Ride My Beard (Hot-Bites 2)

“I was only doing my job,” I defend quietly, wondering what he would do if I ran my fingers through his long hair and pushed it off of his face.

“You nearly got yourself raped,” he says, his lips almost curling in distaste and I hate that he is looking at me like that.

“I didn’t, though. You saved me,” I tell him, trying to hold onto my pride.

“Only by chance. Another five minutes and I wouldn’t have been here. If you’re going to hold down a job like this, little girl, you can’t be stupid,” he growls at me again and his condescending words and tone spur my anger.

“I’m fine,” I mumble, feeling foolish for thinking he was planning on kissing me. Clearly he wasn’t. I was delusional.

“You need a fucking keeper,” he growls, raking his hands through his hair in frustration.

“Well, I don’t have one. I never have and unless you’re planning on taking the job, I better get back to work,” I huff.

I go to step around him so I can go back inside the bar. I take about three steps before he reaches out and grabs my arm, pulling me close to him.

“I don’t know what kind of boys you are used to, but you need to take care how you talk to a man, little one,” he warns, his voice dropping down into a deep timbre that sends shivers of awareness all through me.

“Ryker—”

“Before one teaches you exactly what to do with that mouth,” he interrupts, his voice almost a growl. His thumb traces over the bottom of my lip. I can’t stop myself from opening my mouth enough so that the tip of his thumb is right there. I’m dying to suck that digit into my mouth. What would he do?

Instead, I let the tip of my tongue lick against it, tasting his skin. We’re standing so close that I can imagine it, and the deep hue in his eyes seems to deepen in color. I could get lost in the inky black depths. His pupils dilate, and I might be a novice but I can hear the change in his breathing. He’s excited. I’m exciting him.

“Are you volunteering for the job?” I ask him, my heart pounding, my voice sounding as breathless as I feel.

He stares at me a moment. Mentally I’m screaming at him to say yes, to do something, anything to relieve this ache inside of me. For a moment I really think he’s going to. I envision him pushing me up against the side of the building and fucking me raw. My legs tremble from the very thought of it. And then…

“You don’t know what you’re inviting. Run back inside before you get yourself into trouble, Lola. You’re not ready for what I would do to you.”

His words make me ache; they make my heart clench painfully. I want to argue with him. I almost do, because I can see the interest in his eyes and I see the hard outline of his dick against his jeans. I’m close to asking him to show me what he’d do—begging him to make me his. Then Tina’s words come back to me and I feel fear.

What if she’s right? What if he’s right? I’m a virgin. I might know what a man and woman do with each other, I might even dream of doing that with Ryker, but when it came down to it, would I panic? Would I disappoint him? What if I wasn’t enough for him?

“Lola, you okay out here?” my boss yells from the door, interrupting us. My gaze stays locked on Ryker.

“Yeah, I’m fine. The damn trash bag ripped open.” I lie easily, not wanting to admit what just happened.

“Leave it. I’ll have one of the guys pick it up. Get back in here where you’re safe. I don’t like you being out here alone too long.”

“You better go,” Ryker says, and I nod my head in agreement. Disappointment curls in my stomach and I think I see it flashing in Ryker’s eyes too.

“Maybe if you explained what you expected from me first, I wouldn’t be scared at all, Ryker. I really don’t think I would be—but only if it was you,” I whisper, feeling a little out of my depth. Handling drunks and warding off men is one thing. Admitting to the one man I’ve always loved that I want him—even if I am clueless—is quite another.

I walk back to the bar and step inside, carefully closing the door. My mind is too consumed with doubts and fears. It makes it hard to breathe. I don’t look at Ryker. I’m afraid of what I’ll see on his face. Or worse, what he would say about my admission.

I hope I see him tomorrow. I hope I didn’t push him away forever. I don’t think I could handle it if I did. I need him to be here in the bar tomorrow. I need him to talk to me. Because the only thing I’m sure of in my whole, messed-up life is that I want Ryker Stone to be the man to take my virginity. I want him to be my first, to show me everything he knows about sex, because I’m tired of being a virgin.