Page 37 of Loathing Ryan
She nodded, and then crossed her arms over her chest like she was pleased. “I’m sure you are.”
“That’s not fair,” I said with an eye roll. “You can’t just spring something like that on me and grade me on my reaction. What even brought on this subject?”
“I don’t know. I guess I was just thinking about it.”
“What’s in that book of yours?” I teased. “You sure it’s not some smutty romance that’s getting you all hot and bothered?”
“Nooo.” She drew out the word. “It’s definitely not. It’s about the industrial revolution.”
“I’m sure they had sex in the industrial revolution, so it’s not so far off kilter.”
“Ryan!” she gasped, and I threw my head back with a laugh.
“You’re the one who brought it up!”
She waved her hand and spun on her chair, so she was no longer facing me. “Just—leave me alone.”
Still laughing under my breath, I did as she asked, my fingers going back to the guitar strings. Even though I tried to focus on the musical notes coming from the instrument, I couldn’t quite get Izabel’s announcement out of my head. She really had taken me by surprise. I guess she was right in my presumed assumption that she was a virgin.
I wasn’t entirely sure what I was going to do with this information, and until I figured it out, it would continue to burn a hole in my brain. I suddenly had a desire to maim whoever it was who was lucky enough to take her virginity. I questioned that darker part of me, now seriously contemplating hunting whoever this other dude was. I ran over a few potential names in my head, but I couldn’t picture any of them with her. None of them were good enough for her. None of them wereme.
I focused more on the guitar in my hands. I had a tune stuck in my brain, and I played it over and over again, working to come up with the rest of the melody as I fiddled around with different chord progressions.
My dad played the guitar. I had vivid memories of him sitting in the living room, messing around like I was now. My mom would sit next to him with a book or a magazine, her feet pressed up against his. I would be down on the floor, playing with whatever new toy had been holding my attention.
Those were some of the best nights. I felt closer to him now, as I did the same as I had for a long, long time.
I wondered what he would think of this situation I had gotten myself into with Izabel. Would he be proud of the way we were handling things? Would he have done things differently?
What would he think about Izabel? I knew he would approve of her. She was practically perfect. He would probably laugh if I had told him about all the ways she had given me trouble while we’d been out here together. He’d give me a wry look and tell me I’d deserve it, then he’d give her a high five for keeping me on my toes.
“What are you thinking about?” Izabel asked, pulling me out of my memories.
I raised my brows at her. “Hmm?”
“Your face just got this look to it. I could tell something was on your mind.”
“Oh, just my dad,” I said, unashamed. “He used to play like this. I was just thinking about him. I think he’d like you. He’d like your spirit.”
She pressed her lips together. A few minutes passed, and then she pushed out of her chair. Slowly, she stepped closer to me, grabbing the guitar out of my hands and setting it on the table next to us.
“What are you doing?” I breathed as she came even closer, now that the guitar was out of her way.
“Just—experimenting,” she whispered back. “Stay still.”
I did what she asked, not moving a muscle as she lowered her head, running the tip of her nose against mine.
She moved even closer until she was straddling my lap and braced herself with her hands on my shoulders. I tried not to tense too much under the feeling of her dainty hands on my body. When she was seated on top of me, she arched her back, pressing our chests together. Her hands moved from my shoulders to the nape of my neck, where she played with the strands of my scruffy hair.
Catching me off guard, Izabel undulated her hips against mine. I groaned as she rubbed herself over me, my cock twitching under my shorts at the sensation of her grinding. My eyes flashed to hers, only to see her eyes glowing with desire.
My body was heating exponentially with every second that passed. Who was this vixen dressed like Izabel? Where had she come from?
Her eyelids hooded as she ground herself against me again, her lips parting slightly as she gasped. I tried my hardest to control myself from bucking up into her.
“You feel good,” she said, her voice husky.
I chuckled. “You feel better.”
