Ryker

“We don’t need a condom,” I blurt out, my fingers going to work on the top button of his pants.

He’s in my hands in moments, his pants easily dispensed with by pushing them down his thighs. I sit up in my chair, lean forward, and lick the tip of his cock.

“Oh, Christ, Gray,” he hisses through his teeth. “Please don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” I whisper as I look up at him. “I’ll do whatever you want me to. But I meant…we could have sex without a condom.”

“You trust me?” he rasps out.

“Yes. You trust me?”

“Yes.”

“Then do you want a blow job or do you want me to ride you?” I ask him silkily, giving a bit of a tug on his cock.

Before I even know what’s happening, he has me pulled out of my chair, his own ass sitting on it, and he has me lifted and straddling him. The tip of his erection bumps up against me and a surge of feminine power ripples all around.

We both look down.

I’m hovering, just barely out of reach of him. He fists his shaft and my hands go to his shoulders for leverage. And ever so slowly, never taking my eyes off our joining for one erotic second, I sink down onto him. His thickness fills me so fully that I actually purr.

Like a damn cat.

When I glance up, Ryker’s eyes pin me in place, filled with need. “Kiss me.”

And I do.

And I don’t stop the entire time that I ride him. I thank the yoga gods for making my legs strong and my stamina steady. I fuck him slowly while we kiss, his hands on my hips to help guide. I grind against him, eat up his groans with my mouth, and as he starts to come inside of me, I rest my forehead against his as he whispers my name in gratitude.

—
And my day ends on a shitty note.

If I thought I couldn’t concentrate before Ryker’s little visit, my brain was absolute mush after he left. Even though I cleaned myself in my private bathroom, I kept imagining the rest of the afternoon that his semen was still sliding out of me and I’d have a huge wet spot on my skirt. Or when my secretary came in my office about half an hour after Ryker left, I was terrified she could smell the sex in the air.

And when my father came in to talk to me about budget figures, I was sure he could identify the red flush to my neck as having come from a spectacular orgasm.

But then…it was four o’clock and Claude Amedee showed up for our meeting. I had caught him just outside the plane after we landed, where I calmly told him I knew about the fight and I wanted to speak to him about it. He was a douche, of course, and said, “Let’s talk now.”

I had to show him that I was the boss, so I insisted my schedule was too busy and could only meet him at four. He left pissed and I knew he’d be in a mood when he showed up today.

He sits across from me now, arms crossed defensively and slouched down in his chair. He’s trying for a pleasant smile but he doesn’t realize he’s only pulling off a spectacular glare. I try to ease the situation immediately because my goal here today is to try to turn this around. I know he thinks I’m going to chew his ass out for the things he said, but he’s got another thing coming.

“I’m not mad about the things you said about me,” I say, and watch as disbelief swarms his face. “I am a little disappointed, but not mad. I get it and I know you’re not happy with the change in management.”

A muscle starts ticking in his lower jaw. I decide to roll the dice and really take my gamble. “You know you have the right to press charges against Ryker Evans if you want. You can even request a formal inquiry with my office and I’ll launch a full investigation. That’s why I called you in. I wanted to let you know your rights and assure you that I won’t tolerate that stuff on my team. Ryker was completely in the wrong on this.”

God, that fucking hurt to say that. Tasted like bitter ash in my mouth.

But I need to calm this situation down, and the best way I know how to do that is show Claude that I’m the type of boss he can trust and put faith in. I’m a good judge of character, and if I’m right, he’s not going to want to launch an inquiry because his comments will be made public, and he knows he’s a douche for saying that shit.

“I’m good,” he says tersely, and starts to stand from the chair.

“Claude,” I say in a level voice. “I would really like you to give me a chance. It’s not good for morale and we have a really good shot at the Cup this year.”

He straightens his body and stares at me a moment. I think he might even give me a smile, a handshake maybe. Instead, he just turns on his heel and walks out of my office.

And it’s at this point that I realize that Claude Amedee has a level of loathing for me that I don’t think can be overcome. This bothers me, because I’m not quite sure how to handle it, and another first for me…I’ve always assuredly handled everything that has come my way.

It’s definitely a first.

Claude Amedee has put a ding in my confidence.

Chapter 13

Ryker

I’m usually the guy who likes a good party, even better when it’s a Christmas party. I mean, what’s not to love about Christmas? I wasn’t with the Cold Fury last year, but I was told that Brian Brannon puts on a hell of a party on Christmas Eve. Our holiday break isn’t very long, but it works. We have the twenty-third through the twenty-sixth off and our next game is at home on the twenty-seventh.

But tonight, as I stand here in Brannon’s twelve-thousand-square-foot home situated on ten farm acres with both an indoor and an outdoor pool, it’s hard for me to get in the spirit. The lower level of the house has a massive, open entertainment area that has a huge indoor koi pond. A platform rests in the middle upon which stands a twenty-foot Christmas tree that Ruby and Violet would have gone apeshit over. That’s reason number one—and the main reason—that I’m not in the spirit. When Hensley and I worked out our custody agreement, we agreed to alternate holidays. She got the first Christmas and I packed the girls off to Boston three days ago. Now my house is empty and lonely, and while on any given day I grumble about how loud and exuberant my daughters are, now that they’re gone, I feel lost.