[AN: Oh, look - there's more sexual content! You know the drill by now. If you want to skip over the sexual content, go to the first '-------'. Enjoy~]
~Chapter Thirty-Five: Welcome Home~
I collapse face first onto Ryland's bed with relief, glad to finally be back in the familiar space of his apartment. "I missed you so much," I mumble into the neatly-tucked sheets. It is soft and smells like him, which is everything I could want in a bed.
From somewhere in the main part of the room, Ryland lets his amusement be known with an undignified snort of laughter. "We have only been gone for two days," he reminds me. The sound of our bags hitting a solid surface follow his words and it is only a few seconds later that the bed is dipping under his weight.
I turn my head to look at his sprawled out form. "Two days is a long time," I protest jokingly, only smiling when he rolls onto his side to look at me properly. "Especially when surrounded by a pride of hungry lions."
"Hungry?" He asks, eyes gleaming with unspent laughter. "I remember you complaining about there being too much food earlier."
Memories of our 'snack' come floating back, causing me to groan. "Your mother is a great woman, but she could scare off the Cardinal Sin of Gluttony with all the food she makes," I grumble, burying my face back into the blanket. Eating three full meals in five hours was a terrible idea.
"Without a doubt," he agrees, one of his hands sliding across the bed to brush my face. I lean into the touch, and then promptly turn my head and bite the closest finger. Instead of pulling back like I expected, he wiggles his finger around in my mouth, ignoring the scrape of my teeth, and presses a kiss to my forehead. "We're finally alone."
My eyes widen a fraction as I consider his meaning. After a few seconds of thinking, I releasing his finger and rolling onto my back. Almost instantly, he is kissing me. I smile into it, which prompts him to stick his tongue into my mouth. My smile vanishes as the kiss grows more heated and I grip the back of his head to make sure he does not try to go anywhere. His tongue slowly slides across the roof of my mouth and-
I pull back right as a sound resembling a giggle leaves my throat. Ryland's eyebrows shoot up as confusion sets in for us both. Experimentally, I lightly run my tongue along the roof of my mouth and suppress a shiver at the ticklish sensation. "What the hell?" I ask no one in particular.
At least I am not the only one with a ticklish mouth, since his own barely-repressed shiver indicates that he was trying it as well. His eyebrows crawl up even higher, which I did not think was possible. "It's odd that we never noticed this before," he mutters, eyes meeting mine. I am about to shrug it off as one of those weird, random things, when Ryland's expression darkens considerably with an evil smirk. "Is it true you're ticklish?"
The culprit behind this dangerous knowledge is obvious. "Dylan," I growl, even though he clearly cannot hear me. I shove off the bed immediately, knowing what will happen if I fail to escape. Even if I lie, he will still want to test it out just to be sure. To my regret, I was not fast enough and his hand catches my wrist before I can fully leave the bed.
After a great deal of struggling, cursing, and threats that we both know I will do my best to fulfill later, I end up in the center of the bed, seated between Ryland's legs with his ankles holding mine down. Somehow, in our struggle, he managed to pull my shirt most of the way off, leaving just my arms trapped in the fabric confinements behind my back, pressed between our bodies. One of his arms wraps around my upper torso to hold me in place, leaving his other hand free for the torture yet to come.
On the bright side, my leg doesn't hurt. Yet.
"Damn it, Ryland," I snarl, still struggling despite how pointless it is.
He just breathes out a soft chuckle at my efforts. "This will be fun," he says, which is my only warning before his free hand ghosts down my uninjured side. The action goads a drawn-out groan at the weird sensation of the growing sensitivity. Encouraged by the sound, his fingers plunge into my armpit, wiggling about. I struggle harder, my legs trying to kick out, and I shout with barely-contained laughter.
"Ry..."I start, but it is drowned out by my sudden fit of laughter as the tickling is turned up a notch by his fingers teasing my side again, skillfully finding the spots that get to me the most. It is not long before I am wiggling and thrashing with slightly breathless laughter.
Eventually, he has to take a break to allow me to breathe again and I gasp in deep lungfuls of air now that I can. It is not long into the break that I notice a familiar sensation building in my gut, leading me to moan at my luck. "You seem to be excited," Ryland says in my ear, running his hand along the edge of my waistband. "Ready to continue?"
I open my mouth to protest, but it is too late and a peel of laughter escapes instead of words. The feeling grows, my pants becoming uncomfortably tight, but the tickling alone is not enough to get me all the way there. Though, it does make my mind slightly hazy with more primal urges, as well as give me an idea to get him to stop tormenting me.
My head hits his shoulder while my hands seek out the perfect position to comfortably grab his crotch. All too soon, I have to give up since my hands are firmly stuck and certain positions make it hard to breathe, which is dangerous when I am already gasping for oxygen. So, I settle for twisting my head around during the next tickle break and kissing any part of his jaw that I can reach, wanting him to end the torture and accept my suggestion.
"Want you," I mutter in between kisses. To my relief, he does not resume the tickle torture again, letting me continue kissing his face. However, he doesn't move like I want him to, either, leaving me to resort to the one thing I hate doing the most. Begging. "Please. Need you."
His chest vibrates with a humanoid purr, but the only other sign that he is interested is the tightening of his arm around my shoulder. He makes no move to accept my offer. "What was that, amore mio?" He teasingly asks, ever-so-slowly running his free hand up and down my side. Goosebumps rise all over my skin, but the threat of him continuing only spurs me on.
"No one can interrupt us now," I answer, tilting my head back further to give him better access to my throat. When he fails to take it, I growl, which makes him laugh. A little pissed that he is still trying to play games, I turn my head and bite his neck, hard enough to leave a mark on the otherwise unblemished skin.
The snap of his control is almost audible as he releases me long enough to flip me around and push me onto my back before he has me surrounded once more, my arms stuck under me because of the damn shirt. "No take-backs," he says.
"You're five," I grumble, trying to roll my eyes at his choice of words, but failing miserably when his mouth crashes down on mine and my eyes close without my consent. Not that I am complaining, though.
"Five-year-olds don't know how to do this," he says, pulling away so that he can start nibbling on one of my nipples. His teasing makes me whine, but I definitely do not want him to stop that.
However, that does not mean I am going to hold back my reply. "Actually, a five-year-old would," I point out. At least, any child that was breast-fed would. Ryland just growls at me, since there is not much he can say back to that. However, when his mouth moves from my chest down to my navel, my little victory is suddenly not as important anymore. "Shit."
I lift my head to watch as he sucks on the hollow of my navel, sucking in a breath when he meets and holds my gaze while continuing to play with my belly. One of his hands is playing with my waistband, but makes no move to take it off. Since I am not really in the mood to beg again, I wiggle around until I manage to free my hand, which is a lot easier in this position. Successful, I grab his shoulder and pull him back up so that our mouths are together again.
Now with him in reach, I fumble with the zipper of his jeans and slip a couple of fingers inside to slide over his hard-on behind the underwear. A shiver going down his spine forces the kiss to stop for a moment as he focuses on the feeling of my fingers in his jeans. It seems to do the trick, because he is suddenly shoving my pants and underwear down and pulling them off. They disappear over the edge of the bed.
I hiss when one of his warm hands finds my hard dick and starts palming it while the other comes between the sheets and my ass, gripping one cheek, but going no further. His tongue dips into the shallow indent at the base of my throat before he starts sucking on my Adam's apple, eliciting another moan from me. My fingers, which were freed of his pants when he started taking mine off, make quick work of the button on his jeans, making it possible for me to fit my entire hand into his pants now.
I shouldn't be the only one enjoying-
Ryland growls at me as he pulls my hand from his pants. "Not now," he rumbles. Nevertheless, he proceeds to take his jeans and shirt off, leaving only his underwear while I am completely naked.
A hand starts to slide between my ass cheeks when Ryland pauses and pulls away completely. Before I can stop the sound, a small whine leaves my throat when Ryland moves away. "What are you doing?" I demand, wondering if he just got cold feet. Because, if anyone should be getting cold feet, it is me, not him.
"Lubricant," he answers, already rummaging through the bedside table's drawers. I hear a lot of rattling objects, but remain in my position on my back, glaring at the ceiling. Suddenly, the drawer slams shut. "Merda."
Without explaining what is wrong, Ryland leaves the bed. I tilt my head a little so I can follow his movements as he crouches down at the foot of the bed to look for something over the drop-off. I should be angry that he left me lying here, but his ass looks too good in those perfectly-sized briefs. I roll onto my side, ignoring the pain caused by pressing my injury into the fabric, to get a better view of him as he bends over to grab something on the shelves next to the stairs.
Once Ryland straightens up with something gripped tightly in his hand, he pauses when he catches me watching him. His eyebrows rise, but otherwise he does not look all that surprised, which makes me wonder if he was intentionally giving me a view. For the third time tonight, I find myself unable to care as much as I should.
Ryland sits down at my feet and I can clearly see the object he retrieved now – the bottle of lube he was looking for. Determined to get this over with, I meet his gaze and nod, figuring that is what he is waiting for. It is the only confirmation he needs before he makes me roll onto my back again and scooting a little closer so he is between my spread legs.
"Tell me if it starts hurting," he says, popping the cap and squirting the lubricant on his fingers. While I am a little disappointed that he is not paying attention to my aching hard-on, it is probably a good idea, since I am already pretty close. It would be pretty embarrassing if I got off before he even got a finger in.
He only circles my entrance a couple of times before he slides most of his finger in. It has been less than a day since the last time he did this, making it a little easier to adjust, but it is still the most awkward feeling ever and I wiggle around a little while he moves his finger before he pulls out temporarily to add a second one.
It does feel uncomfortable and there is a bit of a stretch, but there is no pain. The repetitive motions of his fingers gradually make me relax, as it feels more like a weird massage. But then his finger grazes that one spot that sends me into a total brain meltdown. I reflexively arch up, but not away, from his touch. While it does not make me temporarily blind like the first time, it is has the same effect that the tickling had.
Seeing how much I enjoyed it, he continues to tease the spot, milking it for all it is worth. I lose track of everything around me and concentrate on both the incredible sensation – because, seriously, who couldn't? – and fighting back my climax. Only when he stops to add a third finger do I return to my senses. It seems like the third finger makes it hard, if not impossible, to touch that spot, so I twine my fingers into his hair and pull him down for a kiss instead.
He is happy to give me the distraction from his fingers up my ass. Though, it only lasts for so long before he pulls his fingers out for the last time. "Are you sure?" He asks, watching me closely.
To hell with it all, it's not like we can get an STD.
"Get on with it," I growl, feeling that a simple 'yeah' would be too weak and fail to convey my interest in finally reaching my climax. Though, my out-of-breath tone does kind of ruin the tough, I-can-handle-anything image I was going for.
With a determined nod, he pulls off his briefs, applies lube, and lines himself up – one hand on my thigh and lifting my hips, the other holding himself. I close my eyes to block out reality, but when something presses against my entrance, my eyes fly open because closing them is a terrible, terrible idea; it only directs my attention to my other senses, namely touch. So, I grit my teeth and stare at the ceiling like it is the only thing that matters as he slowly slides in.
He takes it inch by inch, pausing to let me adjust a little before continuing, but it is not long before he is complete in and my backside feels like it is on fire. While the preparation made sure it does not hurt too much, it still stings, kind of ruining the pleasure previously built up. Ryland has been watching my face the entire time, so he must know when it becomes semi-bearable. Slowly, he starts to pull back.
I release a hiss, fighting the urge to tell him to stop. Hesitation for only a second, he pulls most of the way out before slowly moving back in, which I know is secretly killing him, if the look of pure concentration on his face is any indication. A couple of thrusts later, it feels less fiery and more this-is-weird-but-I-kind-of-like-it. A few more thrusts, and I start to actually enjoy the weird sensation. Especially when his hand returns to my dick, slowly returning it to its former hard-on glory.
Suddenly, he picks up the pace, but instead of hissing at the slight pain it brings, I moan, because his hand is matching his thrusting speed. "Ti amo, amore mio," he growls, voice low and husky. Ryland begins kissing his way down my chest, starting at my throat.
I bare my teeth at him when he gives a particularly rough thrust while teasing the skin just above my nipple with his teeth, but that does not mean it was not a pleasant feeling and he knows it, which is why he does it again. I want to buck him off so he stops trying to leave bite marks on my chest, but I end up pressing up into it instead.
"You suck," I grunt, which only encourages him to actually suck on my skin. The incredibly tight feeling in my gut keeps me from saying any more legible sentences, only growls and moans.
His hand does something amazing to the tip of my dick and I am suddenly releasing with a shout. I slump back onto the bed, with only his hands on my hips holding me up while he continues to thrust. The aftereffect of my climax leaves me sensitive to every little touch, so I feel every movement he makes, every nerve he hits, and yet am unable to tell him to stop because my mouth refuses to work. Not that I want him to stop, since it feels so damn good.
Not even a full minute later, he pushes forward with one more deep thrust before releasing inside me. This time when I groan, it is from him landing on top of me as he momentarily loses the ability to hold himself up. It takes him a moment, but when he finally stirs, he wraps his arms around me and rolls us over so that he is no longer crushing me. The movement causes him to slide part of the way out, but he does not seem interested in finished the job, instead keeping me impaled on his dick.
While I want to argue about that, I let him distract me with a gentle kiss that leaves me humming happily against his bare chest. "Nice," I murmur, pressing a few kisses to his neck and making him purr.
"Do you think you would be up for a second round in a little while?" He asks after a moment, and I prop myself up on my elbows to glare down at him. Ryland grins when he sees my expression of disbelief.
"You're a sadist," I growl, but it isn't exactly a 'no'.
- - - - - - -
"Couldn't we have just stayed at your place?" I groan, rubbing my fingers over my eyes in a failing attempt to keep sleep away. The constant rumbling of the truck engine is lulling me to sleep, though, and I am not all that against giving in. The only reason I haven't is homework.
"Your books are there," Ryland reminds me, even though I already know. It is not like I can do homework without them...not that I really want to do it in the first place. We had not one, not two, but three rounds of sex and not only does it hurt to be seated right now, but I am exhausted. The only reason I am capable of thinking is the long nap Ryland and I took on the flight.
After a moment, I pull out my phone, needing something to stimulate my mind so I can stay awake. How Ryland is still functioning is a mystery. While scrolling through websites, I spot something that momentarily drives me from my sleep-hazy state. "Shit!"
Ryland starts, not prepared for my sudden exclamation that might have been a little too loud to have been used inside the small truck cab. "What is it?" He asks, glancing at me after he safely made the turn onto the dirt road leading to my cabin.
"I forgot what today is," I grumble, quickly typing away at my phone. It is only eight in Oregon, so it should be fine. When we left Italy, it was late in the afternoon there, but very early here. Since I wanted to let my mother sleep in before sending the text, I had to wait until the jet touched down to use my phone. Though, I forgot about it until just now. Happy Mother's Day, my text reads, right before it disappears behind a 'message sent' notification.
While I could do so much better if I was closer to them, I think I have done enough travelling this weekend and with classes tomorrow, it would be a bad idea. I will just have to make my next visit extra special by taking them out to dinner or something. Content for now, I flip the phone shut now that I have fulfilled my duties as a son.
However, I end up squinting at my closed phone a moment later, wondering if my eyes were playing tricks on me. Just to be sure, I open my phone again and, sure enough, there is a little notification saying I missed three calls from my mother a few hours ago, as well as one from my dad and two from Victoria. I know I didn't miss someone's birthday and mine isn't for a couple of weeks.
I am considering calling my mother back when we stop in front of my cabin. Still staring at me phone, I put my hand on the door handle to get out, only to stop when Ryland asks, "What do you think he wants?"
Confused, I look at him, and then the SUV parked near the tree in front of my cabin. There does not appear to be anyone inside it, but since it is one of Dylan's, they must be waiting inside. That stupid wolf does not know when to not invite himself in.
"You're his texting buddy. Shouldn't you know?" I snap, too tired to care that I am taking my anger out on him unjustly. Pushing the door open before I can feel bad and try to apologize, I exit the truck and push the phone into my pocket. Everything can wait until I am free of unnecessary distractions.
I rest my hand on the doorknob for a moment while testing the air, just to make sure it is actually Dylan and not some random wolf sent to check up on me before I go storming inside and giving him a piece of my mind. While it is Dylan, he is not alone. Though, the people know me well enough to not care how I make my entrance.
Opening the door, I step inside, leaving it open for Ryland to come in once he is ready. "I'm too tired to kill you; come back tomorrow," I announce while toeing off my shoes in the entryway. Thankfully, they took their shoes off as well, because I am not in the mood to clean my floors because of the mud outside.
"Cade, I know you're angry-" Dylan starts, but I cut him off by holding up my hand.
I turn to look at him standing only a few feet away. If I lean forward and stretch, I might just be able to get my hands around his neck. "You know what, come here. I think I have enough energy for a couple of hits," I growl, kicking my shoes to the side and stepping towards him.
However, a hand grabs the back of my shirt to pull me away. "You are very cute when you are angry," Ryland murmurs into my ear, and I grimace at the 'cute' part, "but now isn't the time to kill the poor wolf. There are witnesses."
Hmm, he has a good point.
"Hey!" Dylan protests, but the 'witnesses' only laugh. I look past the worried wolf to Erika and Markus, who are relaxing on my couches, both of them turned in our direction.
"This had better be important," I warn him, brushing by him once Ryland lets my shirt go so I can get to the kitchen. If I plan to stay awake for this, I am going to need coffee...but I still don't have a coffee machine. Right. Caffeinated tea it is.
Looks like I won't be getting any homework done tonight.
While I am rummaging around in my search to find the teakettle, Erika joins me in the kitchen, seating herself on the counter. "I actually came here to talk to Ryland," Dylan explains, and while I cannot see his face, he probably does not look happy about going toe-to-toe with a lion. It takes me a moment to realize that he is not talking to me when he adds, "You can't just fly off to Italy without warning. I thought I would have to hunt you down for taking a member of my pack."
"He's not part of your pack anymore. Cade is a member of the North Italia pride," Ryland argues. "I can take him home whenever I want."
Oh, great, a custody battle.
Thankfully, Erika rolls her eyes for me, since I would probably pass out if I did it; in fact, the ground is looking pretty comfortable right about now. "Have you been sleeping enough?" She asks, no doubt noticing my use of the edge of the sink for support while I fill up the teakettle. I can blame that on both exhaustion and the discomfort from my ass. At least our mate bond is stronger than ever and the crazy, fickle emotions seem to have settled.
"Yeah," I answer, but it comes out softer than I intended and she eyes me skeptically, so I add, "It's just been a really long day."
She seems to accept that answer and starts to kick her feet out a little. It has a kind of lulling effect, leading me to grab the sink harder and look away. The verbal battle has become pretty intense in the living room, to the point where even Markus has joined in, despite being the most passive Beta I have ever met. I would tune into it, but they just seem to be going over the same point of where I 'belong'.
"How are things between you and Ryland?" Erika asks after a moment, probably trying to keep me awake since I had started to sway. I really need to get them out of my house, or to get over it and crash on my bed, ignoring them all.
Aware that even though they are fighting, Dylan and Ryland will hear everything I say, I shrug. "Pretty good," I reply, refusing to go into detail with capable eavesdroppers around. Besides, even if they were not around, it would feel awkward to talk about it with a girl, even one I know well. I should probably try to find Cameron tomorrow – or wait for the vampire to find me between classes – and talk to him.
Before she can ask another question, my phone starts to vibrate. I tug it out of my pocket and frown at the number on my caller ID. Holding up a finger for silence, I answer it. "Hey, Mom," I greet, taking the boiling water off the stove before it can start screaming at me, "now really isn't a good time-"
"Heather's missing," my mother interrupts, and water splashes all over the counter as I completely miss the tea mugs I set out.
"Wha-" My voice cracks, so I clear my throat and try again, "What do you mean missing? What happened?"
My mother takes a deep breath, and in the silence, I realize that the arguing has stopped in the other room, meaning that my mother has everyone's full attention now, even if they might not be able to make out her side of the conversation. "On Monday, Heather said she was going to be busy with work for a couple of days and wouldn't be answering calls. This morning, her boyfriend called, saying she hasn't been answering his calls for a week," she sniffles, "She isn't with you, is she?"
"No," I mumble, already trying to figure out conclusions to what happened. What if she got in trouble again? I skip from worry to anger, passing over fear without collecting two hundred dollars. What if it was that bastard who gave her the black eye and broken arm? "Have you called the police?"
I am unable to tell if my mother is nodding or shaking her head, but the rustling sound on the other end suggests she is doing one. "Her boyfriend did after he called us. The police departments in Ohio are looking for her, but her boss said she was on vacation, not working. They don't know where to look," my mother explains, stifling a sob.
Didn't Heather say she was going on a business trip to California? Why would she lie about working?
More ideas fly through my mind and I ignore the concerned faces of my friends and mate, trying not to be bothered that the guys entered my kitchen without me noticing. There are bigger things to worry about right now. Like, for example, the one conclusion that makes more and more sense each time I come back to it.
Damn it, of course it would be them.
[AN: The end draws near! Literally. There are only two more chapters after this. But not to worry (or don't start celebrating), there will be a sequel. I am not giving out any hints yet, but no, I was not planning to solve the whole plot in the two remaining chapters. That would be impossible, or at the very least, turn out horribly. I hope everyone had an interesting Valentine's Day and I wish you all a great week!]