“You want me to fuck you for my clothes?”
“No, I don’t want your dick—”
“That’s bullshit.”
“Just your mouth,” she continues with returned hesitation. “If you want your clothes, then you make me come on your tongue.” She glances away, clutching her paper tightly. “Until then, your clothes are mine, as well as the receipts to pick up your dry cleaning.”
“What makes you think you’re doing me a disservice here?”
Her long lashes lift as she says, “You don’t think I know how hard and horny you get every time you go down on me? I know you. I know the way your body reacts when your tongue is buried between my legs. And I know the only way you’ll be fully satisfied after making me come all over your mouth is if you flip me onto my stomach, pull my ass into the air, and fuck me bare.”
I gulp because fuck, she’s right.
“And I don’t want your dick. I don’t want anything to do with it. Just your mouth. So you can either get your clothes by giving me what I want, only to suffer from a serious case of blue balls, or you can start perusing your closet for a new pair of running shorts.”
Jaw clenched, I grip the counter and say, “Is this satisfying to you? These rules? These restrictions?”
“Doesn’t matter what they mean to me. It just matters that they’re set in stone.” Once again, she avoids eye contact with me, and it gives me pause.
She’s in defense mode, and the only time she’s like this is when she’s so hurt she hides behind sarcasm. Scorn.
And fuck do I wish I knew how I hurt her.
Is she protecting her heart? From me?
Is she trying to erect a wall between us because I’ve hurt her so badly?
Or is she doing this out of pure spite? I can’t tell.
Either way, I can’t help the irritation pumping through me. She’s making it impossible for me to reach her.
“Fine.” I push off the counter and head toward the hallway to get ready for my day.
“Just a heads-up,” she calls out. “I know you have a meeting today, but all of your suits are at the cleaners.” I glance down at her as I’m halfway up the stairs.
“Do that on purpose, did you?”
“No, actually. It just worked out well for me.” She tucks her hair behind her ears. “If you want the claim tickets, you know what you need to do.”
Of course . . . give her my tongue.
As I stomp up the stairs, I run the conversation through my head. The pain in her eyes, the irritation, the anger building between us at such a rapid rate that I’m not sure there is any possibility of stopping it.
She dislikes me.
And right now, I think the sentiment is shared.
She’s mad at me for what I’ve done in the past.
I’m mad about what she’s doing now.
There’s no Switzerland, no one to help us moderate the pain and frustration.
So rather than fix it . . . it’s only building now.
Ryot: Plans have changed. The battleground lines have been drawn.
Banner: What are you talking about?
Penn: Did we have plans today? Dude, I can’t keep up with this schedule.
Nola: Why am I on a text thread with Penn?
Penn: Hey, Nola. Can you send me more of that pancake mix from that lobster place?
Nola: The Lobster Landing? No. You don’t deserve any.
Penn: I told you I was sorry about the house paint comment. Okay? It was years ago. You’re still holding it against me?
Nola: I will always hold that against you.
Ryot: Hey, hello! I’m the one who needs some help. Take up your vendettas with each other on another text thread.
Penn: Do you have a vendetta against me, Nola?
Nola: No, just a distaste for you in my mouth.
Banner: When has Penn ever been in your mouth?
Ryot: Jesus Christ.
Nola: NEVER!
Penn: Dude, I know I’ve fucked around, but never with your sister. Anyway, she’s happily married.
Nola: Thanks for pointing out the obvious to my brothers.
Penn: Just trying to be a white knight is all . . . does that get me the pancake mix now?
Nola: NO!
Ryot: Enough with the pancake mix.
Banner: Would I be able to score some pancake mix? I didn’t say anything shitty about the house paint you chose.
Nola: No, because you would just give it to Penn. I know how you work. No one is getting pancake mix.
Banner: What if I disassociate myself from Penn?
Penn: Dude!
Banner: Come on . . . it’s the sacred pancake mix. You must understand the position I’m in.
Ryot: Can we please fucking focus! I’m being bamboozled by my wife, and I need some help.
Penn: He used bamboozled, must be serious.
Banner: Bamboozled is most definitely only used when serious.
Nola: Why am I part of this? You didn’t listen to me last night, so clearly, I’m of no use to you.
Banner: What happened last night?
Nola: He lost his temper because Nichole is in town and basically told Myla she’s not allowed to be with any men and then . . . he touched her.
Penn: Touched her as in . . . touched her?
Banner: Nichole’s in town? Did she ask about me?
Ryot: I haven’t spoken to her. We’re really not on the best terms, in case you forgot about that.
Banner: I haven’t. Still, let me know if she wants to hang.
Penn: The balls on this guy.
Banner: No shame.
Nola: Although this has been entertaining, I’m sort of interested in the bamboozlement.
Penn: Agreed. Lay it on us.
Ryot: You sure you don’t want to talk about pancake mix?
Banner: Dude, we’ve moved on. Don’t be dramatic.
Penn: Yeah, pancake mix is old news. Tell us how Myla is bamboozling you.
Ryot: So as Nola said, last night wasn’t my best showing. I lost my temper and, well, did some stupid shit. She capitalized on that this morning. Let’s just say she set ground rules. Took away my car—long story—and has made my life a nightmare. She has both cars, all the food, the TV, and my lucky running shorts.
Banner: Dear GOD! Not the shorts.
Penn: I think my taint just shriveled up.
Nola: Even I know the importance of the shorts.
Ryot: So I have no food, no transportation, no TV, no shorts, and I know there are some hidden things she’s waiting to spring on me. The situation has just gone from surprised anger to designed pettiness.
Penn: Ah, so you’re looking for help on how to retaliate. Am I reading you right?
Ryot: Precisely.
Nola: Why do I feel like this is not a good idea?
Banner: Because you’re not understanding the situation. We have this all worked out. This was part of the plan anyway. She’s just taking it up a notch.
Penn: Yes, exactly. This gives Ryot the leverage he needs.
Nola: You three are morons.
Banner: Don’t you mean . . . geniuses?
Nola: No, I meant morons.
Ryot: Either way, I’m going to need your help, Nola. Are you in?
Nola: God, I hate you . . .
Penn: I think that’s a yes!
Banner: Totally a yes.
Chapter Eight
RYOT
Seven years ago . . .