Page 23 of Ryder
“What the fuck, man?” Torch grabbed the phone from the floor, as I dropped into the seat behind me. “You’ll smash the screen.” He checked it, and then glanced at me.
“What was it? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I lifted my eyes to his. “Check out the messages from the unknown number.” He turned to the screen, swiping with his thumb, and then he cursed. And then he cursed some more.
He pulled his own phone out of his pocket, and dialled.
“We need you in Ryder’s room. The cunt sent him messages.”
He rang off. No other words were needed.
“Give it to me.”
He waved me off, staring at the screen.
“Give me the fucking phone,” I yelled, my fists clenched.
My door crashed open, and he passed it straight to Reacher, who looked like he’d been drinking. Stitch was right behind him, still fastening his jeans. Jesus. Did he just stop mid-fuck?
“What the fuck. That bitch,” I heard Reacher mutter, as he passed the phone to Stitch. Reacher was watching me now. I knew what Stitch was seeing. What the other two had seen.
Video footage. Of me, tied to that bed naked, except for the woman straddling my waist, riding my dick like she owned it. We couldn’t see her face. She was careful about that. But there was the red hair, flowing down her back, flying around her face as she rocked and writhed on top of me. Her hands were on my chest. She dragged her nails down my skin, leaving dark red marks, and I was unconscious. At least until she clawed me, and then my eyes opened, and I yelled out.
I’d only seen it once, but it was burned into my brain. I couldn’t stop seeing it. She really had tied me to a bed, and fucked me. While I was drugged up, and unaware of it.
Stitch was cursing, and disappeared from the room, taking my phone with him. I lurched out of the chair, wanting him to stop, to bring it back.Don’t show it to anyone.
Torch shoved me back into my chair.
“Stay the fuck there, man. He’ll be discreet.”
I glared at him. “He’s got my phone, with video footage of me apparently being raped by a woman. You tell me how the fuck that isn’t about to destroy my fucking reputation in this club. I’m weak. I’m a fucking victim!”
I shot to my feet again, upending the coffee table with a crash, turning to grab my chair, flipping it over. From there I went to my kitchen, where I grabbed the vodka, and started drinking it from the bottle. Oblivion. I just needed oblivion. Peace.No more concerned eyes, and fucking humiliation.
Ten
Iwished I couldhave seen his reaction. Getting his number from my accomplice had been smart though. It had given me a unique opportunity to build a rapport with him, to get to know him better, to share our beautiful moments with him. He hadn’t replied yet, and I really wished that he would. I wished that he’d open a dialogue with me, so we could talk about how incredible our night together had been, and about how desperately I wanted to be with him again.
My eyes were burning with tiredness, because I’d been awake since the previous evening, feeling so wired from being with him. I wanted more. I wanted it like I wanted to, just for once, sleep like a normal person. I only ever slept a few hours here and there, and no more. I didn’t have to work. I had money. I literally had nothing to do, but find a new conquest as often as I wanted, so I could get my pleasure. My way.The safe way. The only way where I had ultimate control, where they submitted fully to me, where I ensured it was good for me, even if they didn’t remember later.
It wasn’t normal for me to be obsessed with one of my lovers, not after our one night. It wasn’t necessary to ever see them again after all. They existed purely to scratch an itch, and nothing more.
I glanced at my phone again with frustration. Why didn’t he reply? Why didn’t he want to know me? To know more? Why didn’t he want to see me again? The urge to steal a car, and drive past the clubhouse again was so intense. I needed to see him again, because suddenly the videos weren’t enough. I needed more. I needed him.
I went to the window, staring down at the doorway to our love-nest. We couldn’t use it again, but maybe this time I could get into his clubhouse, and into his room. No, that’s crazy. It wasn’t that he’d recognise me, but it wouldn’t be that easy, right? Even if the prospects on guard felt like I looked trustworthy, they were probably already in the shit for letting me in last night, and letting me go again. They’d be more careful about letting me in, if they even would again.
I caught my reflection in the glass; short dark hair, and that scar, the one that marred my face, and ensured that no man would ever want me again. No. He’d definitely never recognise me, and the video showed me with my red wig on anyway.
I’d learned early on that when you have flowing locks of hair, they always,alwaysremember the hair, and often miss other details. It was a form of misdirection. They probably don’t even see the scar, because all they see is masses of hair, tits, hips, ass…it’s why they’d never, ever catch me.
Ryder
By the time someonehad snatched the vodka from me, I’d drunk enough of it that the room was gently spinning, and when they dumped me on my bed, on my stomach, I fell asleep almost immediately.
My dreams were strange, my sleep restless, and erratic. I woke often, and when I did, I knew I’d seen her. And me. Now I was seeing me being ridden by this flame haired monster woman, who took and took, and sucked me dry of my very soul.
When I lurched over the side of my bed, and threw up everywhere, I heard someone cursing.
