Page 20 of For Puck’s Sake (Seattle Vipers #2)

NINETEEN

brEA

“ C um for me, Luna,” Ridley mumbles, words lost to his groans of pleasure. With his face buried in the crook of my neck, one arm is braced on the bed, while the other is wrapped around my waist holding me close. Our bodies are soaked with sweat, the top sheet and blankets lay in a pile on the floor beside the bed, and the intoxicating scent of our lovemaking lingers in the air. Well, I think lovemaking went out the window at about three a.m. Now we’re fucking pure and simple.

Ridley rolls his hips, hitting my G-spot with every thrust, slamming into me so hard I gasp for air. I cling to him, legs wrapped around his waist, my heels dig into the top of his ass, urging him deeper. As if he can read my lust addled mind he shifts, fucking me so deep I can feel him in my throat.

Ridley groans with satisfaction as pure filth falls from his lips. “Oh Luna, you were made to take my dick, baby. I want to live in this pussy. Paint your walls with my cum, permanently leave my mark inside you. You love the way I make you feel, love the way I fuck you, don’t you, Angel.”

Moaning and panting my mouth opens and closes as I try to find my words. “Ridley! I love the way you fuck me. Fuck! Yes!” I cry out, back arching in pleasure, gripping his muscular biceps with one hand, while I fist the fitted sheet like my life depends on it.

“Oh, Angel, you’re only going to make my dick harder. You know I love your praise,” he says, leaning forward he catches my swaying nipple between his teeth.

Sucking in a hiss between my teeth, my cries become screams of ecstasy as he bites, sucks, and soothes my sensitive flesh. The sensation is too much and not enough at the same time. “Ridley. I can’t,” I whine, my chest heaves, completely depleted, unable to take any more. Releasing my nipple with a pop he continues to speak. “I know baby,” he croons. “I don’t think this pussy can take much more. You’re close, Luna. Give me one more, Angel. Cum for me!” he commands as he shifts from rolling to grinding his hips, hitting my overstimulated clit, sending a bolt of lightning to every nerve ending in my body.

Throwing my head back, I let go, screaming my release, no longer caring if the entire lake can hear me. I cum so hard my entire body shakes uncontrollably as Ridley continues to pound into me until he comes with my name on his lips.

“Brea, baby, I love you, Angel,” he says as his lips find mine in a soft languid kiss, a complete contrast to the relentless punishment my poor pussy has undergone for hours. The kiss is tender, with so much love and reverence I’m having to fight back tears. Happy tears, reunited tears, soul-mending tears, oh, hell, I don’t know. I can never fight my body’s reaction to the man on top of me.

This has been our routine for the past two weeks. Ridley and I have spent every night together since the night I finally stayed over with him. During the day Ridley goes to the community center for hockey camp, while I teach my music class, followed by a packed schedule of interviews and meetings arranged by the record label. When night falls, I’m back on stage at Red’s with Ridley in his now favorite seat at the center table in the front row. Most of the time he’s alone, sometimes he’s accompanied by Bast, his assistant, Derrick, and Devan. Then, we come back to Tor’s and can’t keep our hands off each other. We are insatiable, and I’ve loved every minute of it. I’m exhausted, but I’m in a state of blissed out madness. I don’t want to let go of the delirious exhilaration of this high. The high I only get from Ridley Masters. I’m an addict.

Like all highs, the come down is fast approaching, and I’m not ready to go through the withdrawal that Ridley’s absence from my life will bring on. The closer I get to my departure date, the busier I’ve become. The end of summer is approaching too fast, and I’m being pulled in so many directions, I may need to be cloned, if that’s even possible.

The label insisted I travel with a wardrobe team, so I’ve had fittings to discuss outfits for each night. I tried to convince them it wasn’t something I needed but was quickly shot down. Honestly, all the extras don’t sit well with me. I’m a low-key performer, give me a spotlight, a chair, and Bessie and I’m ready to sing my heart out. The Lady Gaga level quick changes and all the flair is not me at all. But this is my first tour, I can’t complain, I can only hope for more control in the future, right?

Every city has been mapped out, my days planned with military precision, not a minute is spared for me to have a moment to myself. They had me start my tour in Lark Bay as a way to ease me into things, but being here is a poor representation of what I’m going to face when I’m on the actual road. Being back home, performing, being with Ridley every day and every night has spoiled me, made me want things I’m not sure are attainable. I’m beginning to regret signing my record deal but I quickly squash those thoughts because this is what I wanted. This is what I sacrificed for when I walked away from the man I loved years ago. This is my life now. Repeat it long enough.

“Angel,” Ridley’s sleepy voice reaches me through my turbulent thoughts. I turn my head and glance over at bright blue eyes laced with concern. Had I been so lost in thoughts I didn’t register him rolling off me and laying me down on the bed?

Focus. I need to breathe. The last thing I need is for him to think I’m having negative thoughts about us. Far from it. I’m trying to figure out how we can have it all; hockey, music, love, and a lifetime together. I just wish there wasn’t so much shit in the way of it all. The gossip mill is already brewing after pictures were leaked of us last week outside of Red’s. The pictures went viral and now we are everywhere. Let’s just say Lark Bay has had a surplus of additional tourists the last few days. I’ve had no choice but to read the comments, good and bad, about the outcome of our relationship. I’ve been weighed and measured by the puck bunny posse, and I’ve been found wanting. Apparently I’m the villain in our rekindled relationship. Does all the unfounded speculation fuck with my head? Hell yes, it does. I thought I had developed tough skin after the fallout two years ago, but this heart of mine is battered and bruised, fragile and easily hurt. Not going to lie, it has been a lot to handle.

I give him a soft smile, cuddling closer until he pulls me into his chest. “What’s going on in that head of yours?” He yawns, tucking my head under his chin to pull us closer. The proximity is comforting, reassuring me that regardless of the noise of the outside world, it’s just him and me.

“Everything. The tour, our last week together, the brutality of social media, my parents, us,” I say with a sigh. “Nothing is easy right now. I knew the world would find out about us eventually, I just thought we could get through our time here without eyes on us constantly.”

Ridley grumbles his agreement, kissing the top of my head, easing my growing anxiety with each word I mutter. “There’s no way to escape, Brea. It’s only going to get worse once the training camp starts and you’re officially on the road. The vultures will be circling, waiting for us to fail. They will create obstacles with rumors and lies, misinterpreted images and words, all in an attempt to help what we are building collapse.”

He pulls away and tilts my head up with his finger to look me in my eyes. “It’s going to be hard, baby, I’m not going to sugar coat it. But we will have to be stronger than the naysayers, build up our armor, Luna, and prove them wrong. Give them nothing, okay?” He watches my face with steadfast assurance, and I take strength from him and nod my agreement. Ridley is used to being in the spotlight. When we were together before, he protected me from all media attention with the help of his agent, Hazel. I have the label now, and although I haven’t heard anything from them in regard to my relationship, their silence makes me nervous.

I shrug, feeling a bit sorry for myself. “I guess it’s too late to back out now,” I say quietly as I press my forehead to his. “And before you think I’m talking about us, I’m referring to me. The record deal, the tour, the growing popularity. I just want to play Bessie, write music and perform. Simple and easy. I don’t want to sound ungrateful because I wanted this. I dreamed of this. But then, you?—”

“I made you want more,” he says matter-of-factly, taking the words right out of my mouth.

My mouth parts with another apology ready on my lips but I quickly close it. No more apologies for the past Brea. Yes, I wanted more before, I want it even more so now. Now that I’ve been able to get a taste of what it’s like to have it all this summer. We’ve been in our own little bubble where our careers have given us the leeway to be with each other every day. Unrealistic, but fuck, I want it.

“Yes”, I finally say. “When you came into my life, you made me want more than just my music. Unfortunately, I can admit the first time around I gave up too easily. I let my mother’s poisonous words, and the loss of our baby affect me.” I pause and swallow the lump in my throat as Ridley traces the tattoo on my left arm with his finger. I want to say made me run from it all, from him, but he places his finger on my lips, silencing me.

“Shhh. It’s okay, I know what you’re trying to say. There were times, especially after you left when hockey wasn’t enough. I wondered what all of this was for, if I couldn’t have the woman I love beside me. If it wasn’t for Lia, Tor, Bast, Devan, and Hazel, I may have walked away. I was so lost; I would have done anything for you to just come back. So, I get it. The need, the want for simplicity. But we are more, Angel. I’m so proud of you. I don’t want you to give up anything for me. I want you to have the world. I told you before, there is nowhere you can go that I can’t follow. I will find you in the dark, baby, my moon, all I have to do is look up.” He kisses my lips, then bends further, planting a kiss on my tattoo. The date of my miscarriage inked in cursive down my left bicep. I got it as a reminder of what I lost. At the time, it represented both the baby and Ridley.

I watch him brush his lips against my ink with a gentle caress. His eyes close briefly, then he blows out a breath and opens them. There’s grief there, a grief I know all too well. I don’t know if it will ever get easier, but all I can do is take it day by day until the hurt becomes a dull ache, because it will never go away.

“We will take it day by day,” I say, mirroring my thoughts and applying it to our situation. “We do the work and show up for each other every day. There’s no reason for us not to see each other. We communicate our feelings, the good and the bad. If we can do that, we will come out on the other side of all this indestructible,” I say raising my arm and flexing my slightly muscled arm, making Ridley laugh as the alarm on my phone goes off.

“Okay,” he says, kissing my lips as his phone goes off somewhere on the floor behind him. “We take it day by day”—Kiss—“Everything is going to be fine, Angel”—Kiss—“I want us to enjoy this last week together.” He kisses me once more, melding his lips to mine a little longer before he pulls away with a groan and gets out of bed. I flop on my back, wanting to flop my arms and legs in a full blow tantrum.

“I don’t want to adult today, I just want to be with you.” I pout. Yep, I’m channeling my inner toddler.

“Shower with me.” He turns walking backward, giving me a spectacular view of his body, naked and perfect. I lift a brow, saying without words that he’s gotten my attention.

I roll out of bed, shoulders sagging, feet dragging from lack of sleep, letting the pied piper lead me to my demise. I follow him eagerly, I mean, who can resist that glorious hockey butt.

I say goodbye to Charlie as I shoulder the door open and exit the shop, holding two cups of coffee in each hand. I pause as I reach the sidewalk to take a life affirming sip of my lavender latte, and sigh. I swear, I need an IV drip of Charlie’s special brew. It’s just that good.

With my hands firmly wrapped around my cups, because yes, the second one is for me as well, I make my way to my jeep. My strappy sandals clack against the freshly paved road, and I want to stop and make music with the sound I’m creating. I smile, heart full, coffee in my hands, feeling as they say, ten feet tall. The sun is already making itself known, as the heat touches my skin, making me grateful for my flowy green maxi dress. I’m halfway to my jeep when I notice the flash out of my periphery. Glancing to my left, I notice the long lens camera peeking out from between the trees in the park across the street. As soon as my face turns in the man’s direction, he takes more pictures in rapid succession. I try my best to keep my expression passive, giving him nothing as Ridley stated earlier and ignoring the lone camera man. I guess I will see this image somewhere soon with some outlandish story attached to it. At least it’s coffee I’m double-fisting and not some alcoholic beverage. I turn and snort as I imagine the tales of my alcoholism and how I’m already falling prey to the rockstar life. Ha. Yeah, right.

“Hey, penguin!” I pause a few steps from my jeep and lean over the hood of my car to see a smiling Red sauntering my way. She’s wearing cutoff jean shorts, her signature Solo Red’s t-shirt, red fishnet tights and boots, with a box of bread propped against her hip. No doubt she must have spotted me as she left Dulce’s bakery. I wolf-whistle as I scan her outfit from head to toe suggestively, making her roll her eyes at my craziness.

I meet her halfway, making sure I put some distance between us and the mister nosey pants with the camera. “I didn’t sign up for a new nickname, Red.” I lift a brow in question as the smell of fresh baguettes hit my nose when she stops in front of me.

“Well, what else am I going to call you with your freshly fucked waddle you got going on.” She smirks. “Girl, is Ridley even letting you sleep? Or is it the other way around?”

I lean in and whisper my reply, “Hey, the fucking is mutual.”

Red bellows her laugh down the road, possibly waking up half the town with how loud it is. “Well, you look happy and I’m happy for you both. I have to live vicariously through you, because this p?—"

“Nope, Red, I don’t want to hear about the cobwebs you’ve got growing down there.” I shake my head and close my eyes as if it will dispel the visual in my head.

“Hey, I have plenty of toys to appease the beast that is my vagina. They will have to do until my tall, dark, and fine as fuck comes waltzing into my bar with eyes for me.” She smiles wistfully, and all I want to do is hug my best friend. The dating pool in Lark Bay is seriously lacking and Red is so busy, there’s no time to seek men elsewhere. I know all too well what it’s like to pursue your passion and have no one to come home to. Loneliness is its own type of slow torture, and I don’t want Red to be alone. We’d picked up where we left off this summer, the years apart a distant memory. I don’t want to leave her here without me to annoy her. Speaking of which, maybe I can do a little match making of my own.

Taking a quick sip of my coffee, I smile mischievously at my bestie making her narrow her eyes in suspicion.

“Whatever you’re thinking, I don’t want to hear it, Brea. I’m fine. I don’t need an intervention,” she says, somehow knowing what direction this conversation is going in.

“Sebastian,” I blurt out. I’m so used to calling him Bast, saying his actual name feels strange.

Red shifts her weight from foot to foot. “What about him?” she asks, narrowing her eyes even further and making me want to laugh at her pinched face.

“I mean, he comes into the bar with Ridley and Devan, you two are always talking together. Maybe?—"

Red laughs again cutting off my words. “Brea, Bast is cool, we like to talk about politics, especially after he called your mom out a couple of weeks ago. But you know, he will never be interested in me.”

Now it was my turn to narrow my eyes. Yes, Bast is very private, but I knew he wasn’t seeing anyone. “Why not? You’re beautiful, independent, you own your own business, and you have a law degree. What is not to love about you?” I ask in confusion.

“Ahh, let’s see. Maybe it’s because I don’t have a dick. Bast is not into women, Brea. He is gay,” she says shaking her head.

My mouth falls open in surprise. “How do you know? How did I miss that?” I ask, still stunned over my lack of observational skills. I mean, Bast and I aren’t as close as Devan or Tor and me. He joined the Vipers the year I left Ridley. I guess it makes sense for him to keep his sexuality private.

Red scoffs in offense. “I run a bar, Brea. I’m in the business of learning about people, observing them. It’s all one giant social experiment,” she says waving her arm in a circular motion. “In conclusion, he is not my type, and I am not his. Plus, I think his eyes are firmly planted on someone else.”

Before I can ask her who, my phone rings in my bag. My eyes widen, because, yeah, I’m still holding two cups of coffee. Red takes pity on me and pulls my phone out of my front pocket then mouths, “See you tonight,” as she slides the phone in between my ear and my shoulder. I mouth, “bye” to her then awkwardly speed walk back to my jeep and place my coffees down on the hood of my car before answering the phone.

“Hello,” I say without seeing who it is I’m about to speak to.

“Miss Brookes, this is Damien Greer. I think you and I need to talk.”