The Rider List: An Erotic Romance (22 page)

Chapter Thirty-Two

Evan

The sun shines in through the floor-to-ceiling window, waking me up, and I’m disoriented for a moment until I remember that I’m in my condo in Denver. It’s been a couple of months since I slept here, and before that, I hadn’t been here in eight months.

It’s a two-bedroom luxury condo on the seventh floor of a downtown high-rise. The master bedroom and the den each have the huge windows, the floors are a dark mahogany, there’s track lighting throughout the place, and I spared no expense when furnishing it. The only thing missing is pictures. Not a single one. No family photo, no band pictures, no art, nothing on the walls at all.

I bought it four years ago, and as I get ready to catch a flight back to Charleston, I realize that this is not a home at all. It’s no more of a home than all of the hotel rooms I’ve stayed in over the years, and no more of a home than the bungalow I’ve rented for the summer.

Brushing my teeth, looking in the mirror, these thoughts make me feel cold and empty. I have an expensive condo that’s paid off, I can go out and buy a car and pay for it all at once, I can fly anywhere in the world and stay there, I can do anything I want and not worry about the expense. The one thing I can’t do is purchase a home. Not a house, not a condo, not a ranch or a bungalow…a true home.

Shaking off those hollow thoughts, I finish getting ready for the flight. Packing takes just a few minutes, and checking to make sure my flight is on time is done in seconds on my phone. I notice I have no missed calls or texts from the band. Good.

I open the texts from Audrey last night. The way she responded after misreading my “I fucking miss you” text makes me laugh and all I can think is that this flight can’t go by fast enough.

Leaving Denver in two hours,
I text her.

I sling my bag over one shoulder, my guitar over the other, and open the door to my condo, turning around one more time and looking around.

Nothing. No feelings at all. I won’t miss this place. I don’t even know if I’ll see it again. I’ve got the bare bones of a plan brewing in my mind, and if it all works out, there will be no reason for me to step foot in this place again. I can have my clothes shipped to me. The rest of the stuff can be donated somewhere, or maybe even included for whoever buys it.

I step into the hall, close the door, lock it, walk a few steps and push a button to call up the elevator that will hopefully take me downstairs in this building for the last time.

Audrey texts back:
Can’t wait! Let me know when you’re home.

Home.

I know she probably used it in place of “back” or “here,” but her timing couldn’t be better, considering the weight that word carries today.

. . . . .

A little more than six hours later, I exit the Charleston airport and wait for the shuttle to take me to the lot where I parked my car. The humidity makes the air heavy on top of the oppressive heat, and coming from bone-dry Denver, it’s oddly comforting—like a welcome back sign to a place I really want to be.

Thirty minutes later, I’m crossing the bridge that leads to the island. It’s just high enough to give a view of the ocean when you get over the crest, and I can see the hotel part of the resort off in the distance. I text Audrey at a stoplight to let her know I’ll be there in minutes.

Pulling into the driveway, I look around but don’t see her. I get out of the car, grab my bag and guitar from the backseat, and head up the steps.

The key is barely in the lock when the door swings open and she’s standing there with a smile on her face that makes me want to look at her forever.

Stepping inside, I drop my bag and lay my guitar case down. We hug, and it’s a long one, a firm one, like I’ve been away for months or years and she thought she’d never see me again.

“I’m so glad you’re back,” she says.

“I’m glad you were waiting for me.” I kiss her forehead. She lifts her head and we lock on to each other’s eyes. “The only thing that would’ve been better is if you had been naked.”

She laughs. “Still could be.”

“I like the way you think.”

I lower my head and our noses touch, and then we’re in a ferociously hot kiss. I pick her up and she wraps her legs around me. Moving a few steps forward, her back is against the wall and I’m pressing against her, hard as a steel rod, not simply wanting to fuck her, but
needing
to.

“You’re gonna have to wait,” she says into my mouth.

“Tease.”

She laughs a little. “I’m serious. I have an idea.”

We’re slowing down now, as impossible as that seems.

She doesn’t look me in the eye when she says, “I want you to come to my house tonight.” Then she looks up, almost like she needed to get the words out without reading my face, and only then could she look at me.

“Really…” I’m a bit surprised. I immediately think this is going to be some kind of meet-my-mom kind of thing. That would be fine, except for the fact that it doesn’t sound like the ideal situation for being alone with Audrey, which is the one thing I want, actually
need
most right now.

Then she clarifies. “My mom will be at work, and Sophie is spending the night with a friend. I want you there.”

“Of course I’ll come.”

She smiles.

“Did you think I’d say no?”

She shrugs. “I didn’t know.”

I kiss her. “I want to be with you no matter where it is. You shouldn’t doubt me.”

She doesn’t say anything, she just kisses me harder.

I pull away. “But…if I can’t have you now, you’re going to need to stay at least ten feet from me at all time when you’re here. Otherwise, you’re going to find yourself naked and—”

“Trying to tease me?” she says, playfully.

“Maybe a little.”

She steps toward the front door and grabs the handle. “Seriously, I have a lot to get done. Tonight. I promise you won’t regret it.”

. . . . .

Going to Audrey’s house wasn’t something I expected, today or at any time, for that matter. But that’s where I find myself just before 7 p.m. as I pull into her driveway.

She’s waiting at the front door, wearing a white sundress that ends halfway down her thighs, and makes her golden tan stand out even more than it usually does. She’s barefoot, her hair is pulled back into a ponytail that hangs over her left shoulder.

She looks nervous, the closer I get, eyes shifting from left to right as if she’s looking to see if any neighbors see her letting this strange guy into her house.

“Are we being watched?” I whisper, but loudly.

She smiles. “Shut up and get in here.” She reaches for me, grabbing my wrist and pulling me into the house.

I turn around as she’s closing the door. She locks it, and her back is still to me. I move up against her, my hands on her hips, my lips on her exposed neck. “You smell amazing.” My hands drift down to the hem of her dress. I lift it a little, working it up between our bodies. “Damn, I was hoping for no panties.”

She pushes her ass against me, rubbing my hard cock, and she laughs a little.

“You’re playing around,” I say, “but keep doing this for more than a couple of seconds and see what happens.”

She turns quickly to face me. “Wow.”

I raise my eyebrows. “What?”

“That almost sounded like a threat.” She’s fighting back a grin.

My eyes squint as I act like I’m considering what she said. “No, more like a promise. And don’t think I wouldn’t have kept it if you hadn’t spun around like this.” I look down at her chest as my fingers find the front hem of her dress. “Although,” I say, dragging the word out as I slowly lift it, “I did want you from behind, but front will do.”

Jesus, I’m as horny as I can remember, even all the times I’ve been with Audrey. It’s being in this house. Her house. She’s invited me into a previously closed-off part of her world, letting me see a little more of who she is.

My attraction to her has been more than simply physical for a while now, with each new little bit I’ve learned about her, and that aspect of it is ratcheting up quickly.

“You hungry?” she asks.

I laugh. “Not the least bit.”

“Good. Me either. I did make dinner, though, and we’re going to eat at some point or you’re taking some home with you.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“I’m twenty-two, don’t say that.” She takes my hand and our fingers interlock. “Come on.” She leads me into the den. “Quick tour. My bedroom is last.”

“Make it very quick.” I look around the room and see what anyone would characterize as an ordinary den or living room. Except for the pictures on the mantle. I walk over to it. Audrey follows.

She looks nothing like her mom but her little sister looks exactly like a young version of their mother. There are two pictures of the three of them, several pictures of Sophie, and three of Audrey.

Two of them are high school and college graduation pictures, the third appears to have been taken on prom night. “Lucky guy,” I say, looking over to her. She frowns and shrugs it off. I don’t say anything more. She’s never mentioned any old boyfriends, and I’ve never talked about any old girlfriends. It’s probably better that way, for now at least.

I follow her upstairs and down a short hallway, then into her room. She closes the door behind us. The walls are a light shade of pink, covered in framed photos and poster art. Above her bed hang her initials in script lettering cut from wood and painted with little flowers. She has a table with one trophy on it and a track team photograph.

It’s like this room hasn’t changed since she was in high school. This is a representation of the innocent Audrey Mitchell, the good girl who was on the track team, probably made straight A’s. All I can think about is that I know another side of her, the side that likes to be tied up, likes to lock her ankles behind my neck while I’m licking her, the side of the girl who swallows when I come in her mouth, the girl who just recently proved there’s no part of her that’s off limits to me.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Audrey

I’m more than a little anxious with him in my room, but it’s a good feeling, anticipating what we’re about to do.

Evan looks around for a couple of minutes, and then turns his focus to me. He steps toward me, puts his arms around my waist, and he falls backward onto the bed, pulling me on top of him.

“That’s a new noise.”

My face is less than an inch from his. “What is?”

“That squeal.”

“I didn’t squeal.”

He grins. “Oh, yes you did. Let’s see if you do it again.”

With a quick move, his arms tightly around my waist, he reverses our position. He’s over me, hovering, and he has one more surprise. He flips me over onto my stomach. I press my lips together, trying not to let that noise out of my mouth. I know he wants to hear it, but if he wants to be playful, I’ll play along and he’s going to have to work to get me to do it again.

He lifts up my dress and pulls my panties down just enough to expose my ass. I feel his body shift, and then his lips on the back of my upper thigh, then his teeth grazing and biting one of my cheeks.

“You’re holding back,” he says.

“You’re not biting hard enough.”

I had intended to tease him, just a joke, but he took it as a challenge. I guess I walked into that one. He bites again, harder, and I can’t stop the noise from escaping my mouth.

Evan laughs. “Gotcha.”

He tugs my panties down my legs, turns me over and pulls the dress over my head as I unhook my bra.

Dipping his head, he licks one of my nipples, sucks it into his mouth and pulls on it a little, letting it go with a wet pop sound. “These drive me crazy.”

He kneels and with one smooth motion, removes his shirt, tossing it to the floor. He slides off the bed and stands. I move over to the edge and unbuckle his belt, unzip his pants and let them fall.

Pulling down his boxers, his cock springs free. Fully erect, rigid. For me. I move my head forward…

He grips his cock at the base and runs the head across my lips. I open my mouth, expecting him to slide in, but instead he moves it back and forth across my lips. I close my eyes and move my head slightly forward to take him in, but there’s nothing. Opening my eyes, I see him holding his cock to the side, just far enough away that I can’t reach it with my mouth. My gaze drifts up his body. He’s grinning, his stare practically burning a hole through me.

“Tease.” I close my mouth and he touches the tip to my lips again.

“Such a perfect visual,” he says. “But I can’t wait any longer to fuck you.” There’s something about the way he urgently says his demand that makes it even hotter and makes me want to do whatever he says. That’s what my brain registers. My body doesn’t need to process his words—it just responds as if by reflex.

He’s on top of me, his tongue tracing a line from my navel up to my chest, sweeping along the underside of the swell of my breast.

Evan takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking, pulling on it between his lips. When I feel his teeth lightly graze across it, I let out a deep sigh. I close my eyes, my back arching into him, pressing against his face, wanting him to lick and suck harder.

He lets go just long enough to say, “I want to hear you talk dirty this time.”

I don’t say anything back. I’ve never done that before, and I’m not sure what to say without sounding stupid.

Evan sucks my nipple into his mouth again, this time for a long moment, drawing it out, then moving from one nipple to the other, moaning deep in this throat.

He moves his way up my body, licking as he goes, I feel the weight of his cock, first on my thigh and then notching between my legs as he nips at my lips and tongue.

He moves his hips, letting his erection glide along my wetness.

I don’t think I’ll be able to take this much longer. I need him inside me.

“Do it,” I say, pulling away from his mouth.

“You don’t want to rush this, do you?”

Through my shaky breathing I manage to say, “No.”

“Should I make you beg for it?”

“Please don’t,” I say immediately.

His mouth curls into a smile and he growls: “That’s almost begging. Do you want it?”

“Yeah.” My voice is almost nothing but air rushing from my body.

“Tell me you want my cock.”

She inhaled sharply. “I want it.”

“Say the words.”

My words come out loudly, almost with desperation: “I want your cock,” quickly followed by, “No condom. I’m on the pill.”

There’s silence for several seconds as he teases me by continuing to slide along me, and a grin grows across his face. “Fuck.” He kisses me again. “I have a lot of self-control, but my cock doesn’t. We can always do it fast and hard, then go again, you know.”

“Do it… Yes, now I’m begging.”

Evan kneels between my legs, pushing them open wide.

I close my eyes, reflexively.

“Open your eyes, Audrey. I love seeing that gorgeous face when I’m inside you.”

A hot wave of desire rolls through my body in response to his words.

He loves control. Loves the power.

And I’m more than willing to give it to him.

Our faces are millimeters apart, noses almost touching.

We lock gazes and before I can process anything else, he pushes inside me. A long, slow, even thrust.

My breath stalls. I struggle to keep my eyes open so he can see them. He doesn’t blink as he watches my reaction.

My mouth involuntarily forms the shape of an O, and I gasp in a deep breath.

Evan starts slow and deep, then faster, kneeling again, leaning over and taking a nipple into his mouth once more.

My hands are on his head, fingers grasping his short hair. I hold onto him that way as his movement becomes more powerful, bucking my hips and making them rise off the bed.

From his kneeling position, his hands engulf my hips, turning me, and before I know it I’m on my stomach.

I feel the weight on the bed shift. Evan is moving away from me. I look over my shoulder and see him reaching to the floor.

He picks up whatever he had reached for and returns behind me.

Without saying anything, he stretches my arms straight over my head. I raise my eyes to try to follow what he was doing and see the black fabric.

“Ever been tied to your own bed?” he asks.

“No.”

“Good.” His voice is low, throaty, rough. “I like being your first.”

He wraps the scarf around my wrists, then loops it through an opening in the headboard. Grabbing a pillow, he lifts my body and slides it beneath my hips.

“Do you love my cock inside you?”

“Yessss.”

“Say it, Audrey.”

“I love your cock. I love it when you fuck me.”

“Like this?”

He has spread my legs and slipped inside me again, just a little.

“Yeah,” I whisper.

And he pushes into me fully again.

With my hands bound and tied to my own bed, I’m powerless and totally at his mercy, and this is one of the best, most thrilling things I’ve ever felt in my life.

“I have to see you.” He pulls out and turns me over, and he’s back inside me in a half-second. I feel his erection twitch, then pulsate more, twitch again and then he says, “Fuck, I’m gonna come. Come with me.”

I watch as he looks down at himself plunging in and out.

His face going red.

His eyes squinting.

The cords in his neck flexing along with the muscles in his chest and stomach.

Evan’s body is straining with pleasure as he powerfully moves inside me. It’s as though our bodies have merged into one. For a fleeting couple of seconds, I think that if this intensity stopped my heartbeat, his would be enough to keep both of us alive.

He’s been holding his breath for a few seconds, before letting it out and groaning. My breaths become gasps as my orgasm causes my muscles to clench around him and I’m making a noise I’ve never made before.

Evan’s eyes are wide, watching me, his mouth slightly open.

I grab his thick arms tightly, my nails digging into his skin. That seems to pull him over the edge with me.

His head drops next to mine. He’s breathing heavily as he comes and he’s saying, “I could do this with you forever.”

. . . . .

I’ve gone downstairs, naked but wrapped in a sheet, and come back up with two beers and a single plate of food for us to share. I hadn’t planned on serving dinner in my bedroom—who does?—but neither of us wanted to get dressed and go downstairs. When I get back to my room, Evan is in his boxers, putting a large beach towel on the floor.

He looks up when I come into the room. “Indoor picnic.”

“I see that.” I laugh as I sit next to him.

The large plate holds diced grilled chicken, with roasted tomatoes and olives over penne pasta. We eat like we’re both starving, lots of silence except for the occasional remark about the food.

Evan goes downstairs for two more beers after we’ve eaten, and I figure this is a good time to bring up the trip.

He’s lying on his side, propped up on his elbow. I’m sitting cross-legged, facing him.

“I felt nothing,” he begins. “I stepped onstage and I wasn’t nervous, either in a good way or bad. It was just instant.” He snaps his fingers. “I knew I didn’t want to be back there, playing with the band.”

“The pictures you sent were great. I also saw some online, late, after the concert.” I lean toward him and playfully say, “You’re pretty hot, you know that?”

He laughs, and I’m glad because I know this conversation isn’t easy for him and I want him to be relaxed. I want him to feel like he can tell me anything, everything, because he can.

“I talked to the guys after the show. Told them I wasn’t staying. It wasn’t pretty. I barely said anything, I just let them vent.”

I reach out and touch his hand, slipping my fingers between his. He closes his hand and locks our fingers together.

“It’s fine,” he says. “I don’t have to make any choices right now.”

This makes me think immediately of the idea that Stacy had planted in my head—the one about the indie music route. I don’t even know if Evan would want to do that, and I don’t get a chance to ask because he has more he wants to tell me.

“My family is selling the ranch,” he says, and I listen intently as he tells me all about it. “I’m happy for my parents. My dad didn’t seem disappointed at all. I think he’s ready for the change. And my mom deserves this.” He tells me about his middle brother, who sounds sweet, and his older brother, who sounds like a world-class asshole.

Evan opens up about his childhood, telling me how his oldest brother Dale was a fuckup and has spent the last twenty-plus years trying to make up for it by putting other people down and trying to make himself look like the dependable, upstanding family man.

“I couldn’t give a shit about the past,” Evan says, sipping his beer. “But he’s never going to get over it. We all just put up with it.”

He tells me how Dale relentlessly criticized Evan’s chosen profession.

“Sounds jealous,” I say.

Evan shrugs it off. “Nah, he’s just a dick. I’m so glad the ranch thing is settled. Now there’s no pressure to go back and help out.”

“So what are you going to do?”

He sips his beer and looks over at the wall for a moment, thinking hard, then looks back at me. “No idea.” He smiles, then breaks out into a laugh. “I really don’t know. I’m under no pressure to do anything.”

Now seems like a good time, so I bring up the idea Stacy had. “I don’t know if you would even do this. It might seem like a step down from the level you’re on, but have you ever thought of releasing your music independently?”

He surprised me by saying, without hesitation, “I have, and I’ve been thinking more about it since the plane took off in Denver. The idea came up a couple of years ago, but I wasn’t ready, you know? Now, though? I can see myself being a studio musician, releasing stuff as I want, playing smaller venues. That’s something I think might make me happy. I just need to get someone to handle the business and legal side of it. But, yeah, that’s option number one right now.”

I’m so elated, I can’t hold it back, and I tell him about what Stacy said. “So I know someone. She can refer you to some people locally.”

Evan looks down, then back up to me. “You talked to someone about all of this?”

Oh, shit. He doesn’t look happy, and now I’m regretting telling him and also telling Stacy anything. “A little, yes. She’s my closest friend, and I didn’t tell her much.”

“I wish you wouldn’t have done that.” He releases his hand from mine.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

“I asked you on day one about discretion, Audrey. I didn’t want anyone to know who I was or that I was here, or…anything.” His voice is flat, not angry, and this isn’t an argument so much as it is an excruciatingly uncomfortable situation.