Page 25

T he knock on the door instantly sends my stomach into knots.

I know it’s Ryder, and it’ll be the first time I’ve seen him in person since we agreed to this whole friends-with-benefits thing.

I don’t know how this works.

I’m not sure if he’ll strut in and pull his dick out and say, Honey, I’m home.

Climb aboard . Or if we’ll actually just hang out as friends tonight.

To be candid, I’m hoping for a mix of both.

When I pull the door open, it takes me a minute to speak as I simply stare at the man before me.

“Umm … I guess I should have used the peephole?” I put on my best sketched-out face, trying to contain my amusement.

“Ry-Ry, your disguise is terrible.” I snort at his pair of fake glasses, stick-on mustache, and a hat pulled low on his head.

I don’t think anyone is going to know who he is—that’s for damn sure.

“You love it—don’t even lie,” he drawls.

“You’re totally digging it.”

“I find you equal parts creepy and cute,” I deadpan.

“And even I’m not entirely sure how you pulled that off.”

“Creepy?” He sighs.

“It’s the mustache, isn’t it? I took it too far.”

“I think so, Cambridge. I think so.” I nod before reaching up and brushing my finger against it.

“You kind of look like an ’80s porn star, and I think I’m going to call you Howard.”

“Laugh it up. I’m tellin’ you, the people of New York are not fans of the Bay Shark boys after that last game.” He widens his eyes dramatically.

“You should have a disguise too. Your brother literally punched someone in the face.”

“What, should I slap on a ’stache too?” I bite my lip to stop laughing, my eyes roaming over his face.

“You know what? I think I’ll take my chances.”

“Suit yourself. I think I look sexy.” He shrugs.

“In fact, I don’t know how many women you’ll have to fight off to make sure you’re the one kissing these lips at midnight. Gonna be hard, Sail-On. I’m a hot commodity, and I’m not sure you’ll be up for the challenge.”

My soul feels light, just like it always does when I’m with Ryder.

Things are just … easy.

Every time we’re together, we’re laughing or attacking each other to get naked.

No matter what we’re doing, it’s a good time.

That’s how friendships should be though, minus the naked part.

Most friends I know keep their clothes on.

If you took out the “benefits” part, we really are just two good friends, having a nice time.

That’s exactly what I need.

“It’s good to see you again, Ryder,” I finally say, still grinning my cheeks off before I step back and wave him inside the hotel room.

“Come in and check out the room you hooked us up with.”

For Ryder, this will be a bit of a rushed trip because he can only hang out with me till just after midnight before he has to catch a flight back to Maine.

That way, he makes it to practice tomorrow morning.

It was sort of crazy for him to come here when we’re only going to be able to hang out for six hours.

Yet here he is.

Smile on his face and all.

Once he walks in, I head toward the window like a little kid.

“Look. Can you even believe it? We can see the ball dropping from here.” I pause, realizing that probably sounds like I have plans for us to stay in tonight.

“Not like we’ll be in here, but you know what I mean.”

“Stop trying to get me naked, would you? I have my ’stache and my glasses, and I’m ready to party.” He tsks me before walking up to the window.

“Shit, this is actually closer than I thought.”

“I know, right? I sent Gemma a picture, and she couldn’t believe it.”

A sad smile tugs at my lips.

Despite being happy to be here, I miss Gem.

When we were kids, my mom would always get us a bottle of sparkling cider and a ton of snacks.

We’d do each other’s makeup and nails and watch movies.

Even when we were in high school and got invited to parties, we’d just stay in.

That was our tradition.

I’m glad things are working out for her and Smith, but I’d give anything for things to go back to how they used to be before she left for California.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t be the one to pull her out of the darkness she was in; she needed to do it herself with my brother by her side.

“Whatcha thinking about?” he says, taking a few steps toward the bed and sitting down on the edge of it.

“And before you say nothing, just know I’m not buying it.”

“Just thinking about Gemma,” I whisper, taking a seat beside him.

“It’s funny because if she were here with me, we’d joke that this was close enough for us to come up here if we got tired of peopling. Which we undoubtedly would, especially her.” I swing my feet softly at the foot of the bed.

“We’d probably scroll on our phones, order in junk food, and rot in bed until it was time to watch the ball drop.”

“And then you’d go back down to the crowd?” he asks curiously.

“Probably not.” I bark out a laugh.

“We’d likely watch it from the window and then cheers together before climbing back into bed.”

I don’t just think that’s what we’d do; I know we would.

We’re basic. And unlike how I might like to be perceived—as someone who is over the top and demands attention—when it comes to Gemma and me, things never need to be complicated or extravagant.

If we have each other, we’re going to have a good time.

“She’s your best friend,” he says gently.

“And you miss her.”

“No, she’s my soulmate,” I say truthfully.

“And, yeah, I do.”

For once, I’m talking about something that’s deeper than a puddle, and yet I’m not squirming because I’m uncomfortable.

It’s not like that when I’m with Ryder, and the silence between us isn’t awkward, even though I sense he’s thinking of how to respond.

“So, let me get this straight … you’d rather not be down there, in the crowd. Yet, on your bucket list, you wrote you wanted to watch the ball drop in Times Square.” He’s clearly as amused as he is puzzled.

“You’re baffling as hell, Saylor Sawyer—you know that?”

“I’m not interesting enough to be baffling,” I say lightheartedly yet truthfully.

“But yes. Watching the celebration on TV all these years? It always looks so fun. Now that I’m here …”

“It looks overwhelming?” he guesses, and I nod once.

“A little, yes. But have no fear. I’m going to get my jacket and my hat and mittens on, and I’ll be ready to go. It’ll be fun.” I offer him an apologetic look.

“I’m sorry if it sounded like I was complaining. I swear, I really do want to be here. And I really, really appreciate you doing this for me.” I look toward the window.

“This is a dream of mine—to be here on this night. And because of you, I get to be.”

I feel bad that I said all of that, and now he probably thinks he wasted his time and money to get me here when that’s the last thing I want him to feel like.

I do want to be here, and I know this will be a New Year’s Eve I’ll always remember.

And not likely just because of the location either.

“Well, what if we didn’t go down there?” he throws at me, as if reading my mind.

“What if we stayed inside and ordered room service?”

I look back at him because, though I don’t hear any annoyance in his tone, I want to see the look on his face for myself.

Instead of irritation, he’s offering me the sweetest grin.

“Oh, and you can scroll away,” he adds lightheartedly.

“Can’t forget scrolling on socials.”

“Ryder, that’s … so nice of you to offer, but you came all this way.” I wave my hand around.

“And you got us this amazing room so that we could be close to the ball drop.”

“And we will be.” He jerks his chin toward outside, his grin broadening.

“We can watch it from the window. Hell, pretty sure we could see it from the bed.”

The word bed has me sucking in a breath, even though he probably didn’t even mean anything sexual by it.

The truth is, I don’t know what to expect from this night.

I don’t know what he’s hoping for either.

“Really? You’re sure?” I whisper, leaning in a little closer.

“Like, really, really sure?”

I am the girl who likes to go out and have a good time, but sometimes, even the most outgoing people don’t want to be around a crowd.

Tonight, I just want to enjoy this night from our quiet, incredible room.

I just can’t believe Ryder is insisting we do just that after traveling this way, but I ignore the squeezing sensation in my chest because we’re only friends.

“Fuck yeah. I’ll be your Gemma tonight. Only, you know … at some point, I’d like to take my clothes off.” His grin remains as he points at his mustache.

“Does this mean I can lose this thing?”

I cringe, nodding my head.

“Yeah, if you want any chance of me getting me naked, lose the ’stache and the glasses.” I shrug.

“Though I will say, it is giving me Riley Green vibes, and you know how I feel about that man.” I fan myself.

“So, maybe you should keep it on and start singing country songs and then ask me to sit on your face.”

His eyes narrow, and quickly, he rips it off.

“Only face you’re sitting on, Brat, is mine, as myself,” he growls, pulling the glasses off.

“Fuck Riley Green and his perfect mustache.”

Despite our stupidly childish exchange, once his goofy disguise is gone, my mouth waters, and the air between us thickens.

There’s a magnetic pull coming from his body, begging mine to come closer, but I fight it and keep my feet planted.

When his eyes darken and his grin turns into more of a smirk, I know he feels it too.

“I saw the shower when I booked the place. Looked pretty massive,” he drawls, slow and deep.

“Before we do this whole bed-rotting thing … probably wouldn’t be a bad idea to shower.”

“Right,” I croak.

“Best to get nice and clean before we put on our pajamas. Wouldn’t you say?”

“Well, I would,” he says slyly.

“But I don’t have any pajamas, Saylor.”

That sends my brain into a frenzy—imagining him in bed, completely naked.

Before I know it, his fleece is off, and he’s tugging the bottom of his shirt until it’s over his head, exposing his lickable abs and incredibly delectable V-line.

When his fingers move to the button of his jeans, I can’t help but stare.

He keeps a cocky grin on his lips because he knows exactly what he’s doing to me right now.

And as he unbuttons them, pushes the zipper down, and shoves them over his hips, even through his briefs, his dick stands tall, completely ready for me.

We’re both playing with fire.

And while it’s fun and entertaining right now, I know soon, I’ll be facing some serious burns.

And when I do, I’ll only have myself to blame.

Yet still, here I am, desperately pulling my clothes off to match his bareness.

Because the sooner we’re both naked, the sooner I get to feel him inside of me again.

She’s not taking her clothes off fast enough, so I help her out, tearing them from her body.

I’m a starved man, and she’s the only thing I want.

I unclasp her bra, and the second it falls to the floor, her hard pink nipples beg for my mouth to be on them.

Leaning forward, I bring one into my mouth, circling my tongue around it when a moan comes from her lips.

Pulling back, I let my eyes roam down her incredible body.

My cock pulsates in my briefs at the sight before me.

I put my hands under her ass cheeks and lift her up with ease, tossing her over my shoulder.

I walk us into the bathroom, and I reach into the shower, turning it on hot.

Eagerness gets the best of me, and I can’t wait for the water to warm.

Instead, I sit her ass down on the side of the countertop, next to the sink, and stand between her legs.

Her smooth, warm legs wrap around my waist, and through my briefs, my cock aches to nudge against her heat, knowing how fucking ready she always is for my dick.

I capture her lips with mine, cupping her nape with my hand to force her mouth harder against my own.

Her tongue slides into my mouth, and a rough, gritty moan escapes her throat.

“Christ, you’re so fucking wet; I can practically feel your pussy dripping against my briefs, baby,” I growl against her lips.

“Tell me, how many times did you take one of those toys out of your nightstand since I left last week?”

I fucked my hand multiple times, just imagining her in her bed, legs spread while she fucked herself.

“How many, Brat?” I snarl, tightening my hold on her neck slightly.

“And don’t you dare lie to me! Tell me how greedy this pussy is.”

“Every night,” she whines against my lips.

“Sometimes in the morning too.”

“Such a greedy little slut for my cock, aren’t you, Saylor?” I hiss, worrying that I might be taking it too far, but when she grinds her pussy against me harder, I know she’s more than okay with it.

“Yes,” she whispers in agony.

Reaching between us, I slide my fingers inside of her, and just like I knew, she’s fucking soaked.

I pump in and out a few times, my cock throbbing at the moans coming from her lips.

“I can’t fucking wait to come inside of you tonight, right before I go back to Maine. That way, my cum will be leaking from your pussy, even after I’m gone, reminding you of how much you love this fat cock fucking you.” Pulling my hand from between her legs, I bring my fingers to my mouth and rake my tongue up them.

“So fucking sweet, baby.”

She drags in a few shaky breaths, peeking at me through her lashes with a serious look on her face.

“What are you waiting for? Are you going to fuck me or not?”

My dick jumps because there’s nothing hotter to me than when she’s bossy or assertive.

She’s a fucking queen, and she knows it too.

“Patience, Brat,” I coo, sliding my palms down her thighs.

Lifting her roughly, I step us into the shower and shove her back against the wall before dropping to my knees.

Instinctively, she lifts one leg and props it on my shoulder, exposing her perfect pussy to me and nearly begging for me to lick it.

I drive my face between her thighs, and her fingers waste no time digging into my scalp and yanking on my hair.

“Oh … fuck,” she whines, grinding against my tongue.

The shower sprays down over us, hitting my back as I work my tongue against her heat.

Sliding my hand to the back of her leg, I work it further up until my fingertip grazes her ass.

I continue eating her pussy, rolling my tongue against her clit to earn myself more moans.

When she doesn’t push my hand away, I gently push my fingertip inside, but just barely.

Slowly working it in, little by little, careful not to hurt her.

As my finger gets deeper and I work it in and out in the same rhythm as my tongue against her pussy, her grip on my hair gets tighter.

“Fuck, Ry—Ryder …” she grits out, and I can feel her heat begin to clench around my tongue.

Her hips thrust against me, riding my face harder and faster as she screams out loudly.

The sensation of her ass clenching my finger and her pussy pulsing against my tongue is too fucking much, and within seconds, my balls tingle, and my head spins as she nears the end of her climax.

My cum explodes from my dick, spilling into the shower and onto my thigh.

All from fingering her ass and eating her out.

When we’ve both finished, slowly, I pull my hand back and set her leg down from my shoulder.

“Did you just …” The words die in her throat as she stares down at my thigh just before the water washes me clean.

Standing up, I grin down at her makeup smeared face.

“Well, that’s a first for me.” I smirk, still baffled.

“I’ve never come without having my dick actually touched or sucked before.”

“Looks like we’re even now,” she coos, her eyes sleepy from her orgasm.

“Now what?”

“Now, I’m going to wash your hair before we order our five thousand pounds of food.”

I start to spin her to face away from me, but her eyebrows knit together.

“Don’t you think that’s too … you know, romantic?”

“Has Gemma ever washed your hair?” I raise a brow.

Her eyes move between mine curiously.

“Well, yeah. But not when we were naked.”

“Well, consider it the same thing.” I shrug.

“Spin around, Brat. Time’s ticking, and I’ve never washed someone’s hair before. Might take me a minute.”