Page 91 of Lost Boy
Ryder slips his tongue out, and I fall flat to the bed, right into my load. I lie here, letting the waves of bliss roll over me, and take a deep breath, sighing my contentment.
Ryder chuckles, giving my butt a playful slap. “Feelin’ good?”
“Mhm,” I confirm, my eyes starting to droop. I watch as Ryder slips into his en-suite to clean up. The sink runs, and the soothing sound puts me to sleep.
I hear the door click shut, and my eyes pop back open when I feel Ryder’s bulk weigh the bed down behind me. I already know what he wants, so I tip my ass up, ready to let him come on me.
CHAPTERTWENTY-SIX
FALLON
The parking lot is filled with Rolls Royces, Bentleys, and other rich-ass cars I never would have seen at the trailer park in Philly. Not in a million years. If I did, it would have been on its way to the chop shop or up on cinder blocks in the street, picked apart in minutes like piranhas feasting on prime rib.
The clubhouse, well-maintained grounds, and the bright green golf course all boast wealth and luxury.
The valet at the podium rushes over with a big smile when he sees us pull up, and we hop out, not wasting a moment.
“Hi, Kenny!” Sofie says enthusiastically to the pimply, ginger-haired boy who takes Ryder’s keys.
“Hey, Sofia,” he mumbles shyly, blushing bright red before turning back to Ry.
“Ryder, you ready for the championship? My mom said I can go this year, and I’m so excited! I know you’re gonna dunk on Seth. Please tell me you’re gonna dunk on Seth?”
Cute.My boyfriend has a fan.
“Heck yeah, dude. Dustin first. Seth can have my sloppy seconds. Rich can get thirsty thirds.”
Kenny chuckles, still slightly pink. “Well, I can’t wait to watch you serve them. In whatever order. I know you’ll kick ass and bring the trophy home for us.”
“Thanks, dude.” Ryder fist-bumps the kid before we head toward the massive doors blocked by another person sitting atanotherpodium.
Fancy.
I don’t fit.
My hands twitch with the need to adjust my borrowed tie and tug at my collar. The man at the door stares me down like I have a dick and balls drawn on my forehead instead of a little eyeliner and tinted Chapstick.
Whatever.
Wonder how he’d feel if he knew where Ryder just had his tongue. And how much I fucking liked it.
He clears his throat uncomfortably as if he can read my dirty thoughts. “There’s a dress code. No make-up.”
Huh?
Before Ryder or I can say a word, Sofie speaks up. “Bernard! Every woman in there has make-up on. I have freaking make-up on!”
“It’s Barry,” he replies coolly.
“Right. And is that not short for Bernard? Anyway, back to the point! Half the people here wear make-up, and my dad pays for a membership just the same. This is our guest.” Sofie loops her arm through mine in solidarity, not needing Ryder or me to step in. She can apparently handle grown men for us. Put them in their fucking places.
Priceless.
“You’re rude and insulting. Step aside, sir,” she finishes in a very serious tone. Her Cruz family smile is nowhere to be found. This is serious-Sofie we’re dealing with, and I don’t think Bernard should fuck with her.
I can’t help the snort that escapes me or the crooked smile tugging at my lips.
Her spunk and defense of me wash away some of the lingering anxiety of being tied up and left for dead in the woods.
