Fastball (Wilde Players Dirty Romance) (3 page)

Then we laugh as I remove my hand and lick my fingers. “I believe this is my dessert.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Uh huh,” I mumble.

“My turn.”

“God, I hope Mom doesn’t come back. Where’s that dessert? If I don’t eat it, she’ll think I’m sick.”

Gina hands me the plate, and I eat the cake or whatever it is that’s there. I feel her hands trying to unbutton my pants.

“You can’t do this,” I scold her.

“Why not?”

“Because we’re in the box with people around.”

“So?” She looks as though it’s an everyday occurrence.

“How many times have you done this?” I ask.

Her lip pokes out, and she says, “You’re not supposed to ask those kinds of questions, Ryder.”

“I don’t have a shirt on like you do to cover myself. I don’t want my dick exposed to the world while you give me a hand job.”

She smirks. “You’re a chicken.”

“Yeah, I am.”

She points a finger at the plate and says, “Finish up there, my little chicken.”

Who am I to disobey an adventurous woman? When I’m done, I set the plate aside, and she takes my hand, pulling me into the bathroom in the back of the room.

“Ahh, good idea,” I say as she locks the door.

By this time, my dick is about to tear through the zipper. She undoes it and pulls it free of the jail it’s been in. Then I watch in wonder as she drops to her knees and puts her lips around the tip, sucking me into the warmth of her mouth.

It’s about now that I want to moan my pleasure, but I stay quiet. Watching Gina with my cock in her mouth is quite the picture. She takes me in a little deeper each time, and she watches me—she fucking watches me. It makes me want to fuck her hard, like I did earlier. But I also want to come on her tongue, down her throat. I want to feel her swallow what I pump into her, squeezing me until I’m dry. The way she swirls her tongue around my head and then slides it along my shaft almost has me unglued. But then she takes me in deeper than I think is possible, squeezing my balls until I tell her, letting her know I’m close. And that’s when she really goes at it until I shoot everything I have into her. And I, exactly like she did, have to hold a hand over my mouth to stop the groan from escaping.

As soon as possible, I tuck my dick back in my jeans and zip up.

“Let’s go,” I say.

And when I open the door, Cassidy and Riley stand there staring at us.

GINA

Pushing my hair back, I smirk at Cassie and walk past with my head held high. So I sucked Ryder off in the bathroom. It was fucking hot. The guy pushes all my buttons. If anything, I should be more wary of that.

Heading for the bar, I ask for a shot of tequila. Before I know it, I’m cornered by Cassie and Riley.

“So, are you going to tell us what you were doing in the bathroom with Ryder?” Cassie tosses out.

“And let’s just put it out there. Are you fucking my brother?” Riley asks, double teaming me.

I’m not a blusher, because rarely do I ever give a crap about what people think of me. But I’ve never been ambushed by a sister.

Pulling up my metaphorical big girl pants, I say, “You want to know what I was doing in the bathroom?” They both nod. “I was doing him. So what? Neither one of you is our mother.”

I start to walk away, but Riley brings me up short.

“Just some friendly advice, because I think you and I could be fast friends, but a bit of a warning, too. My brother is a lover. You know what I mean? He loves women, hard and fast and more times than I can count. But on the same note, he’s a Wilde. You remember that conversation we had before? When he loves, he loves hard and long. And can be hurt. Don’t hurt my brother.”

The warning is received. She feels for Ryder like I feel for Cassie. She may not be my blood sister, but that doesn’t stop the bond we formed over many years of taking care of one another.

“I doubt I could. Besides, I like it hard and fast, too,” I say cheekily. “I’m not the lover type, so no worries there.”

Cassie sees through my shit. She gives me a sideways glance, but thank goodness she doesn’t give up the goods in front of Ryder’s sister.

“Good. Then we won’t have a problem. Besides, I truly think he’s into someone, so it’s a good thing you’re not a clinger,” Riley says.

The comment hurts, and it shouldn’t. I brush it aside and smile.

“So not a clinger,” I say, waving a hand.

Then I spot Ryder talking to a very cute perky woman who must have something in her eye the way she’s batting her eyelashes at him.

“We should hang out sometime. I don’t know anybody,” Riley is saying, so I turn my attention back to them.

“Abso-fucking-lutely. I know a club we can go to.”

Cassie jumps in. “You are not taking her to a sex club.”

“Why the fuck not? It’s not like I do anything there besides watch. It’s fun. Plus, you can find guys that aren’t looking for the long-term,” I protest.

“There are plenty of guys in normal clubs for that. You should go out with Mark.”

I feel like I bit into a lemon as a sour taste fills my mouth because he’s like a brother to me.

Riley says with clappy hands, “Mark who?”

“Mark, Fletcher’s best friend.” Something crosses over Riley’s face, but I continue, “And don’t get me wrong. He’s easy to gaze at, but he’s too vanilla for me.”

“That’s not what you said,” Cassie teases.

“Oh, my, god. We were in high school. He was my first,” I explain to Riley. “But soon we realized we worked better as friends.”

Cassie’s eyes sparkle with something like a matchmaker’s twinkle. “I could introduce you.”

I put a hand up. “Let me stop this train from shooting down the tracks. I think Riley’s more like me than you and Fletcher. Mark is too romantic for her.”

“Yes, you have my number. So Mark’s out. But I’ve never been to a sex club. Sounds like fun and, Cassie, you have to go with.”

“Oh, I so will not,” Cassie says.

In agreement with Riley, I say, “Yes, my bestie, you will have to come.”

“Fletcher would just die,” she says.

“There’s no law against just looking, Cassie. Besides, if he truly loves you, he has to trust you completely.”

Cassie can’t say anything.

After the game, I’m sorry I brought it up. Fletcher and Cassie get into a bit of an argument over the topic of her hanging out with me at the club. I try to butt in, but Fletcher does that growly thing for me to stay out of it.

Mark leans over. “Sex club, huh?”

Our long ago, very short-lived relationship isn’t a problem for either of us. He’s like my brother now.

Shrugging, I say, “It’s something to do.”

“Have you ever participated?” he asks mischievously.

“No.” I’d thought about it. But it’s one thing to play games behind the closed doors of your house, and it’s another to have the idea that you might get caught doing things. It’s a whole different thing to actually be on display. Even I’m not that bold.

“You are being safe, right?” Mark asks, taking my hand in his.

“I am.” I squeeze his in mine.

“You know I’m only thirty minutes and a phone call away if you ever need me.”

“I know,” I say. “How about you? Are you seeing anyone?” The smile shoots to his eyes, so there is someone special. “Who is she?”

Using his other hand, he brushes a finger down my nose. “You know I don’t kiss and tell. If things get serious, you’ll be the first to meet her and my litmus test.”

When we make it to Fletcher’s mini mansion, not small my ass as Cassie claimed, the pair have made up. It’s almost gross to watch them play grabby hands as they practically race to their bedroom.

“Are you going to bed?” Mark asks when we’re left alone.

“In a few.”

“If you’re not ready to head to bed, do you want company?” I shake my head. “All right, I’m going to bed then.”

“You’re going to call that girl and have phone sex, aren’t you?”

The smile he shines on me is so bright, I have to raise a hand to block it. I swat at him, and he dodges before heading to his assigned room upstairs.

Alone, I pour a drink and stare at myself in the mirror. I hate the woman who stares back at me. And not that I hate myself. But I’m the spitting image of my mother, or so I’m told, a woman I never knew.

Pushing back the mass of black hair, I wish I had the guts to cut it all off or bleach it. That way maybe I wouldn’t look so much like the tourist girl who’d come to the mountains with her family so many years ago. She saw my father and had to have him, if you believe the stories he tells. She got herself knocked up and nearly disowned. When I was born, she dropped me off at my dad’s parents’ house and never looked back.

He didn’t even know her last name, their relationship was so
wham bam thank you ma’am
. I grew up with a dad who was way too young to want to be a father and grandparents way too old to be parents. Somehow in between I’d managed, thanks to Cassie and her family.

“What are you thinking about?”

I turn, nearly swallowing my tongue out of fright, not knowing someone was downstairs with me.

“What are you doing here?” I ask instead.

“I didn’t want to stay at the hotel with my sister and parents. And Fletcher’s my cousin. I’ve stayed here several times. I have a key.”

Holding it up, he gives me an impish grin.

Downing the contents of my glass, I set it on the bar, prepared to leave.

“So, are you a runner?”

Mystified, I turn to face the man. He takes off his baseball hat, which is perpetually on his head, and runs a hand through his dark hair. I stare at the arm sleeve. His tats make him appear more dangerous and the reason why I’d been so attracted to him when I spotted him that first time. I’ve always been a fan of a bad boy, which is why I never expected or wanted relationships to last. When he puts the hat back on, it’s turned backwards, and damn, if that isn’t sexy as fuck.

“Well,” he says, reminding me I haven’t answered his question.

“I’ve been known to jog a few times, why?”

When he smiles, a tiny perfect dimple appears on his cheek. “That’s not what I mean. I think you’re running from me. Why, I don’t know.”

“I’m not running from you,” I deny it even though the truth is, I am. “I told you. I’m not into the relationship thing. We had a fun night, but that’s it.”

“What scares you about a relationship?”

This is a simple answer. I don’t even have to think about it. “Let’s see. My mom abandoned me as a child. My dad is the biggest manwhore alive. And honestly, I think I stand up for women by not being like all those whiny ones who played mommy to me until my dad got bored. And then they would cry and beg to be treated like shit. I want to be the opposite of them. I don’t need a man to survive.”

Ryder’s brows shoot up, and I realize I may have said that with too much vehemence.

“Okay,” he says, looking a little shell-shocked. “I didn’t want to walk you down the aisle or anything. I just thought we could have fun together. And isn’t it safer to have fun with one person?”

“Safe physically to be monogamous if both parties are and come into the arrangement clean.”

“I’m clean. I’m tested all the time.”

Shit, my brain. I hadn’t meant to speak out loud, because it wasn’t safer for my heart.

“Besides, you’re a bit too vanilla for me anyway.”

His eyes become the size of baseballs. “Vanilla? What? Are you into kinky shit?” He studies my eyes. “So it is true. You want to take Cassidy to a sex club.”

“See, this is what I’m talking about. You’re vanilla, and I’m not.”

“But—”

“Don’t bother. You have a small mind for a guy with a decent sized dick. Sex clubs are a place of acceptance for lovers of fucking. I go there and I’m not accused of being a slut because I like sex. I can find a partner that knows exactly what I need and isn’t looking for a white picket fence and crumb snatchers. Don’t get me wrong. I think that’s great for some people. And kids are cute. But that’s not what I’m looking for right now. And what the fuck? Just because I’m not a guy, I’m not allowed to enjoy myself in the company of men?”

“Wait—”

My regurgitation of my views leaves me feeling somewhat vindicated and hollow at the same time, so I leave while I’m ahead. I shut myself in my room and am grateful that all the bedrooms in the house have their own attached bath. I take a lingering shower, somewhat sad as I wash away Ryder’s scent. I barely sleep, and then I’m out of the house before dawn, catching the Uber I’d set up. Some of us have to work to pay our bills. And when I get on the plane, I hope I don’t cross paths with the guy who’s too perfect for my cloud-covered future. I need distance from the man who makes vanilla seem a little spicy.

RYDER

You’re a bit too vanilla for me.
The phrase repeats itself in my head. And the bad thing is, I keep seeing her gorgeous mouth form the words, like a bad pitch on instant replay, over and over. What she doesn’t know, didn’t give me a chance to tell her, is I’d try anything with her—go to her sex club, venture out of my so-called
vanilla
lifestyle, and add in some kinky fucking if she wants. Hell, I’m all on board for that kind of shit. But no, she walks out, and won’t answer my knocks on her bedroom door.

In the morning when I wander into the kitchen and ask about her, Fletcher tells me she’s gone. She fucking left without a word. She pulled a goddamn man’s move on me. And now I feel like a fucking pansy ass, with my balls crawling right up in my ass, quivering. Jesus, what is happening here? I don’t normally fall this fast for a girl. But this time, she’s nailed me but good. The thing is, I want her. I want more of Gina Ferraro.

“Coffee?” Fletcher’s voice snags me out of my daydreams.

“Huh?”

“I asked if you wanted any coffee?” He holds up the pot and a mug.

“I guess so.”

He pours while I watch. “Cream? Sugar? I can never remember.”

“No.”

“Eggs? Sausage? Bacon? Toast? It’s all over there. Cass already cooked.”

His words slip right past me as I stare into the dark contents of my mug.