can find a greater purpose for her career, too. With talent like hers and connections like mine, maybe Thurgood isn’t as necessary. Besides, she starts rehearsals soon. At that point, tons of people will see her talent, not just him and I. She even found job leads over pink shit at Cholla, for fuck’s sake.

  “I admit it,” I say finally, feeling like a weight has been lifted.

  “Ooooohhhh!” Boomer squeals, looking genuinely delighted. “That makes me happier than a cat down at the China House.” I feel a twinge of guilt about the laxative idea.

  “Animal,” Nick says. Like it doesn’t take one to know one.

  Now I just need to know if she feels like I do.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Marlee

  I can’t believe he left me with a BRB.

  That motherfucker.

  It’s been hours now and I can’t believe that he just got busy and wonder if he’s putting me off, or if I said the wrong thing. Last night was all kinds of amazing and today is all kinds of middling.

  I can’t believe how much I want to be with him, how I hang on his every word. Even the sexy ones. Especially the sexy ones. I love when he asked me how wet I was. Thinking of him touching me with his strong purposeful fingers and how they slipped inside me like he was born knowing what I need. I remember what he taught me. I lay back on my bed and as soon as I start touching myself I feel like he’s touching me. I adjust my pressure just like he did and I even tease myself like he started to, pulling away just as I get close and then starting again.

  I think about the first blowjob I gave him and every moment that I was able to take all of him inside me. Especially now that I really can take all of him into me. I was telling the truth when I texted that I was sore and even though it hurts a little to touch myself, I need the release and I also know that as soon as Jake comes home I’m going to be all over him again.