He pulls back just as the intensity starts to build and I moan. He slides back up and kisses my mouth. I draw my legs up and grind against his erection through his boxer briefs.
"Take those off," I say. If he can command, then so can I.
He grins and laces his fingers through my left hand. I'm just about to think that's totally sweet when he lifts it slowly over my head, gently lets go and wraps my palm around the wrought iron bars of the headboard. He repeats this exact same move with my other hand until both are above my head grasping hold of the bars.
"Stay still, Rook."
I know what he's doing and even though it sorta ticks me off that he's pulling this dominant shit with me, it also sorta turns me on. So I do stay still. I watch him as he gets up and rummages through my drawers until he comes up with a silk scarf.
"Ronin—"
"Shhh. Just quiet now," he says as he comes back over to the bed. "You're not being restrained, Rook. You wanna take it off, just take it off." He waits to see what I'll say. "OK?"
He's waiting for me to give him permission. I've modeled with him enough to know if he asks me a sexual question like that he wants an answer. "OK."
His grin is immediate. "Lift your head up a little." I do and he ties the scarf around my eyes. The scarf is yellow, so it's not dark. I think he did this on purpose because I know for a fact there are black scarves in that drawer. He picked a yellow one so while my sight will be restricted, it won't be dark.
When he joins me in bed he's missing his boxer briefs. He slides between my legs and I feel his firm erection against my thigh. My heart rate kicks up a few notches as the excitement begins to build.
I'm definitely turned on and that surprises me because I just handed him control. I suck in a sharp breath between my teeth as he starts with kisses. This time they are hard and desperate. My breathing gets all ragged and I push myself against him, rubbing a little. He enters me and we find our rhythm. There is nothing scary about this at all.
"Rook," he whispers into my neck. "I want you in my bed every night. I want you to be part of me forever. I want to make an
us
with you." He thrusts into me and I gasp and buckle my back, holding onto the iron bars so tight it almost hurts. He repeats that move over and over—our bodies hard and fast one moment, then still, or slow the next. He pulls out, almost completely out, then slides back inside me. And again, he varies the rhythm so just as I'm getting used to his motion, it changes and the new sensations demand my attention.
He leans down into my neck and lets out a steamy breath of desire. "It feels good to give in, doesn't it?"
"This feels good." I can feel his smile against my skin and I smile too. "But maybe next time I can blindfold you?"
"You wanna be on top, Gidge?"
He likes me on top and I like it too. "Yes, please."
He growls against my neck again. "You have nice manners, Miss Walsh. Now let go of the headboard." I do and before I know what's happening he flips us over and I'm straddling his waist. My hand goes up to the blindfold. "No," he says, stopping me with a firm grasp. "Leave it."
I obey, then lift up and wrap my palm around his thickness. We are both very ready. I guide him inside me and then let myself dip down. His hands are on my hips, encouraging me to move back and forth instead of up and down. This drives me crazy and he knows it.
"Come here, Gidge." He gently grabs my shoulders and pulls my upper body down on top of his muscular chest. "Stay right here." And then he takes over, alternating between thrusting and sliding me against him in just the right way so that my clit is throbbing with the friction. I draw my knees up a little so I can push myself against him.
"God, you feel so good, Rook." His hands are on my ass now, squeezing, and then he lifts up and gives me a small smack. Not enough to hurt but definitely enough to make me want more. The next time he does it I moan and increase my movement, lifting up and then slamming down on him. "Yeah, that's nice," he says and when the hand smacks down for the third time I explode.
I come so hard I can't stop the scream.
Chapter Twenty-Five - ROOK
Fort Collins, or FoCo as Ronin likes to call it, is a about an hour's drive north of Denver. Spencer's shop is just northwest of the city outside a tiny town called Bellvue. It sits on a large piece of land that bucks up against the Cache La Pouder River and the shop is really a large barn behind a massive white farmhouse.
This place is totally cute.
Ford, being the asshole that he is, put a car cam in Ronin's truck for the ride up so we dutifully said next to nothing the entire time just to piss Ford off. Now that the crew is back I'm less enthusiastic about being chatty, so I let Ronin do all the talking. He's discussing things with Spencer and Team Rook is messing with the microphone when Ford walks over to me.
I do my best to ignore him, but it's not easy because he just stands there and waits out my silence.
"What?" I finally ask as I turn to look up at him.
He shakes his head at me. "Don't let him talk for you, Rook. Stop moping about the cameras and make decisions. This is your life they're discussing." And then he walks off.
He's right, I have to admit that. I should be over there talking about this. I walk over to Ronin and Spence and Ronin puts his arm around my waist and pulls me close as he continues talking. "Two places," Ronin says to Spencer. "That's it."
"Two places, what?" I ask.
"Four, Ronin. I need her to meet everyone on this trip so we get a good rapport going with the locals. I get that you don't want her doing the whole season, but she already signed a contract for the pilot, and the purpose of the pilot is to generate good footage so we get the whole season."
"What places?" I ask again.
"Spencer, she was contracted to do modeling, not be your errand girl. She's a
model
, not your bitch."
"What's going on?"
"Yeah, but the modeling included the reality show, so technically she is my bitch."
"Spencer—"
"Rook," Ronin says, a little exasperated. "Please, just let me manage the contractual stuff, OK?" He kisses me on the head and points over to the far end of the shop. "There's your bike, go check it out."
Hmph. I walk off. Should I be mad at that exchange? He's my manager, he's just doing his job. I look back for Team Rook to see if they've sorted the microphone yet, but they are still busy setting things up. I stop and check out the bike I chose last month when I was at Spencer's showroom and he painted my back up. It was just a plain bike back then, reminiscent of a classic Triumph with a flashy turquoise tank. Now it's all turquoise. The frame, the fenders, and even the long classic leather seat.
But the thing that really makes this bike stand out now is the logo. Every bike gets its own logo and my bike is called the Shrike Rook. It's so perfect I can hardly contain my glee! It's got a cool swirly feathered blackbird in the middle of a blood red circle and the letters are in a font most heavy metal bands could appreciate. The girly feathers repeat on the fenders and are embroidered on the seat.
"It's nice, huh?" Ford asks.
"God, yes! He said he'd customize it a bit, but I never imagined he'd go to all this trouble. It's…
stunning
." I laugh a little and look over at him.
He's not even smiling.
"What?"
"That was underwhelming, Rook. You didn't even get them to look at you."
I let out a long breath. "Ford, he's my manager, that's his job. Now leave me alone."
"Rook!" Ronin barks at me from across the room. I can see Ford give me a look out of the corner of my eye but I ignore him.
"Yeah," I reply, turning to walk back over to Ronin.
He meets me halfway, throwing a pissed-off look at Ford who is still back by the bike. "OK, we've agreed to three stops at the different vendors. They're putting the cameras in the truck right now. You drive to three places around town. The painter, the chrome guy, and the upholsterer. Just drop off some bullshit parts, it's all fake, so don't worry about that. Chat the people up, flirt a little maybe, then come back. Ford and your crew will follow in the van. When you get to the shops, let the crew do everything first so they can get shots of you pulling in the parking lot, entering the building. Got it?"
"Yeah, sure. Are you coming with me?"
"Ah…" He hesitates. "No, Elise called, they need me up in Steamboat again, so I'm just gonna drive up there real fast and I'll be back soon. Tonight, probably, tomorrow at the latest."
"What? But it's far, right? You'll never be back that fast!"
"It's only three hours from here, Gidge. I swear, this is the last time, OK? She's just being a freak. I'll be right back. You'll be working anyway, you'll never miss me." And then he does it again. He leans down, kisses me on the cheek and walks off, calling out some last-minute bullshit to Spencer as he goes.
I look back at Ford and he's frowning. He walks over to me. "I'll ride with you, Rook."
"No," I say. "I can drive myself, thanks."
The parts truck is a big-ass mother, red, with a huge ol' Shrike Bikes logo on it. It's like a twin to the one Spencer drives. It's even got flashy chrome exhaust pipes and rims. When I get in, I feel powerful.
I laugh. I have a thingy in my ear so I can hear Ford and a necklace with a microphone on it. They're worried about me getting lost even though they've punched all the addresses into the GPS, so he's talking in my ear as I get situated.
"What so funny?" he asks.
"I love this truck. I might have to buy me one. Ask Spencer if I can have it."
Ford repeats what I said and I can tell he's laughing. I barely make out Spencer's retort, but Ford repeats it for me. "He said if you help him get the full season, this will be one of the many signing bonuses he offers up for the contract."
I buckle myself in, then turn the ignition. The beast rumbles to life and I let out a little squeal. "OK, I'll do my best, Spence." Thankfully this thing is an automatic, so I put it in gear and gun it out of the parking lot, Ford and Spencer following along in the van with the crew, yelling in my ear to slow down.
But my foot has other ideas. I haven't driven in a while and I've never driven a truck. My lead foot is getting even heavier now, so the beast lurches forward with power. I roll my window down and pump my fist back at them as I whoop it up.
And promptly get flashing red and blue lights for my trouble.
"Oh, shit! The po-nine's here!"
"Rook," Ford says very seriously in my earpiece, "do you have a license?"
I pull off to the side of the totally abandoned road. How the hell did the cops even see me out here? We're like ten miles out of town. "Yes, but it's still Illinois."
The cop pulls in behind me and then the van pulls in behind the cop. Spencer jumps out and tries to run interference. He shakes hands with the cop and they walk up to my window together.
"Ma'am—" I'm suddenly having flashbacks of Ronin checking me for drugs and a laugh bursts out.
Spencer and the cop look at me funny.
"I'm not drinking, I swear."
"What?" the cop asks.
"I'm just saying, I'm not drunk or anything, officer. It's just I've never driven a truck like this before and it was so much fun, I got a little carried away." I stop to bat my eyelashes at him. "I'm sorry, I'll tone it down, OK?"
"License and registration."
Fucktard. I reach into my pocket and pull out my license and hand it over. Spencer's already on the other side of the truck fishing through the glove box for the insurance card and registration. When he finds them he hands the papers to me and I pass them along.
The cop takes them, eyeballing Spencer as he shuffles through the glove box, trying to hide a gun under some Dairy Queen napkins. "Please tell me that's not what I think it is."
"It's permitted, Scott. You wanna see my concealed carry card?"
"Only if it has
her
name on it, Spencer. She's the one driving the truck."
I glance over at Spencer and raise my eyebrows. He just shakes his head until the cop walks back to his car and gets inside.
"Goddamn it, Rook! You're on the road thirty seconds and you get pulled over!"
"Am I gonna get busted for that gun in the glove box?"
"I'm not sure. He could be a dick about that, but it's not technically illegal—we could fight it. I forgot it was in here to be honest, I have guns stashed everywhere. And you driving like Danica Patrick isn't fucking helping the situation. This might be the Wild West, but you can't piss off the locals like that, Rook!"
"That's not fair, Spencer! It's the middle of nowhere!" I look around trying to figure out where the cop came from but all I see is a little dirt road that leads up a hill and some cows munching on grass across the way.
"Well, if you'd listened to me when you were busy gunnin' it, I would've told you that a cop lives right up that road and that's where he eats his lunch every day."