Page 27 of Ryder
“Fuck.” I lowered it again, catching all eyes on me again. “What? Like it wasn’t worth a try?”
Unknown:Not yet, baby. I’ll talk to you when we’re face to face again.
“This cunt. She’s fucking with my head again.” I handed the phone off to Torch, while he tapped away at the screen.
Me:Ever heard of phone sex? It’s fun.
I shot him a withering stare, as he read out what he was sending, and what he, or I, received in return.
Unknown:I prefer flesh against flesh, sorry.
Geez. Under normal circumstances, she’d be exactly my fucking type, except for her need to fucking have me unconscious and yielding to her.
“Stop messaging her,” Ice said suddenly, and we all stared at him.
“Why?” He was still staring avidly at his screen.
“She’s switched it off.”
“So what does it matter if we keep messaging?”
Ice scratched at his head, his blue grey hair a mess already.
“Because it just occurred to me that maybe she’s keeping an open connection for a reason.”
“Well, she already knows where I live,” I pointed out.
He nodded. “But, I mean… while you’re actively messaging from here, it’s clear you’re home. What if what she did was the first part of an attack against the whole club? What if she’s…Jesus… I don’t know. I just feel like this is a bad idea. We’re giving something away, but I just don’t know what.”
“Maybe lay off the fucking drugs for a while, so your brain works,” Reacher growled at him, and Ice widened his eyes.
“You fuckers wanted me awake, and doing this shit for you. How the hell do you think I’m even managing that, if not for the fucking pills? I haven’t slept in nearly three days. I’m surprised I’m even upright.”
Stitch muttered something to Reacher, and he nodded, standing up.
“Let’s call it a night. Ice, get some fucking sleep. Get a prospect watching whatever you still have running. Ryder, you’re still locked down, but Ice is right. Stop interacting with her. In fact, Stitch, get someone to run one of the burners up here. Transfer what you need, and keep this phone off.”
Torch handed me the phone, and headed for the door.
“Since nobody’s giving me any orders, I’m going to find someone with holes. Need to get my dick wet, so don’t bother looking for me for a few hours.”
He left the room, and I groaned. “Maybe I should-”
“Rest. You’re still waiting on test results, so no fucking anyone. No getting head either. You know the risks.”
Jesus. I watched as my room emptied, and then I was alone again. Alone with the reality of my situation. They didn’t know what this was like. They had no fucking idea. Even if I was allowed out, allowed to fuck someone, I had no idea if my dick would even work because the bastard had gone on strike. How frustrating that I couldn’t even remember my last fuck.
I locked my door after Stitch dropped off the burner, and I did what I was told. I transferred my numbers and shit, and I switched my own one off, and tossed it in my bedside drawer.
Then I grabbed my laptop, and with a sense of determination, I clicked one of the regularly used links in my favourites. I flickedthrough and selected a movie, and set it running, headphones on, so nobody could hear.
And halfway through the rampant porn session I was watching, I had to consider the real possibility that I just couldn’t get it up anymore. Was it the Viagra? Had it fucked something up inside me, or was it the GHB? Maybe it was the experience itself? I’d unzipped my jeans, and stroked my cock for ages, watching some filthy gangbang movie, while I was trying to will some life into it, but it just stayed flaccid. Dormant. Dead.
Great, the bitch killed my fucking cock.
Eleven
Iwas surprised thathe’d tried to call me yesterday, but maybe he really was that eager for another night together. I’d yearned to answer it, to hear his voice, to hear it doing something other than yelling out in pain, or groaning with pleasure, although I’d happily take both of those again too.
