Page 65 of Broken Butterfly
He flashes a grin at me and moves so Julien can see me.
“You let him beat you and I’ll never speak with you again.”
“Then I’ll make sure not to. Besides, aren’t you still mad at me and not talking to me anyway?” I smile to let him know I’m teasing, even though a part of me isn’t. I’m pretty sure after tonight, Julien will go back to being angry at me again.
Julien gives me a quick peck on the forehead and taps the side of the car with his knuckles.
I roll the window up and hand Ryder my phone. “You know what to play.”
Ryder leans over the console and grabs the back of my neck, bringing me in for a hot, wet kiss. “I love you so fucking much.”
Fallon sits back. “Stop with the front seat porn unless I’m invited.”
Ryder kisses me deeply one more time while giving Fallon the bird. Seconds later “Alive” by P.O.D. starts blasting from my phone. It’s the song we listened to when Ryder came and got me from the library to be the first person to ride in his Hellcat.
As I make my way up to the starting line, I look over at Marshall. I kiss my middle finger and blow it at him.
“Hey, Fallon. Does that mean if I win, I get your Equus?”
“Shit, kitten, when you beat that fucker, I’ll give you my yacht.”
“Alrighty then.”
Chapter 19
The door crashes inwards and Ryder and I stumble around in the dark, mouths fused, hands groping. He reaches back and bolts the lock.
“Lights?” I gasp.
“Don’t need them. Know where I’m going,” he grunts out, lifting me up and latching onto my neck with a hard suck that makes my nipples pucker and my core clench. He’s marking me and I plan on doing the same to him.
Another door goes wide as Ryder kicks it hard with his foot. I scrape my nails along the back of his head, loving the feel of his soft hair against my fingertips. Then I’m being spun and dropped on the hood of a car.
After I thoroughly kicked Marshall’s ass in the race, we celebrated my victory at a local sports bar. Ryder and Jayson didn’t drink for obvious reasons since they were driving, but Fallon and I enjoyed a couple of beers together—thank you, fake IDs. At the bar, we sat around, talking and laughing, mostly about the pissed-off look on Marshall’s face after the race. Marshall was forced to hand over the keys to his Camaro to Fallon after he lost. Fallon gave them to the guy whose Mustang I drove. I’m pretty sure that the guy will give the keys back to Marshall, but it was still a hell of a lot of fun to watch Marshall squirm.
About thirty minutes after we arrived at the bar, Julien and Elijah escaped to a dark, secluded corner to talk, and by the end of our evening, they were getting very cozy. Julien left with Elijah sometime before we did. I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one who was going to get laid tonight. As soon as we got back to Ryder’s house, and after Fallon conked out for the night, Ryder and I snuck out and drove to his dad’s auto garage. It was the only place we could think of where we could have some privacy and make as much noise as we wanted to.
“Shirt,” Ryder commands. We already ditched our coats in the car. I rip my top off and shiver, the cold of the garage bay teasing my skin with prickles.
“You too.” And he does. Even in the darkness, my eyes make out the ridges and dips of Ryder’s muscular chest and lower torso. My hands are on him instantly, followed by my mouth. We fight each other for dominance. I’m trying to eat him alive while he’s trying to get my pants off. I lift my hips up from the hood of the car and he yanks my jeans and panties down in one go. I kick them fully off with my feet.
“What car is this?”
Ryder briefly looks down and to the side. “Hellcat.” He zeroes in on my breasts and cradles them, his thumbs moving back and forth over my tight nipples.
I gasp at the sensations his fingers are causing, then start to giggle when what he said registers in my lust-laden brain. “Seriously? A Hellcat? It’s perfect.”
Bending down, he licks up the middle of my chest between my breasts. “No, these are perfect. God, I want you so bad. You were incredible tonight. Watching you drive that car made me so damn hard.” He circles his lips around the circumference of each round globe, then fondles my right nipple with his tongue and flicks my left with his thumb.
“That feels good. Don’t stop.” He doesn’t.
Feeling with my hands, I find the button and zipper of his jeans and undo them. Using the heels of my feet, I jerk the material down to expose that which I have been craving. He has gone commando again and I send up a thrilled yet silent thank you. I grab hold of his shaft and squeeze. He moans. I love it.
“I’m not done with you yet,” Ryder sexily threatens and jerks my hips down the hood of the car. As he does so, he takes both my hands in his and pins them above my head on the hood of the car. The shock of the cold metal is like being hit with static electricity all down my spine. The sensation is wonderful. I squirm under him and hook my feet around his upper thighs just below his butt, arching my body up for him to take.
Stretching me out along the hood, Ryder’s mouth goes on a frenzy of exploration across my skin, my breasts, my stomach, up my clavicle and neck, to my ear, then finally my mouth. I have always loved kissing. There is something very sensual in the way lips move together. Kisses can be soft or hard, dry or wet, tongue or no tongue. The moment when my full lips meet Ryder’s soft ones is such an exhilarating feeling. We open to one another, that first tentative touch of the tips of our tongues, then the soul-wrenching clash and tangles of the dance and glide of our mouths with one another. No one has ever kissed me the way Ryder does.
And kiss me he does. Over and over until I’m panting hard and so aroused, I may go up in flames right here on the hood of the car.
