Taming Ryder (Souls of the Knight 2)

“Don’t expect to either.” Holy fuck, saying that out loud hurt. My chest stung at the thought of never seeing him again, as if a vinegar doused knife had sliced straight through my heart.

“Maybe you should call him?”

“I tried that.” Several times. “He’s not interested.”

“Jeez, sorry, man.”

I smiled, though it didn’t reach my eyes. “Matt still in bed?” I asked. I knew the answer of course but welcomed a subject change.

“Guess so. Doubt we’ll see him before noon.”

Turning on the faucet, Alex began filling the coffee machine. It was then we heard sniffling, swiftly followed by a small blonde woman barreling down the stairs. She shot past us with her shoes in her hand before either of us could ask if she was okay, then when Matt appeared just seconds later, our eyes shot straight to him.

“What happened?” I asked, cocking my head in the direction the girl went.

“I asked her to leave. Think I upset her.”

“Um, yeah I’m pretty sure you did. Were you a jerk to her?” Alex pressed with an almost scolding expression.

“No!” Matt insisted. “Not really. She wanted to go for round three when she woke up, but to be honest I don’t even remember rounds one and two. She was boring me so I said I had a headache and she should go.”

“Dude, you could’ve worded it better. A headache is the lamest excuse ever.”

“So I should’ve said ‘You’re boring and uglier than I remember. Get the fuck outta my house’?”

“You could’ve at least given her a fake number or something. Let her wait till she got home before she cried.”

“Okay I get it. I’m an ass. Now I need coffee.”

“Just putting it on,” Alex said, pointing toward the coffee maker.

Matt took a seat on a breakfast stool and stretched his arms above his head, letting out an impressive yawn. He hadn’t had a chance to speak another word when he was startled by a bang upstairs.

“What the fuck was that?” he shrieked, jumping up from his stool.

“Oh, that’ll be Ryan,” Alex explained, biting his bottom lip and looking a little guilty. “Who the fuck is Ryan?”

“He came home with me last night. I was gonna ask you if it was okay, but it was late and you were…busy.” Matt shrank back a little, his face visibly heating. “Hey, I’m sorry. I really didn’t think you’d mind.”

“I don’t fucking mind. Why’d you think I’d fucking mind? Why the fuck would I mind?”

“Maybe because you can’t stop saying fuck?”

“I just need a fucking coffee,” he grumbled, sinking back onto his stool.

Alex looked over at me, widening his eyes as if to ask me what the hell had gotten into Matt. I shrugged, quite surprised by his reaction myself.

“Anyone heard from Ry?” It seemed Matt was worried about him too. We all were, and the strangest part was I would bet my life Ryder didn’t have a damn clue how much he meant to any of us.

“Elle saw him a couple of days ago. He was higher than a fucking kite apparently.”

“But he’s doing okay?”

“No. I don’t think he’s okay.” And it killed me that there wasn’t a single thing I could do about it.

“You should call him.”

Refusing to have the same conversation I had with Alex, and Elle the day before, I stood up from my stool. “I’m gonna head to the gym. I’ll catch you guys later.”

I left without giving them a chance to reply. Stomping up the stairs as if trying to take out all my frustrations through my feet, I ran to my room to pick up my gym bag. Then I headed out for the day, planning to exercise until the point where I was too physically exhausted to think.

Chapter Eight

~Ryder~

“I DON’T BOTTOM,” I growled into the guy’s ear. I picked him up in a bar a few minutes earlier and took him straight to the hotel two doors down the street. I didn’t have a clue who he was and I didn’t care.

“Ah come on. That’s not true. I’ve seen you,” he said with a suggestive smirk. “I’ve fantasized about fucking that hot ass of yours for months.”

“I don’t bottom,” I reaffirmed, my voice curt, before attacking his mouth, muting his reply.

I fucked him fast and hard, using poppers to heighten my orgasm and make me woozy enough to forget who he was during that pivotal moment. Once I’d come I couldn’t be bothered helping him finish, so instead I pulled out, discarded my condom and waited for him to do it himself.

“Can I have your number?” he asked, his expression eager while I pulled my pants back on.

“No point. I won’t answer your calls.”

“Jesus. You’re an asshole!”

“I promised you nothing.” I shrugged, picking up his clothes from the floor and tossing them at him. “You need to leave. I got shit to do.”