Wildfire Hurricane (A Ryder Boys Novel Book 1) (20 page)

“Love eluded me until I found you again. Hope escaped me until I reunited with my best friend. Joy binds us in its enduring grasp as today we vow to never give up.”

“That’s so romantic.” She snuggled into his chest. “You could’ve said that at the ceremony.”

“Hush now, I’m not finished.” He curled his finger under her chin and smiled into her eyes. “And lust rules my dick whenever I find you sleeping in nothing but my t-shirt. Tonight I vow to use you like a man should—in the bedroom, on the kitchen floor, bent over the coffee table…”

A snortle escaped as she clapped her hand over her mouth.

“You said you wanted them dirty.”

“I love you.” She framed his face with her hands and brushed her lips against his. “Better this time.”

***Sneak Peek***

no relationship

required!

A Ryder Boys Novel:

Book 2

Chapter 1

Sunlight streamed in through the bedroom window, warming Wyatt Ryder’s bare ass as he rolled onto his hip to caress the naked woman beside him, his stiffening cock primed for a vigorous round of morning sex. His hand flopped on the empty mattress, tangling in the rumpled sheets as he searched for her.
Is she making coffee already?
He inhaled, detecting the scent of sweaty sex and salty air mixed with the too flowery perfume Megan wore last night. A change in the lighting compelled him to open his eyes.

Her body had blocked the sunrise and cast a shadow over the bed. He sat up and stared at her, taking note of the tension in her limbs and her determined movements as she buttoned her blouse. Something had changed. She was talking, but her hair fell over her face as she bent to retrieve her shoes, so he couldn’t read her lips. He fumbled around the nightstand for his cochlear implant’s processors and slipped them over the magnets under his scalp.

“…fun while it lasted, but there’s no future for us.”

Not again.
Wyatt sighed. He could drown in self-pity, the victim of yet another woman using him to advance her career. But something dark and seriously pissed off emerged from the abyss, demanding justice. No. The anger he’d kept locked down for too long wanted vengeance. “Get out.”

She bolted upright and gaped at him. “What?”

“You heard me.” His pronunciation had been clear, his meaning unmistakable. He took his time and willed his mouth to shape each word perfectly as he issued his next statement. “I want you gone.”

She gasped and whipped her long, blonde hair over her shoulder in a huff. “
Now
you talk like a man.”

Ah yes.
The classic insult from a woman grown tired of making the effort to communicate with him. He’d heard it before, and he’d no doubt hear it again.
Unless you do something to change things.
He snatched her purse from the nightstand and threw it in her direction. “You remember where the front door is, right?” She’d insisted on driving last night. She’d planned this from the beginning.

Megan collected her belongings and stomped toward the exit. Her fingers curled around the doorknob and she paused, casting a vicious glare back at him. “I faked all those orgasms.” Then she marched from the room and seconds later the walls rattled as she slammed the front door behind her.

Spencer, his hearing dog, followed her as far as the bedroom door, keeping his distance, as he stared outside. The electronic device in Wyatt’s brain translated the distinct sounds of a car starting and leaving, and the dog relaxed. The golden retriever wandered over to the bed and laid his chin on the quilt, his big brown eyes looking puzzled and sympathetic at the same time.

Megan’s parting shot ran circles around Wyatt’s head. He should’ve known a relationship with a wedding planner would only last as long as she could milk his celebrity photographer status for profit. A glance at the still twisted sheets confirmed he’d been used again, trading sex for public appearances. In the time it took for his brother and his bride to enjoy their extended honeymoon, Wyatt had been seduced and paraded in front of Megan’s potential clients. Once she’d booked enough weddings and anniversary parties to fill her calendar for the following year, she dumped him.

“I don’t get it either.” Wyatt clapped his hand over his eyes, blocking the rising sun. Faked orgasms?
Bullshit.
He’d always been able to tell when a woman came. Her eyes squeezed shut and her mouth dropped open in a gasp he couldn’t hear. Her body heated and her skin flushed, quivering under or on top of him, and the unmistakable, uncontrollable clench of her pussy told him he’d satisfied her. More than once.

He’d been born without the ability to hear, but his other senses had sharpened. Touch had become his favorite, her slick flesh tightening around him and her fingernails scoring his back. No, he liked taste more. Licking salty sweat from her skin and savoring the flavor of her pussy. Oh, but seeing her skin flush and watching her take short gasping breaths when she came. But maybe the scent of sex on his fingers and the lingering aroma in his sheets was the best of all. Wyatt had honed his heightened skills into sexual mastery.

Faked it? Oh hell no.
The memory of how hard and how often he’d made Megan come stiffened his naked cock, and he slipped his hand under the sheet to stroke himself without thinking. She couldn’t fake an orgasm if she tried, but her relationship performance deserved an Oscar.

The rushing crash of ocean waves pounding the beach irritated him, and Wyatt yanked his processors off. Silence enveloped him for a brief moment, hugging like an old friend, but the internal noise he’d tamped down roared in and chased the fleeting comfort away. Spencer nudged his thigh with a cold, wet nose and thumped his tail from side to side. Wyatt pulled the sheet over his chest and patted the mattress. The big golden retriever jumped up, settling against his master.

“At least I can count on you.” Wyatt dropped back on the bunched up pillows and petted his best friend. “You don’t have a hidden agenda. Do your job and get fed. That’s all it takes to make you happy. Megan wasn’t so easy to please.”

Spencer yawned at the mention of her name, and Wyatt recalled that the usually friendly retriever had shown little interest in her. He loved people, especially Wyatt’s brother and sister-in-law. The well-trained dog asked for permission to play and then he’d run after whatever Dash threw for him. But he’d practically ignored Megan. She’d picked up his slobbery, chewed-on tennis ball with a disgusted cringe and tossed it, but Spencer acted like he hadn’t seen it. Clearly the dog never trusted her.

“You’re right. I should’ve listened to you.”

Spencer jumped off the bed and ran to the door, staring out into the living room. His tail wagged, so the dog must have heard a welcome noise or saw someone he knew. He turned back to Wyatt and nudged his hand, even though he was already out of bed and pulling his jeans on.

“Is Dash here already?” Wyatt dragged a t-shirt over his head and slid the processors back in place. His brother hated signing when the technology Wyatt needed to hear had been available to them since junior high. Wyatt hated the sound of his own voice. He hadn’t learned to speak until after he got the implant, and he still struggled with enunciation. Talking to strangers made his heart race and his palms sweat.

“Hey buddy, how are you?” Dash stopped in the open doorway and ruffled Spencer’s ears.

The giddy dog sat down and thumped his tail against the floor.

“Where’s your ball?” Dash cast a glance toward the worn out tennis ball lying next to the coffee table.

Spencer quivered as he waited for Wyatt’s command.

“Go get it.”

Spencer scrambled to grab his favorite toy then dropped it at Dash’s feet.

Dash waited, grinning as the dog pawed his leg, eager to run after something.

“Stop teasing him.” Wyatt poured water into the coffee maker and flipped the switch.

The golden yipped and danced in a tight circle as Dash hurled the ball into the front yard. Spencer sprinted out the door, chasing his prize.

Wyatt shook his head and grabbed a couple of mugs from the cabinet. “Why do you have to agitate him?”

“He needs a little excitement. Nothing like pissing off the ones you love for pleasure.”

Wyatt’s processors made Dash’s cackle sound like a lunatic cyborg. “Is that what Simone taught you?”

“I learned from the best.” The evil grin on his brother’s face told Wyatt more than he needed to know.

Spencer bounded in and dropped the ball at Dash’s feet. He scooped it up and tossed it to Wyatt. Wyatt caught the soggy toy and chucked it into the laundry room. Of course, Spencer scurried off and retrieved it.

“No more playing.” Wyatt snatched the ball and dropped it in the sink where the disappointed retriever couldn’t reach.

“Come on, man.” Dash grumbled and crossed his arms over his chest. “What drove a bug up your butt?”

Wyatt poured a cup of coffee and handed it to his brother. “Did you bring my light kit?” He poured another cup for himself and scanned the beach house as he drank. He’d put the kitchen together last night before Megan came over, but random boxes still sat scattered throughout the living room.

“It’s in the back of my truck.”

“And the backdrops?” Wyatt had left the largest pieces of his photography equipment at the studio in his penthouse, and Dash had brought over a few items every day since he and Simone moved in.

“I got everything.”

“Good.” He’d cleared out the third bedroom and converted it into a new photo studio. Smaller, but it would do for a few months until his brother’s new house was built.

“You didn’t have to move out.” Dash finished his coffee and set the mug in the sink. “Your penthouse has plenty of room for all of us.”

He couldn’t argue with that. “You two newlyweds need your privacy. I might not be able to hear your foreplay fighting, but your makeup sex shook the damn walls.”

Dash muffled a laugh behind curled fingers, but wicked merriment escaped his eyes. “We’ve got a lot of foreplay–” He corrected himself. “Fighting to make up for.”

Wyatt had known Simone since high school. She’d been like a sister to him until she and Dash split up. “How long were you two apart?”

“Thirteen years, eight months, three weeks, five days.” Dash rattled off the numbers without even thinking about them.

Wyatt rolled his eyes. “You haven’t counted the hours?”

“She did. I thought that was excessive.”

“You wanted to argue about it.”

Wicked glee tainted his brother’s smirk. “I won.”

“I remember.” They’d rattled the fucking floorboards after that one. “That’s when I decided to move to the beach.” Wyatt finished his coffee and loaded the dishwasher. He dropped the dirty tennis ball on the floor. Spencer practically vibrated as he waited for permission to grab it. “All right, you can play.”

The happy golden snatched the ball and carried it to his favorite playmate.

Dash hurled it into the yard again. “I think he misses me.”

“I know he does. Megan thought he was a pest, and believe me, the feeling was mutual.” Spencer had kept his distance, never leaving the room, but always keeping a wary eye on her every move.

“But Spencer likes everyone.”

“Not her. I should’ve known she couldn’t be trusted when he wouldn’t go near her.” He’d ignored his trusted companion’s signals.
Don’t do that again.

“What happened?”

“The usual. She used me to further her career, and when she got what she wanted, she left.”

“You gotta stop dating these ambitious women.”

“She was your wedding planner, remember? You set me up with her.”

Spencer scrambled inside, skidding across the stone tile floor as he dropped the ball in front of Dash.

But Dash failed to notice him. “Shit, I’m sorry. I thought she’d be good for you.”

“Because she could sign?” They’d seen her using American Sign Language at Dash and Simone’s reception.

Dash cringed as if he’d been caught naked in public. “She was always nice to me.”

“Well, yeah, you were her client. I was just a tool.”

“You can’t mope about her. There are plenty of women who want your attention.” Dash jumped as Spencer nipped his elbow. “I’m sure not all of them are manipulative users.” He scooped up the ball and flung it onto the couch.

Wyatt scowled. “I’m not moping.” The very notion lit a fuse inside him, sparking a revolution in his soul. “I’m done with women.”

“We’ll see how long that lasts.” Dash rolled his wrist and laughed at his watch.

“All right.” He’d need to get laid eventually. But nothing more. “I’m done with relationships. Casual sex only from now on.” He walked out the front door toward Dash’s truck.

“Yeah, sure.” Dash followed him while Spencer ran alongside carrying his tennis ball.

Wyatt yanked the tailgate open and caught a falling box. “If I’m going to get fucked for business, I might as well enjoy it. Why invest in a relationship if there’s no return for me?”

“You can’t do that.” Dash wrestled the ball from Spencer and lobbed it toward the beach.

“Why not? You did.” After Dash had finished college, he’d moved into Wyatt’s penthouse for a few months. The two Ryder boys became notorious and sought-after bachelors, indulging in kinky sex and other forms of debauchery. The memories heated Wyatt’s face as he hefted the wayward box and stalked back to the house.

“Because it’s not who you are. You’re not the kind of guy who can use a woman for sex. You have to give something back to her.”

“Not anymore. I’ve got nothing left to give.”

Dash grabbed a duffle bag and scrambled after him. “I tried to harden my heart, but I couldn’t do it. Remember how pissy and miserable I was?”

Wyatt snorted as he dropped the heavy box on the coffee table. “You were a real asshole.”