Hothouse Flower (29 page)

< 43 >

RYKE MEADOWS

We can’t drive in a car all the way to the
Canyonlands
. She’s too hyperactive and ADD—which is an
actual fucking problem right now, even if we joke about it. No matter if I’d
love to finger fuck her all the way there…and with half her body out of that
fucking sunroof.
Fuck.
My cock
despises me right now. I should have let her suck me off in the parking lot before
I went into the store.

She gives amazing head.

But that didn’t feel right. And I usually don’t jump into
things when my gut says
no
.

I shake hands with the sales person, and I step back out
into the parking lot. Sunglasses on, shielding the bright afternoon light from
my eyes. The wind picks up and I pull my leather jacket tighter. It’s getting
fucking cold. But what do you expect from October?

Daisy walks out of the gas station next to the dealership. She
eats a Little Debbie brownie, a shopping bag hung over her right arm while
wearing bright blue, flower-shaped sunglasses that I’ve never seen. They look
like cheap plastic, but they’re really fucking cute on her.

She waves when she sees me and starts walking over.

“Miss me?” she asks.

“I was fucking devastated.”

“You look it.” She nods, and I hook a finger on her plastic
bag and peer into it. Hair dye. Lots of it. I spot pink and purple. I glance up
at her, and she looks a little worried. Maybe she thinks I won’t be into her if
she dyes her hair. But I don’t fucking care about shit like that.

Hair color. Skin color. Big. Small.

I like
her
. Not
the body she comes in.

“Are you indecisive?” I wonder. “It looks like you have the
rainbow in there.”

“Precisely.” She smiles, licking the chocolate off her
fingers. “Unicorns love rainbows. I love unicorns. Therefore thy hair must be a
rainbow.”

“Interesting fucking theory.” I start walking further down
the parking lot and she follows me.

“One of my best?” She catches up to my side.

“No it’s fucking stupid.”

“It can’t be interesting
and
stupid. Those are exclusive.”

“You sound like Rose.” As soon as I say the words, she
brightens. I know she looks up to her sisters, and in a way she reminds me a
little bit of both of them. The rest of her is just Daisy. Just wild.
 

We stop by a black
sportbike
that
I just bought from the dealership. Like I said, we can’t ride in a car anymore.
I have the means to buy a motorcycle to appease Daisy’s restless state, so I’m
going to fucking do it.
 

“We’re riding together?” she asks me with a smile.

“Yeah.” I take her plastic bag and shove it into my
backpack. “You okay with that, sweetheart?”

“Will you let me drive some?”

“I’d let you do whatever you want, as long as you pay
attention so we don’t fucking
highside
.” Last thing I
need is for her to fly off the fucking bike.

“What about
lowside
?” She’s
already done that once before: slid off the back of the motorcycle while it
raced off without her.

“How about we don’t ever fucking crash?”

“But if I crash,” she says, slinging her leg over the seat.
“I’d rather crash with you.”

My brows rise and she smiles bigger, brighter, pulling her
scar. “You tell that to all the guys you’ve hooked up with?” I ask her.

“No,” she says, “because you’re the only one I’ve dated who
rides motorcycles.”

I shake my head. “Your list of pickup lines, sweetheart, is
insane. And I fucking swear you’ve used most of them on me.”

“I have?” she says, eyeing my muscles with a little more
desire than before. I can tell she’s remembering the tent, when we had sex for
the first time. “Looks like they worked.” Her eyes flicker to mine. “I have
you.”

Her bedroom eyes are going to fuck me over like they never
have before. I toss her a white helmet, not alleviating the moment. With us,
the tension will probably stick around for seven whole days.

Everyone is taking their time driving to
Canyonlands
,
so yeah, we have a week.
 

A week alone with Daisy.

For the first time, we’re going to see how we are as a
couple. No restraint. Very little boundaries.

I sense the excitement.

But I also see the trouble.

< 44 >

DAISY CALLOWAY

I don’t mind when I ride behind
Ryke
, on the same seat, not the one steering or revving the
throttle. He speeds as much as I would on a two-lane highway with very little
traffic and no hills in sight. The farm lands we pass remind me that we’re in
the Midwest, heading towards Utah at a leisurely pace.

If he’s tired from sleeping even less than me, he doesn’t
show it. I wrap my arms around his waist, still entranced by him even though
we’re together. I’m drawn to
Ryke
the way penguins
waddle in a group, one following the other, rarely all alone. He’s masculine
and tough and someone who chooses to feed my needs first and his second. I
thought he’d want a twenty-nine-year-old, big breasted girl with lots of makeup
and a tight bandaged dress.

Not eighteen, flat-chested, no makeup and ratty jeans and a
loose fitting tee.

He keeps a lot in his head, and that’s partly the reason I
like him. The mystery of his actions. The danger he wears in his dark eyes.

The motorcycle suddenly slows down to the side of the
highway. I scan the area, just rows and rows of cornstalks, way taller than me.
I take my helmet off at the same time as him. He climbs off the bike, not
saying a word, but I watch him with pure intrigue, my curiosity peaking.

“Why’d we stop?” I ask.

I think I might know why. This week is already crazy for us.
Our first unrestrained time together, and like I had always fantasized, we’re
making up for the years we wasted on waiting.

He turns off the ignition and kicks out the stand while I’m
still on the bike. And then his eyes meet mine, and they start a slow descent
down my body, his chest rising in a deep, lustful inhale.

I smile. “You want to fuck me?”

With that darkness, he says, “I want to fuck you.”

Ohhhhh
.
The spot between my leg pulses. I
climb off the bike and start to walk backwards while he follows me.

The cornstalks brushing my face as I enter the field. I want
him to chase me. “Do you think you can catch me?” I ask in a silky breath.

He almost smiles. “I’ll give you a head start.”

I grin and then I spin around and take off, my blood
pumping, my heart racing, my hands whipping through the stalks as I pass.

It’s beautiful. The sun is hoisted in the perfectly blue
sky, clouds rolling over to cool the heat. A gentle breeze. This is a moment
that you’d find in your dreams—a place that you’d never think you’d be.

And
Ryke
took me here.

I don’t know how far I go, but it’s not long before he finds
me, scooping me up in his arms and kissing me with aggressive, thirsty passion.
I kiss back with the same vigor, a cry escaping as his body melds with mine. I
lift off his shirt and unbutton his pants with excitement, and then he starts
to slow down. When his lips part from mine, I sense that he’s stuck inside his
head.

“What?” I ask, using the extra time to give much needed
oxygen to my lungs.

“It’s just something I’ve been thinking about…”

This doesn’t sound good. “It’s not about the… period stuff,
is it?”
Shut up, Daisy.
“I’m on birth
control. Everything’s fine now, you know that.”

“Dais, it’s not that.” He draws me to his chest and whispers
in my ear, “Have you let a guy go down on you before?”

I don’t want him to think I’m inexperienced or too young to
love. But I also don’t want to lie, so I try to brush this one off. “Have you
let a guy go down on you?” I ask him the same question with a playful smile.

“No,” he says. He tilts my chin up so I’m looking at him. I
didn’t even realize I was avoiding his gaze. “It’s okay if you haven’t.”

“It’s not that I haven’t wanted to,” I explain, courage
building to tell him the truth. “It’s just that no guy has offered before.”

His jaw hardens in a severe line, really sexy even if he’s
half pissed at these phantom guys that exist in my past. He ends up unbuttoning
my shorts, staring down at me with a new determination. “Did someone offer to
backdoor you?”

Ack
…this answer, I don’t like it
either. “Number six,” I say. “I tried it once, and honestly I don’t ever want
to try it again.” It hurt like hell. I think I cried it was so painful. Like
actual tears.

“I wasn’t going to fucking suggest it,” he says. “I’m just
irritated that number
six
would do
that before even going down on you.” He slides my panties to my ankles. I don’t
know what he plans on doing with me; he won’t say.

He’s in his black boxer-briefs, and I pull my shirt over my
head, stripping completely. It’s different being in the daylight doing this
with him. It feels real, not heightened by nighttime hormones or our closeness
as we sleep. It’s just us. On an adventure. Together. Trying to fully figure
each other out, no barriers this time.

He steps out of his underwear, and my gaze drops to his
package almost immediately.
I can’t
believe that was inside of me
is my first gut reaction. My second:
I hope it happens again. Soon.

I close some of the distance between us and run my hands up
his abs, across his tattoo and chest. He looks at me the same way he did when
he climbed off the motorcycle.
Want
glimmering
in his eyes. His hands settle on my hips, his touch quickening my heart. And
like I weigh nothing, he lifts me up on his
shoulders.
Not his waist.

I smile wide, my legs dangling against his back, and he
skillfully kisses the spot between my legs, his hand on my ass, his tongue
doing things to a place that loves this new sensation. My head peeks through
the cornstalks, able to see the cars whizz by on the street that we abandoned.

I tense and my mouth falls as he licks a sensitive spot. I
grip his hair, my hands on his head for support. “
Ryke
,”
I cry. “What…” I want to say
what the
hell? Have you done this like
this
before?
I’ve never seen this happen. On his shoulders. Legs open. His mouth right
there. Not even in R-rated movies.

That’s because this is
reserved for the NC-17 stuff. Duh.

Heat gathers on my neck. “Fuck,” I cry.

I can feel him smiling. Yeah, I guess he is a bad influence
on me sometimes. But I know the opposite is true too.

I prefer being on his shoulders to the way he went down on
the girl in his bedroom. This is better. Sexier. More fun.

He squeezes my ass, and his tongue—

Ahhhh
!
I moan, which turns into another cry,
gasping repeatedly with that sound. All thoughts are deserted. All that’s left
is need for something fuller between my legs. Something hard.

My noises get to
Ryke
because he
ends up sliding me down from his shoulders to his waist. I hold onto the back
of his neck with both of my hands, still a mess from that.

“Whoa,” I say with a tight voice, breathing heavy. His eyes
consume my whole being, and he uses one hand to brace me to his body, the other
to push his erection deep, deep inside of me.

There’s a slight pinch when he fills me entirely, but the
pain dissipates when he’s all in. Another high-pitched sound escapes.

“
Fuck
,” he curses,
the word so sexual and heady off his tongue.

He begins to fuck me standing up, his body and strength
doing most of the work, thrusting into me while I meet him with my hips a
couple times. But really, I can’t keep up with
Ryke
in this position. He’s stronger and has an easy time forcing me upright and
pounding hard against me.

I clutch him so tightly, my body bouncing on his cock, my
head dizzy. The pressure so
freakin
’ wonderful. The
sensations too powerful to describe. I am floating. Rising. Towards the bright
blue sky.

“
Ryke
,” I start again, and my
sharp gasps return, piercing cries attached that come in succession. “
Ahhh
…
ahhhh
…
”
Oh God. Oh God.

“Dais,” he groans, one of his hands on the back of my head.
“
Fuck.
”

Fuck is right.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuuuuckkk
.
Oh my God. He jerks forward, coming
inside of me, and I tighten around his cock, clenching over and over, riding a
wave to the shore. He holds me as I slow down, as I gather my breath, and he
rubs the back of my head, gentle with me, even after a pretty rough and deep
moment.

I don’t want to disentangle from him. I don’t even want to
go back to the motorcycle anytime soon. He appeases my silent command by
setting me on his bike jacket, flattening some of the cornstalks. He kisses me
from above, though he does pull out. His lips and tongue move with more
affection and care, and I rest my hand on his bare bottom, spreading my legs on
either side of him.

I’m not sure how long we kiss. All I know is that I could do
this forever with
Ryke
.

He skims his thumb across my bottom lip, and his eyes rake
over my features with fondness, a look that I’ve never seen from him before.

“What are you thinking?” I whisper. We’re alone in the
middle of a cornfield, but it seems too peaceful to talk loudly.

“I love this,” he breathes, kissing my cheek, the one with
the scar, as though it’s perfect just the way it is.

My chest rises. “The sex?”

He shakes his head. “No,
this.
Right now.” He kisses me again and then says, “But I do fucking love
the sex.”

I smile. “You’re not too bad at it.”

His brows pinch together like
yeah?
“Not too bad? Do we have a recording of your fucking voice?”

“You mean this voice?” I arch my back a little and cry,
gasping with the same unraveling pleasure, though there is a slight difference
in my fake orgasm and the real one. My voice cuts off shorter every time
Ryke
takes me hard, and here it’s more drawn out. “
Ryke
,
ahhh
…” My chest rises and falls heavily, like I struggle to
breathe.

He sits on his knees, watching me, and then he hardens,
turned on. The fakeness in my body starts to switch into real, dramatic
feelings.
Ahhh
…I
moan a desperate moan.

Thankfully he doesn’t make me beg for it or admit my
sarcasm. He just drives his erection between my legs, filling me again. He
pumps with a melodic rhythm, his forearm resting a little bit above my head,
staring down at me as my noises tickle my throat.

It’s way too much. Every single nerve is lit up. “I can’t…”
I moan.

He slows, and his cheek brushes mine as he whispers in my
ear, “Yes, you can…you’re going to feel it.”

Not long after his words leave, my eyes roll back, and the
most intense, mind-numbing sensation washes over me, heart-stopping feelings
that transport me somewhere else. I can’t even scream. It’s so insane that my
mouth opens and the sound is stripped from my throat.

When I come down, exhausted, he lifts me in his arms and
sets me on his lap. I don’t have the energy to do that again, but I know he
does. I glance down. Oh. He climaxed with me, and I hadn’t even noticed. He
just holds me in his arms, wiping the sweaty hair off my face.

“I don’t understand how I can go from never having an orgasm
to
that
,” I whisper. He must be a
god. A sex god. And he’s been sent to me from the heavens.

He has a more logical answer. “Generally when you’re not
attracted to the person you’re with, Dais, you’re not going to get off.”

I turn my head and look up at him. “You know what this
means?”

His brows harden, and I can tell he’s expecting a joke and
my normal theatrics. “What?”

I smile with sincerity. “I am very, very attracted to you.”

The corner of his lips rise. “Funny, I’m also attracted to
you. What are we going to do about that?”

“Make love and make babies.”

His brows shoot up. “You already want to make babies with
me, Calloway?”

“I want to do lots of things with you.” I use a very diplomatic
response, walking on a thin rope with this subject. I have no idea where his
head lies. His thoughts could match his brother’s. Lo doesn’t want children
because alcoholism is hereditary. Lily told me his stance on the matter. Well,
really she told Rose and I was in the same room, and I kind of, sort of,
inserted myself into the conversation. I realize that sounds annoying, but I
just want to be close to them before they move away and start families.

He kisses my lips, his tongue easily slipping into my mouth
and sliding against mine, and then he breaks apart and says, “Me too.” He
stands, setting me on my feet. And he grabs his underwear and jeans, beginning
to dress. I gather my clothes and watch him with curiosity. I didn’t think I
would care this much about his feelings on children, but I am dying to find
out.

“You know I was joking about the babies,” I say, slipping my
panties on. He hands me my shirt, and the tension of this conversation
constricts my lungs. He doesn’t let much through his dark gaze, which makes
this hard. “But I’m curious…”

“You’re always curious,” he says, messing my hair with a
rough hand.

“I’m
really, really
curious.”
I smile. “Are you hoping to get married and have kids one day?”

He pulls his T-shirt over his head and grabs his bike jacket
off the ground, shaking the dirt off it. And then he runs a hand through his
hair, a giveaway that my question makes him a tad bit anxious. “I’m not like my
little brother, if that’s what you’re wondering,” he says, putting his jacket
on. “I do think alcohol may be an issue for whatever fucking kid I have, but
this disease isn’t going to take anything away from me. I won’t let it.”