Текст книги "Hothouse Flower"

Автор книги: Becca Ritchie

Соавторы: Krista Ritchie
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Текущая страница: 17 (всего у книги 29 страниц)

< 33 >

DAISY CALLOWAY

Theory disproven.

One hour after we left John’s and the steak forced its way back up in my throat, knotting my stomach. I even passed on the dessert back at the restaurant, already feeling queasy at that point, but I didn’t want to make a scene. I just mentioned that I was “full” from the sirloin and skipped it.

For Ryke, that must have been the first sign that I was going to be sick. The second, he said was me not moving in the back of the car. I was painfully still.

And then I puked.

On the side of the road thankfully, not in the car.

I’m less upset that Ryke was right, and more bummed that I can’t gorge myself on sweets and savory foods. I hate taking things slow. But my stomach is obviously not made of steel. More like plastic.

Not fun.

Many hours later, my stomach has completely settled, and we’ve crashed at a motel in the mountains, no Hilton or Holiday Inn in sight. Just a quaint little place called Big Cove Motel with yellowed wallpaper, kind of moldy bathroom tiles, but fox-printed quilts that look clean.

We checked into two rooms. One for me and one for them. Lo wanted to be nice by giving me some privacy and alone-time, I guess. I’m not used to being around Lo without Lily, and I think he’s uncomfortable by a lot of things. Me around his brother. Me around three guys and no sisters. Me on the road in a confined space.

But he doesn’t realize how paranoid I get when I’m alone. Even still on pain meds, I was wide awake when Ryke snuck in here at 2 a.m., and his presence just shifted the temperature in the room, lighting me on fire.

And then we kind of went at it.

We’ve been fooling around for the past twenty minutes, all fingers and kisses. He stares down at me, his lips raw. I only wear a shirt, Ryke’s favorite of mine. A baggy one that says: fuck you, you fucking fuck.

My eyes linger on his erection that stirs new feelings in me. It’s hard to wait. Especially since I feel like we’ve been waiting for years, not just a few weeks. If our relationship began normally—not secret from his brother and my sisters and basically everyone—we would have had sex that day in the stairwell. We’re both a little impulsive.

And I wonder if tonight will be the night.

I hope so.

“How big are you?” I already kind of know the answer. His thin pants leave very little to the imagination.

He leans me back against the mattress, and I counter by propping my body on my elbows. He towers above me on his knees, slowly lowering his pants. I sit up again, wanting to be closer to him.

His cock springs out. Fully erect. And I unconsciously file through all the guys I’ve been with, all the dicks I’ve seen, and my heart thuds. He’s bigger than anything that’s been inside of me. And I have a flash of Connor’s porn tape. Oh God.

My brain wants to fry the knowledge, but it’s here to stay. I think they’re around the same size. I only caught a glimpse of Connor, but yeah, it’s kinda weird I know this at all.

I focus on Ryke’s cock though. The one in front of my face, begging for my attention.

Ryke holds my jaw. “You’re going to be insanely fucking wet before I push into you, sweetheart.”

He doesn’t want to hurt me. He cups my heat, and I think he’s going to fuck me with his fingers. “I want to get you off,” I say bluntly. “Or I want to watch you get off. You’ve seen me come twice. It’s only fair that I see you.”

I really want to try and suck him—the challenge really alluring, but I have a feeling he’s been postponing showing me his dick for that very reason. Knowing I’d want to and knowing he may choke me.

He doesn’t say much, not that I expected him to. Ryke is a guy who speaks through his dark eyes. The heavy silence tightens all of me. He takes off his pants, completely naked. I rake his body with my gaze, every single muscle defined and cut hard. He seems unreal. And I’ve been with models.

I tell him in a raspy, needy voice, “I want to fit you all in my mouth.”

“Fuck…” He says the word in a heavy breath, his eyes on my lips. I have good practice in blow jobs, so I know I can pleasure him as well as he has me. I just wish he’d let me try.

And then, suddenly, he rises to his knees, the mattress undulating beneath us. I’m too excited to wait for him, so I scoot off the bed myself and lower to my knees on the carpeted floor.

He gives me a look. “We can do it on the bed, Dais.”

“I know, but I like this way.” I want to be able to look up and see his face. And it’s easier in this position. His eyes grow dark and heady and he sits down on the edge of the bed, his legs hanging over. He reaches out and combs my hair out of my face, and then he holds the back of my head, guiding my mouth to his erection.

I smile before I lick the length of him. His abs sharpen, and I rest a hand on his muscular thigh that flexes beneath my touch.

Right before I take him, he says, “Remember this isn’t a fucking contest.”

I nod with a brighter smile. I open my mouth as wide as I can, and he grips the base of his cock, helping me. He can’t hold back the low groan that leaves his lips.

The deeper he slides along my tongue to the back of my throat, the closer I am to his body. Ryke moves off the bed so he can stand up, and his length immediately deepens into me. I put both hands on his ass and tilt my head back while the last two inches of him remain. I can’t even describe how full of him I am. I wish I had the visual that he does, of his cock around my lips.

“Fuck,” he groans. I reach the base of his shaft, all of him in my mouth. And I look up into his eyes, and he stares down at me, engraining this image. His ass tightens beneath my hands, and I gently ease out of him by an inch. He thrusts forward, easing me back in. We repeat the motion, and the spot between my legs pulses again. Especially as I watch his face break in hot pleasure.

He grabs my hand off his ass and he lowers it as much as he can. “Touch yourself, sweetheart.”

I’ve never been successful touching myself before, but in this position, with him naked right here—in my mouth, I’m already incredibly sensitive everywhere. It doesn’t take much to start a routine that he’s done before, the circular motion and the interchangeable speeds from fast to slow. It immediately heats me up.

I can’t believe I’m going to come for the third time in one night. I never thought this was possible.

I feel like I’m on the brink, and maybe he is too. Right when I think the fireworks are about to explode in my head, I hear the door open from the adjoining room.

And those fireworks transform into sudden hysteria, and I react on impulse.

I pull away at the worst possible moment.

Because as soon my mouth leaves his dick.

He comes.

On my face.

< 34 >

RYKE MEADOWS

What.

The.

Fuck.

I can’t stop looking at her face. Normally, this is something that might turn me on, my cum all over her cheeks, on her lips, even on her eyelids. Fuck, it’d make any guy harder than rock. But not now. Not when Connor Cobalt stands in the room, closing the door as Daisy tries desperately to wipe it from her face.

She uses both of her hands, only making it worse. Her face flushes with embarrassment.

 “Dais…fuck.” I pull up my pants quickly and squat down, ignoring Connor.

Concern floods me immediately. I find my shirt on the ground and use the soft fabric to wipe her face gently, trying to care for her and not make her feel like a fucking porn star.

I can’t believe she pulled away right then. Bad fucking timing.

Connor clears his throat.

“Um…I can explain,” Daisy says.

“There’s really no need,” he says with a tense voice. “I’m well aware of what a blow job is.”

I grimace as Daisy’s cheeks turn redder. Thanks a lot, Cobalt. Way to make this more fucking awkward.

I don’t turn away from her as I say, “What the fuck do you want?” I try to brush her hair out of her face, but it’s useless. Strands are already wet, and they stick to her cheeks. My dick actually threatens to clench and harden but every time I see her eyes, mortified, my fucking arousal returns to reality.

I can’t imagine what’s going through her head.

I clean her as quickly as I can, but we’re both too stunned to move from this spot, not able to rise to wash her off in the bathroom.

“You’re both crazy,” Connor says, his deep blue eyes pinging from me to Daisy. “You needlessly heighten the risk of your relationship every second you do things like this. Talking about sex in the car, screwing one wall away from Lo and me—it’s like you’re begging to be caught. So I’m going to give you both a friendly warning.” He sets his gaze on me. “Tell them before they catch you or tone it down. I could have easily been Lo, and I can promise you, his wrath will be ugly.”

I thought we were being fucking careful, but in the moment, we don’t pay much attention. We’re used to flirting with boundaries, and now that we’ve kicked some over, it’s messing with my fucking head. I know this can’t last forever. Definitely not the year and a half like we planned. But maybe for a few more months at least. We just need some time—especially before we have to deal with all the people who hate the idea of us together.

“And you couldn’t wait until the fucking morning to tell us that?” I growl.

“You were getting loud,” Connor says flatly, not smiling. “You can thank me later.” He looks down at Daisy, making her whole body stiffen. I notice I missed a spot by her hairline. My stomach knots as I use my shirt to wipe at it, knowing she’s going to fucking hate that it’s still on her.

“I hope this is different than your other relationships,” Connor tells her sincerely. Fuck him.

“You’re really going to fucking go there?” I ask, my body pulsing with anger. I’m not like those other douchebags. The first time she goes down on me and he walks in. It makes me seem like a fucking dick, but it’s also bad fucking luck.

“Yes,” he says, “I’ve actually seen her leave a bedroom after doing something similar with Julian.”

Her ex-boyfriend’s name literally lights my core. I clench my fists, wanting to punch the shit out of him. I don’t want to think about his cock in her mouth or even his cock fifteen feet from her body. I want that image fucking gone. And of course, Connor brings it up just to rile me. I shake my head, restraining the urge to throw a fist in the wall. I decide to leave for the bathroom instead, my anger spinning around me as I grab a washcloth and run it under the sink.

When I return to the room, I hear Daisy say, “Ryke’s not like the other guys, Connor.”

I shoot Connor a glare. “Can you just be fucking embarrassed right now? How are you still standing here?”

“I’ve never been embarrassed in my life,” he says. Everything that comes out of his mouth—I’d like to strangle. He’s so fucking annoying.

I bend down and start rubbing the warm washcloth on her cheeks, holding her chin steady with my other hand. “Oh yeah?” I ask, my eyes flitting to Connor’s. “What about if Daisy saw you fucking? How embarrassed would you be then?” This isn’t going to lead anywhere good, but I’m so fucking sick of him thinking he’s a god. Like he can’t be touched. I want him to feel at least an ounce of the embarrassment that he’s caused Daisy.

Her eyes go wide. “I’d be embarrassed,” she says to me, kicking my ankle hard. She mouths, Stop.

So that plan wasn’t fully fucking thought out. I grit my teeth, fucking pissed by everything. Julian being brought into the conversation did not help.

Connor raises his brows. “Did she watch those tapes?” He sounds more surprised than affronted.

I keep my mouth shut this time, rubbing the cloth along her forehead, concentrating on her.

“On accident,” she blurts out. “I tried not to look, I promise.” I haven’t even seen those tapes, but I’m sure it’d be more awkward for her. It’s her sister and her brother-in-law in them. She clutches my shoulder like all of these facts are going to shrivel her from humiliation. I console her the best I can, caressing her head with my right hand and wiping the rest of my cum off her face with the other.

Connor stays quiet, unreadable, which makes this so much worse for her.

When I finish, I stand to scrutinize Connor’s reaction. But it gives me nothing, so I have to ask, “How do you feel now, Cobalt?”

“Disturbed,” Connor says calmly. “A little worried too. I didn’t think it’d be that easy to stumble onto our porn.” He looks to Daisy, his brows now furrowing. “What site were you on?”

“I fucking hate you,” I deadpan. “Seriously.” I wanted that satisfying moment where we arrive on an even playing field. She saw him naked. He saw this. But Connor refuses to give us that triumph. We’re left with this fucking awkwardness, no matter what.

Connor pulls out his cellphone like he’s going to make a note of the site.

“I can’t remember, Lily suggested it,” she mumbles.

I freeze with Connor. Lily shouldn’t be watching porn, and if she is…well that would be considered a relapse in the sex addiction recovery handbook.

Daisy’s eyes widen like what did I say?

“Is she watching porn again?” Connor asks.

“No. She just recommended the site when I asked. No need to go postal, guys. You know she hates when everyone overreacts. Last month, you…” She points at me accusingly, defending her sister. “…barged into her bathroom just because she was taking a little longer. Do you know how embarrassing that is?”

Yeah, I know, I was there. Her face turned into a giant fucking tomato and she screamed at me. But I’d rather embarrass her ten times over than have the alternative happen—relapse or worse…suicide. It’d kill my brother. It’d kill all of us. And I’ve seen her at her worst, when she was in a bathroom out of her fucking mind, and I often wonder what would have happened if I didn’t barge in.

None of us will take that chance.

Connor lets out a sigh. “I’ll text her later. You.” He looks at me. “Return to our room. I don’t want Lo finding out about your quasi-relationship like this. You.” He turns to Daisy. “Don’t let Ryke come on your face again.” Fucking A.

“Fuck off, Cobalt.” I push him out the door, aggressively, wanting so bad to remove that fucking smile on the edge of his lips. I settle with closing the door on his face. When I spin around, Daisy stands to her feet.

“Has this happened to you before?” she asks, her eyes rising to mine. My cum on a girl’s face. No. Never. And I never even thought about it until now.

I’m so fucking sorry, Dais. I know she didn’t like it. I know it’s not something that should have happened tonight.

“You’re the fucking first,” I tell her.

“Me too,” she says, trying hard not to smile. Now that Connor is gone, there’s a lightness in her eyes, a laughter that bubbles up and tears away the tension from the situation. I walk over and cup the back of her head, my fingers running through her hair. She lets out a breath. She likes this.

“I’m sorry, Calloway.”

“I like you on me.”

I give her a look. “Not like that.”

“Not like that, but…it was an experience.” She grins.

Connor may not believe we’re in a real relationship, but I’m glad we’re starting out like this, to relish in all these little fucking moments before we get to the one she’s waiting for—the one I crave. But despite what anyone says, this fucking works for us right now.

< 35 >

DAISY CALLOWAY

I exit the motel shower, basking in the warm water before we start camping-camping. With real tents and campfires and everything that makes my heart flutter in excitement. As I pull on a shirt that says this ain’t paris, I glance up once and meet the television. My smile fades, and my whole body goes rigid.

Sara Hale is on the screen.

Ryke’s mom.

A news segment shows clips of the 60 Minutes interview that aired last night. Ryke’s mom faces a reporter, her golden-brown hair straightened. I strain my ears to pick up her words. “What I did was not a malicious attack on the Calloway family.”

“But you sold the information about Lily Calloway’s sex addiction to magazines, did you not?”

“Yes, but I wasn’t trying to hurt that girl. I was just tired of hiding the truth. You have to understand that I spent years protecting Jonathan Hale’s infidelity. The only way to expose him was to put Jonathan under a spotlight. I only saw one way to achieve that, and I apologize for whatever emotional hurt I caused Lily. But she was linked to Loren, his son. She was tangled in a very complicated family dispute.”

“You sound as though she was cannon fodder.”

“Again, I apologize if it seems that way.” Sara pauses and stares at her hands with solemnity, but she has a hardness behind her eyes, a toughness that combats the softness. “As a mother, I was torn daily. I had to hide my real son, and I was forced to act like Loren was my child. I just wanted to be free of Jonathan, and I wanted my son to be free too.”

“But were you really forced?” the reporter asks. “You signed the divorce agreement. You knew what you were complying to.”

“At the time, I was a single mother, young and confused. I was scared, and I did what I thought was best for my son.”

“Ryke.”

“Yes, Ryke.”

Someone shifts in the open doorway that connects the adjoining motel rooms. I look over.

Ryke. His eyes are dark and set on the screen like he’s been watching for a little bit. His hair is wet from taking a shower in the other bathroom. After Connor’s warning last night, he went back to their bedroom. And I didn’t even make him check the locks before he left. I’m trying my best to overcome that fear.

It must be almost time to hit the road again, and I’m sure he came to fetch me, but his gaze stays on the television screen.

Sara straightens up in her chair. “I realize now that I only hurt him through the divorce agreement.”

Ryke runs a hand through his wet hair and walks further into the room, his eyes falling to the ground as he searches the floor for the remote.

“Don’t you want to listen to what she has to say?” I ask him, packing my comb in my duffel.

“It’s a fucking media ploy to make herself look better.”

“How can you be so sure?” I ask.

Ryke turns to face me. I’m not scared of him at all, and I don’t think he wants me to be. But his eyes flash hot, with anger so deep-seated that it’s hard to look at. “She sounds like she rehearsed her answers. She doesn’t fucking talk that formal.”

I frown. “Really? My mom sounds like that.”

“Mine doesn’t. She’s emotional. If she was real, she’d be crying or yelling. She wouldn’t hold back and be stone-faced.” He gestures to the television. “The only time I’ve seen her like that is when she’s trying to impress her wealthy fucking friends.”

This is the most he’s ever talked about his mom with me. I watch as he searches for the remote, but it’s with less diligence, his gaze faraway as his thoughts spin.

“Do you miss her?” I ask him.

 He finds one of my shirts on the ground and tosses it to me. “Sometimes, but it doesn’t fucking matter, Dais.”

I stuff the shirt in my duffel pocket. “But she’s your mom…” I can’t imagine never talking to mine again. Even if there are times I’d like to run away from her, running away forever sounds painful.

He shakes his head. “I can’t live in your fucking optimistic world where everyone is kind and holy. I’ve seen too many bad people to believe there’s that many good.”

“She can change though—” I start, wanting something better for him. I wish I could take his problems and uncomplicate them, even if I can’t. It hurts to feel like I have no control over it.

“Change what, Daisy?” He shrugs. “She already ruined Lily’s life,” he states matter-of-factly, but his eyes are dark. “She ruined your life and Rose’s. And she broke my fucking heart. It’s fucking over.”

I swallow hard, a lump in my throat. “She didn’t ruin my life,” I say softly.

Ryke glares. “Don’t even fucking start.” Because he’s seen me scream at night, he’s watched me turn into a scared, frightened girl. And the catalyst for everything was Sara Hale.

“I wouldn’t be upset if you tried to have a relationship with her,” I add. “I just need you to know that.”

He surrenders his search for the remote and walks forward, his hands brushing my cheeks. “Thank you,” he says with a short nod. “But it won’t change anything.”

I nod back, not sure what else to say. My throat closes.

Off my silence, his features darken, his brows furrowing. “I just can’t forgive her,” he tells me. “For some fucking reason, it feels more like a weakness than a strength to open my arms to her.”

“Even if you miss her?”

He nods. “Yeah. Even if I miss her. So that’s where I’m at.” He kisses my head. “Don’t worry too much about my family problems, Dais. It’s my shit. I really don’t want you in the middle of it.”

I look up at him. “I’m glad that you want to talk to me though.”

He gives me a confused look. “Why wouldn’t I want to?”

My age.

The pieces must click because he says, “We wouldn’t be together right now if I thought you were too immature to talk to about this stuff.”

My lips begin to rise, but a reporter at a news desk cuts into our conversation, “Sara Hale has no evidence that either Ryke Meadows or Loren Hale was sexually or physically assaulted by their father. Although, she did say it’s possible both happened to Loren during his residence at his father’s home in Philadelphia. You can learn more about this ongoing case on our website…”

Ryke is on the hunt for the remote again, and before the reporter gives any contact info he finally finds it and shuts the television off.

I don’t ask what he knows about the whole ordeal. I can tell that he’s through talking about it. I was lucky enough to get what I did out of him today.