“Well, he… it’s just… we want to give it another shot, ya know…”
I’m shocked. I was not expecting that. “What the fuck, Lee? Have you been fucking him the whole time you were with me?” I mean, it’s only been weeks, but still.
“Ryder.” His face flushes, and he grimaces, “He came to see me… to apologise, and it just kinda happened. He saw the marks you left, and then it was just… I came to see you at the track to end it, but then you were so happy to see me, and well, I got swept up in you, in the sex and the way you made me feel. I just kinda forgot why I was there till I got home, and he was waiting for me.”
I let out a shaky breath. “I can’t fucking believe you, Lee. That’s fucked up.”
“I know, Ryder. I didn’t want to hurt you, but I just couldn’t say no to you either. You just make me feel…” He trails off and steps around the sofa to me.
He comes to a stop in front of me and gives me a sad smile. He slides his hands up my chest, and I close my eyes. My emotions are all over the place, and I take a deep breath. His hands cup my face, and I look down into his eyes, but I do not see sorrow.
Before I realise what he’s doing, he crashes his lips to mine and starts to tear at my clothes, ripping my jacket off and throwing it on the floor before dropping to his knees. He fumbles with the belt on my jeans, yanks them down my legs with my boxer shorts, and grabs my dick, squeezing tight at the base before closing his lips around my shaft, sliding my dick to the back of his throat. I growlas he slides his teeth over my length and pulls, swirling his tongue around the head.
I grunt and scrub my fingers into his hair as I stare down at him. I’m hurt, I’m angry, but most of all, I’m ashamed that he’s got my dick in his mouth, so I grip tighter and slam my hips against his mouth. Once I bottom out, he goes to pull back, but I grip tighter as he gags and chokes on my cock. I ease back a little as he gasps for air before I slam back in again. His hands fly to my thighs, and I feel the sting of his nails as he tries to push me back, but I smirk down at him.
“I was just a fuck to you. Wasn’t I?” I spit. “Let’s show you how it feels to be used, Lee. You’re gonna choke on every inch of my dick till I cum down your throat, you fucking slut.”
I snatch at him, yanking him back before slamming back into him again, holding him with his hair on the top of his head, sliding my other meaty hand to the back of his neck, holding him there while his eyes water and he chokes, and gags again, trying to swallow against the head of my dick as it cuts off his air supply. I let off a little and allow him to try and draw breath and cough before slamming back in. His eyes are red-rimmed, snot is sliding down towards his mouth, drool and spit are foaming from his lips and dripping off the end of his chin.
My thighs are covered with bloody half-moons from his nails, and I thrust my hips harder as I fuck his throat.
I snarl down at him, “You feel as cheap as you made me feel yet?”
But I’m not interested in the answer. I slam to the back of his throat again as I start to cum. I push him off so he falls back onto the floor as I cum all over him, firing across his face, across his clothes, as he whimpers and gasps for breath.
“You’re a fucking disappointment, Lee!” I shove my dick back in my jeans, reach down and grab my jacket and turn to look at him. There’s cum all over him. There is spit around his mouth, and there’s snot and tears all over his face.
I want to feel awful, I really do, but all I feel at this moment is hurt, betrayed and not good enough, so I throw my jacket on and storm out of the apartment and back home because fuck him. He was a distraction. Eyes on the prize!
Arch
Chapter 15
The next meet, I can’t wait to see Ryder. I look out of the window at him, but he’s snapping at his dad and throwing stuff around. I’ve never seen him like this, but it makes me nervous, so I hang back. I was hoping I could maybe say hello or have a conversation with him. I don’t know how, but I'm trying to find a way to spend some time with him. But he’s clearly in a mood and can’t even bear to be near his dad. I decide to give him a wide berth for now, and I hang back near the window and watch him.
They start to prep the bike in silence. His dad gets up, places his hand on Ryder’s shoulder, and Ryder hangs his head, shaking it. His dad rubs his shoulder and walks away. He gets lost in his world working on the bike, doing all his checks, tyres, breaks, oil, and fuel, and then wipes down the plastics. When he’s finished, he flops down on his behind against the van. He brings his knees up, rests his elbows, takes a deep breath, and scrubs his hands into his thick, jet-black hair.
He sits like that for a while before letting his head drop back onto the van and screwing his eyes closed. He shoves his legs out in front of him and crosses them at the ankles. He seems to relax a bit, but from here, Ican’t tell what he’s thinking. Is he angry or upset? I find myself wanting to know. He looks peaceful, relaxed, but I’m not sure.
I stand to leave, but I hesitate. This may not be the best time to try and strike up a conversation. It could make matters worse, and I shudder at the thought. I don’t want to go back to hating each other.
I’m assuming because my feelings have changed, that his feelings have too. What if, even after helping me, he still despises me? I take my seat back in the shadows. I watch and wait. It’s almost time for the race, but he hasn’t moved. I’m not sure if he’s asleep or just ignoring the world, so I head out of the motorhome, and as I click the door shut, his eyes flick to mine. They’re red, like he’s been rubbing them, or crying, or maybe tired.
He sighs in annoyance and rises to his feet, turning and walking away from me. I don’t know why, but it hurts. It shouldn’t, but for some reason it does. And I can’t help but stutter a breath.
I avoid him as much as possible for the rest of the weekend. I watch him. I pleasure myself in the shower thinking of him, and I follow him. I stalk him across social media and try to find as much information as possible. All the time, I keep him in view as much as I can. The boyfriend hasn’t been here this weekend, and I’m praying to whoever that it has ended, and that’s why he’s not around. I smile to myself and hope that they’re broken up.
He barely talks to anyone the whole weekend. Pulling up at the start gates, he barely looks around, focusing only on the track. He’s fast out of the gate, and he reaches the first corner in second, and I’m in fourth. He’s aggressive but precise. He takes the tight linewherever he can and sails over the tabletop and whoops like he’s riding on smooth tarmac. When he hits the ruts, he powers into them harder than ever, spewing dirt up as his tyres grip and propel him forward. He wins the race, which is beautiful to see, but he doesn’t seem pleased.
He’s still angry and wound up. I can tell from how he holds his shoulders, the tension in his hands as he wheels his bike back to the pits, and the permanent scowl on his brow when he removes his helmet. His eyes seem almost darker somehow. The usual gold flecks in those dark brown eyes that normally look like stars in the night sky are dim, barely a flicker.
After the last race, he heads to the shower block, and I decide to follow him. I grab a towel to make it at least look like I’m going to shower. I can say mine is broken. That’s a believable excuse, right? I grab my shower gel, too, and head over there.
I gently push the door open and creep in, letting it shut quietly behind me. I hear voices coming from further in.
Quietly making my way deeper into the shower block, I hear Ryder’s voice. “On your fucking knees.”
There’s a muffled noise before I hear his voice again. “Is this what you fucking want, slut? My dick pulsing down your fucking throat? Well? Is it?” he spits.
