GRIND

by MEGAN MATTHEWS

  I chuckle. “Obviously.”

  Another one of his little prayers goes up to the ceiling while he shakes his head. “Fine, but I’ve never told anyone this. I’m trusting you with my deepest darkest secret."

  “Uh-huh. Out with it, soccer boy.”

  “Give me sympathy, woman. It was traumatic. The seniors took the new recruits out to the field and handcuffed us to a goal while a stripper…entertained us.”

  “Yes, I totally see how a stripper would be a horrific experience for a young college kid.” I roll my eyes with disbelief and toss the pair of handcuffs at him.

  Ryland catches them with one hand and laughs. “Trust me. I’m scarred for life.”

  “Did you sleep with the stripper?” Yeah the jealous side is winning out over kinky now.

  “God no.” He chokes, a hand going to his mouth as he coughs into it a few times causing him to bend over. He’s either dying or laughing. I'll wait to see which wins out. “It was a male stripper.”

  Now it’s my turn for my mouth to hang open in shock. The erotic night time striptease I envisioned transforms into a different image. “Wow.”

  “Of course if you’re interested, I vote we use them to make better memories.”

  I bet he thinks I’ll say no. Even after steady dating for weeks, he knows so little about my competitive personality. “I didn’t see a key."

  “No key. They’re still trick cuffs, just harder for the person in them to get out.” He holds the handcuff up to the light and pulls on the side and the cuff pops open with a cling.

  Ryland’s eyes scan the room and stop at me, a sly grin forming. “Come with me, Kitten.”

  “Where?” I sound more nervous than I am as excitement starts to build at what he’s planned in the last few seconds. We haven't been strictly bed people when it comes to our recent sex life, but watching him walk out with the handcuffs causes a case of butterflies to form. Since having the safe sex and birth control talk where we decided to stop using condoms, Ryland’s gotten more creative with his locations each time. It's exciting and a bit scary as I anticipate what he has planned this time.

  He walks out of the bedroom and I follow him through the living room and into the little hallway to the elevator. He pushes the call button and we wait.

  “We’re not leaving, are we?” Now it is nerves.

  His arm wraps around my midsection and he pulls me close sweeping me up in a long kiss. The elevator door opens, but we don’t move. Ryland reaches a hand out to stop the doors when they begin to close.

  When we pull away he motions toward the open elevator. “In.”

  “The elevator?” I step inside, my stomach tight in anticipation and worry. “We’re not leaving, right?” I ask again since he never answered my first question.

  Ryland follows me on the elevator and the doors close behind him. “Nope.” He pulls on the red stop lever to keep the elevator from moving. The doors open again and I’m more confused. "Turn around, Marissa.” I turn and face the wall. “Grab on to the railing and bend over.”

  He stands beside me and I look up to meet Ryland’s eyes, my new position making me even shorter. I expect to find passion, but it’s a predatory stare he locks on my fingers wrapped around the steel bar of the elevator.

  Hard cool metal touches my skin as Ryland drags the pair of handcuffs from the top of my shoulder down to my wrists. His lips follow the same trail and he places kisses until he reaches my elbow and it’s too far to bend over. My knees go a little weak and I’m glad I didn't try on the heels with the dress.

  Two clicks blanket the elevator as Ryland opens the cuffs wrapping the chain under the elevator rail and then attaching one to each of my wrists. So we’re doing this in the elevator then.

  My body tenses as Ryland stands behind me in a position I can’t see from my side view. His hands wrap around my ankles lightly as he slowly rubs his fingers up my legs raising my dress with them. I want a better angle, but his hand won’t let me up when I try to stand. The material reaches my waist, but he continues higher. His flat palms are rough against my back as he exposes more and more skin.

  Light blue fabric hinders my vision as Ryland pulls the dress over my head allowing it to fall down my arms and pool around my cuffed hands.

  I wiggle my arms to move the material as far down as possible, but can’t get it off while cuffed to the rail. “You didn’t think this through did you?" I grin down to the floor.

  Smack. The sound of his hand hitting my covered ass cheek echoes through the small metal walls of the elevator. He immediately begins to rub the area smoothing my tingling skin until I push my backside closer to him asking for another.

  His back arches over mine as Ryland leans against my ear. His breath blows a few strands of hair out of the way and he nibbles on a lobe tugging every so often. The thin material of his basketball shorts don’t impede the feel of him as he rubs his rock hard cock against my cheeks.

  When he stands he trails the tips of his fingers down my back stopping to release my bra and push it over my shoulders to have it get caught on the pile of dress around the handcuffs.

  “Damn it.” He voices his frustration at my growing mound of clothes and I laugh until another smack resounds in the open elevator and I jump a little. The spot where he hit stings until he caresses the area with firm rubs grabbing my ass and pulling me toward him until I'm forced to take a step back.

  A cool breeze blows through the elevator door and I shiver without Ryland’s body covering mine. I’m coiled tightly waiting for his next strike with anticipation.

  It never comes. Instead both his hands form around my hips until he slowly pulls my underwear down my legs, more fingers trailing across the exposed skin. When they reach my ankles, he pushes my legs apart helping me step out of the material.

  My head lowers until it’s resting on the metal railing between both cuffed hands finally giving me a slight view between my legs. Ryland rests on his knees. I can’t see his head because it must be perfectly aligned with my ass. The shiny material of his grey shorts tents out from his erection and he reaches out with a hand to fist it twice with hard jerky movements. I clench. The entire scene is so hot I might start begging him to hurry up and fuck me. But that would be very anti-Marissa.

  Still with a hand on himself, the other disappears behind me until it reaches between my legs. There’s pressure on my clit as he draws the finger across my slit slipping inside for one tantalizing second.

  “Fuck, Kitten, you’re soaked. Are you sure you want to do this?”

  “Yes.” I hiss out the word and almost stomp a foot in agitation. He’s lucky my hands are stuck.

  He lets go of his dick and I pray he’ll stand up and get this show on the road. Rather than stand, Ryland adjusts his knees closer to me and both hands grab on to my butt, spreading my cheeks. A flat tongue starts at my clit and runs the length of my crease.

  “Holy shit, Ryland.” I push myself closer to his face as his tongue enters me flicking backward.

  The bastard pulls away and chuckles. “You always taste fucking amazing. Touch yourself, Kitten.” He laughs again, but with a lilt of amusement laced with it. “Oh right, you can't.”

  I start to object, but my words die when his whole mouth covers me, sucking as his tongue makes circles over my lips and pussy. My legs start to shake the more powerful his strokes become until I’m not sure if I’m holding myself up or if Ryland's doing the work for me. Pressure builds in my core, tightening my entire body as I grip the rail for more support. He sucks and I lose control, my orgasm pulsing through my body as I ride out the waves. Fuck.

  I use the rail to rest my head as I gain control over my limbs. Ryland doesn’t give me much time before he’s positioned behind me. His cock slips inside as both hands grab on to my hips. He pulls me back each time he thrusts inside until we're two bodies in a rhythmic dance and another orgasm begins to build.

  “Oh shit. Don’t stop, Ry. Harder.”

  He complies unti
l I’m forced to push myself out from the railing to stop my head from hitting the elevator wall. He’s so deep and with every thrust I tighten more. His fingers rub circles around my clit and when I can’t get any higher, my second orgasm hits. I scream into the pile of blue material bunched on the rail.

  Ryland’s moves become jerky until in one final burst of energy, he pulls me against him hard and stills. I use the break to catch my breath, not moving until he’s forced to pull out when he reaches over to search through the clothes and unlatch the handcuffs.

  Once free I let go of the rail, my fingers pulsing as blood flow returns. I start to sink to my knees, but he pulls me back and we sit on the floor together with me between his legs and my back to his front. Ryland rests against the wall and I hope he’s comfy because I have no plans to move any time soon. I never want to leave this position. I feel safe and secure in his arms. Safe, secure, and happy.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  The wooden surface of Simone’s desk in the Raven Digital Arts lobby glistens from the overhead lights. The team Finn paid to come and clean in preparation of tonight’s long awaited charity event did their job. Even the floor shines so brightly it’s blinding.

  Ryland pushes the box I’m grabbing dishes from out of his way and leans against Simone’s large receptionist desk. “Everything looks great, Marissa. You did a good job on this event for Clare.”

  Grabbing the box, I pull it back toward me and line up a stack of small paper plates on the last few inches of the desk. “You haven’t gone past the lobby. How do you know?”

  He grabs a few napkins from the box and places them on top of the plates, forcing me to adjust them to the side where they belong. It’s more aesthetically correct. “As your boyfriend, I’m required to compliment you on a job well done.”

  I chuckle once and throw the now empty box under Simone’s desk where no one can see it. “Well, yes, but you should wait to see the job first."

  “Technicalities.” He waves my comment away and wraps an arm around me, tightening until I step to him.

  I’m busy gazing into Ryland’s blue eyes, but I don’t miss the flash of black in the corner of the room. Aspen stops to my side and shakes her head at our little display.

  “Sorry, Ry, I need to steal your girlfriend for a minute. Girls before bros and all that.”

  Ryland’s sultry look turns to a grin and he bends down giving me a hasty kiss. “I’ll play along for now, but when she’s my wife, husbands get first dibs.”

  I laugh and push him away with a hand on his chest until he releases me as Aspen walks to the door separating the lobby from the main office area. Tonight the large office is void of any desks, leaving room for the black covered gaming tables strategically positioned around the open area. There’s Black Jack, Poker, and even an old style roulette wheel for people to lose their money at tonight.

  The door between rooms closes and Aspen pounces. “Wife?” She grabs my left hand staring at an empty ring finger.

  My hand tingles from her grip as I pry it back. “He was kidding, Aspen.”

  “Oh, okay.” Her expression falls. Who would even expect a ring at this point in my relationship with Ryland? Crazy woman. She waves a hand out in front of her. “The room's set. Simone is helping Clare. The food is ready and servers will mingle in the crowd about thirty minutes after the first guests arrive. If anyone shows up.”

  “Don’t stress, Aspen. Grant said this is why they send Trey to formal events, so those people are obligated to come to ours when we host them. He compared it to kids’ birthday parties. No idea how Grant has knowledge on children, but whatever.”

  “Let’s hope.” Aspen fiddles with a piece of her curly hair and paces in a small circle.

  “Relax. This will be awesome. Thanks for taking over more than half of this project.”

  “Nonsense. Once Finn agreed to the space, which I knew he would, the rental company organized pretty much everything else. Simone sent out the invites while at work. We had a group effort.”

  “Remind me to thank her too. After tonight we deserve something special.”

  Aspen laughs. “Simone might need something extra special. I guess when Trey announced they had to pick up and move desks to make space, Melvin had a fit. He argued that his desk placement was optimized for maximum earthquake safety. He’s Simone's favorite employee.”

  “He sounds like a real nut job.”

  “Simone had to mark the location of his desk legs before he agreed.” She points to the floor on our right where four small squares are marked out with masking tape.

  The night rolls on and people fill the front lobby before making their way to the back room for gambling. Aspen’s earlier concerns about no one showing up were unnecessary, thank God. The lobby, a little less bright now after so many feet walked over it, is full of people as they stand in small groups chatting with one another.

  A significant portion of invitees made it through the door to the other room where I hope they’re spending enough money Clare won’t need to worry about the youth center’s budget for at least another year.

  A waiter in a cute little black and white tux stops to offer me the tray with champagne flutes on it, and I grab one. Drinking might not be the best idea, but one glass won’t hurt. It can’t be any worse than the plate of crab cakes I'm carrying around in my other hand. Although, if both my hands are full, how will I eat? I did not think this through. Why is Ryland never around when I need him to hold food for me?

  “There should be a silent auction. Next time let’s do one and I’ll bid on useless crap I’ll never use.” Grant slides up next to me, his eyes on my plate.

  One thing I’ve learned about Ryland’s best friend Grant is it’s pointless to fight it. I move the small plate of crab cakes closer to him in approval for him to eat my food. He’d do it anyway. “A silent auction would be great. Next time you can plan it.”

  He grabs three crab cakes off my plate sticking one in his mouth. “Hey, don’t take them all. Put one back.” I push the plate at him, but he pulls his crab filled hand back.

  “But, Marissa, I touched it.”

  “Put it back, Grant.” I nudge the plate closer a few times until he places the third crab cake back on it. The man has a problem with eating other people’s food. It's not safe to keep anything edible in a ten-foot radius of him.

  “Where’s your man?” He grabs the flute of champagne from me and takes a sip while I roll my eyes, but I use the free hand to eat my own crab cake.

  “He’s losing money at the roulette wheel. Something about his luck turning any minute.”

  He passes the flute back more than half empty. “Great. Now that our idle chit chat is out of the way, here’s my real question.” My ears perk up. "Who’s the red haired girl in the green dress who walked down with Simone?”

  “Clare?” I can’t think of another red haired person who Simone could have attached herself to, but she doesn’t seem Grant’s type.

  “If I knew her name I wouldn’t ask you, Marissa.” Grant takes another bite of his crab cake and he’s lucky he stuffed his mouth before more attitude came out of it.

  I pop a hip. “Leave Clare alone. She’s nice and I like her. She’s not your type and if you sleep with her and don’t call her the next day, she’ll never hang out with us again.”

  “That wasn’t my plan at all, Marissa. Have a little faith.”

  Really? It wasn’t his plan at all. I bet. “What happened to Natasha?”

  “Who?” he asks taking a bite like the clueless man he is.

  “The girl you were texting the other night at Ryland’s?” Why are men so stupid sometimes?

  He finishes chewing with a large swallow at the end. “Oh Tash… yeah it didn’t work out.”

  I knew it. Grant isn’t a mean guy. He’s not even what I’d call a player, but his ability to forget about women is legendary. Not a single girl lasts more than a week, two tops before he’s decided “it didn’t work out” and moved on
to the hunt for a replacement.

  “Uh-huh. I’m sure it didn’t.” The door to the back office opens and Ryland steps into the lobby heading toward us. “Listen, Grant, don’t sleep with her. Please…for me.”

  Ryland makes it to us and uses an arm to pull me closer. I’d be pissy about his long damn arms if I didn’t love to be in them so much. I want to play with the extra material of his black suit. Maybe slip my hand in the sleeve. I can't help myself. The traditional suit with a black shirt and dark plum tie make him irresistible.

  “Have either of you seen Trey or Simone?” Ryland asks stealing my last crab cake. Men. Seriously.

  We both shake our heads and I stick my trash on one of the small round tables placed around the room.

  “I’ll look around and try to find them.” Grant volunteers his service, but I know where he’s really off to. Wherever Clare is.

  From what I’ve noticed from my time with Clare, she knows how to take care of herself. I only hope she’ll be able to stand up against Grant’s charms. If he does sleep with her and she goes Grant crazy, our weekly chats are bound to become awkward.

  “Are you two fighting?” Ryland watches Grant leave the room with a speculative look.

  “Don’t ask.” I consider telling Ryland about the Clare thing, but then I realize Grant technically never made me the promise.

  Ryland pulls at the plum tie wrapped around his neck. “How much longer is this thing?”

  I sneak a quick glance at the huge clock on the wall behind us since he’s apparently become incapable. “A while. What’s wrong? Did you lose your money already?"

  He chuckles. “No, Kitten. In fact, I made a new plan. I’m giving you my chips and letting you win for me.”

  “You know you’ve already given them your money, right?” I question his commitment to this need to win.

  “Yes, Marissa. I know how a charity casino works, but I’d still like to say I won tonight.”

  Ah. It’s the competitive side coming out. The same reason he races the car next to us at every stop light.