Purple Haze (Blue Dream Book 2) (12 page)

Ryder

I give the door a heavy slam behind me. Fuck this day. I'm done. I'm fucking done. It's the bullshit of days like today that once drove me to call chicks like Kara over, stop at Jordy's to grab a sack, and come home to getting fucked up and my dick sucked. I've spent so much time loathing those moments it's baffling to think there was ever anything enjoyable in them. Simplicity. An escape from the constant disappointment and disapproval of the mundane life we're forced to engage in.

“You look cheerful,” Merrick says from the hallway where he's adjusting his backpack.

“You look like you're going to camp.”

He gives me a cocky smirk. “Crashing the girls' cabin.”

His joke receives another scowl. His ability to keep that fucking smile every day is as equally impressive as it is irritating. It's like nothing bothers him. Like he's never had a real fucking problem in his entire life. I know he has. I just don't know how he manages to constantly keep his spirits high throughout all of it. Jovi probably helps the same way Pres does. I need her here tonight. One toke of the pussy would tame the disorderly tempter trembling inside. Unfortunately, she's working late. Again. Some weeks I'm learning are like this. This one hasn't been as bad as others. We've only missed seeing each other two nights so far. I shouldn't hate having a successful girlfriend, but moments like this sway my thoughts otherwise.

My phone vibrates in my pocket like a beacon of hope she can hear the fucked up day I'm having across town.

Kara:  Don't wanna be alone tonight.

I don't either.

“What's got you trying to break the door of our apartment?”

After closing the text message, I don't intend on replying to, the text message I don't
need
right now, I toe off my shoes by the kitchen island and toss my keys on it. “Some fucking dick customer had the nerve to accuse me of trying to skim extra money out of his piece of shit car. One mechanic called in sick while the other went to lunch and decided he didn't feel like fucking coming back, leaving us shorthanded this afternoon with a truck to unload on top of it all. Oh! Let's not forget to fucking note some prick dinged my fucking car when I went to get lunch. And I'm so broke until I get paid I had to borrow five bucks from Big Mike to eat today. My girlfriend has to work late
again
and the one outlet I have to take out my frustrations is closed for fucking maintenance.”

In rehab running ripped out urges. The treadmill, the weights, the medicine ball for abs all do the same now. I push my body until my mind is too exhausted to remember more than it's basic functions of breathing, eating, and sleeping. Most of the time it's something I do when Pres and I aren't together. I guess it became a hobby on accident. That and watching the history channel.

His beaming expression doesn't change, which forces me to snap, “Why the fuck are you still smiling?”

Merrick shrugs and pulls out his car keys. “You never know. Your day could still turn around.”

“My day is over. I'm gonna fucking shower. Eat....do we have anything in the fridge?”

“There's leftover casserole Jovi made.” The gagging expression is proceeded with him shaking his head. “We're out of everything else.”

A heavy sigh leaves me as my palms hit the counter. “I'll chip in extra for groceries when I get paid. Sorry man I-”

“Don't fucking worry about it,” he brushes off. “I'm headed to Jovi's for the night.”

“Tell her I said hi.”

“I will.” Merrick gives me a cocky smirk once again and makes his way to the front door. “Might even tell her
you
loved her casserole.”

An impulse to chuckle roams throughout me. “It can't possibly be that bad.”

Almost out of the apartment he states, “A man hungry enough will eat anything, including cardboard with peppers, onions, cherry tomatoes, mushrooms, and feta cheese.”

His description scrunches my face. “No meat?”

“Apparently we're on some sort of vegetarian diet I didn't sign off on.” He makes a jack off motion. “I'm gonna grab a cheeseburger on my way over to bring her back to the dark side. I'll catch you later.”

The door shuts and another sigh leaves me. I drag my overworked body out of the kitchen for my bedroom. Hitting the lights illuminates much more than just the four walls I'm beginning to loathe less.

My eyes drink in Pres' curvaceous body barely covered in my white sheet, hair pulled to one side and a mischievous expression I can't wait to fuck off of her face. The nudging of my cock against my jeans rushes the words out of my mouth. “You're not working late.”

She shakes her head slowly and bites her bottom lip.

“You're in my bed.”

Pres nods.

Restraining my actions, I continue, “You're naked.”

With a quick toss of the sheet, she coos, “I am.”

Anxious to get the overdue hit moves my body forward. “You wet?”

To my surprise she parts her legs and tempts me. “Why don't you see for yourself?”

Unable to wait any longer to accept the invitation, I shed my clothes, and coat her body with mine. Foreplay is non-existent. It usually is the first time we get a taste of each other. I slide in from behind, her toned ass bumping against me as my cock invades a territory it's more than willing to continuously declare as its own. The first breath from her is sharp. Her head is tossed backwards and my hands wind themselves in her hair. I latch my tongue onto her neck. Gratitude is painted with long licks and soft sucks. She sighs. She withers. She begs for more. The way her pussy pulsates around my dick, coming quickly, informs me she's addicted to me the same way I am her. Relentless in my thrusting, I flawlessly pound away capturing two additional orgasms before allowing my body its needed release.

Once we manage to catch our breath, I shut my eyes and enjoy the way my vitals are stabilizing. I trail kisses down her neck, across her shoulder blades, and down the beautiful curve of her back. She trembles at the actions, eventually dropping onto her stomach. Indebted over her surprise visit, her surprise position, and the much needed surprise release, I continue to litter kisses on her flesh.

She softly hums, “Feel better?”

In between her thighs that are glazed in our sweat I mutter, “Fuck yeah.”

Presley giggles and rolls over. Effortlessly, she reaches out for me to come closer. My head automatically rests itself on her stomach while my arm cradles her tightly. Within seconds her fingertips are roaming through my hair. I close my eyes at the soothing action. In an instant, I'm sated on the deeper level drugs could never reach. Inexplicable tranquility seeps to my core and the built up bullshit of the day demolishes.

Breathless I question, “How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“That,” my whispered retort receives another giggle.

“Care to be more specific?”

I stroke her soft skin. “Just...make all the bad shit disappear.”

Silence slips between her fingertips alongside the strands of my hair. When Presley finally speaks she asks, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“No.” Professing my progress from drugs is more like a well-played illusion than a fact, and is the last thing she needs to know. The idea of her having a deeper inkling sobriety isn't smooth, that it isn't an extreme achievement every day so much as one I'm barely crossing the finish line for, tenses my body.

Her fingers continue their timeless task. “You know what worries me, Ryder?”

“Hm?”

“That you don't trust me.”

Baffled by the accusation I grump, “What the hell are you talking about?”

To my surprise her tone stays even. “You don't trust me enough to tell me why your day was terrible. I can't help but wonder what else you don't trust me to know.”

Kara, Law, and sobriety meetings simultaneously flood my mind. It's not that I don't trust her. Of course I trust her. I trust her more than I trust myself. She just can't know how what a facade
this
Ryder she sees is. What a work in progress I still am. She doesn't need to be afraid I'll turn into the beast who broke her. Even if I have no intention of being that person again doesn't mean there isn't a piece of her that could see it behind the curtain of the improved me. My objective to prove I'm the man she deserves is the foundation of staying clean now even if it shouldn't be. If we start drilling holes into it, I don't have hope I can within stand the collapse.

“It's not an issue of trust,” I try to assure.

“Then what is it? Do you think I can't handle bad moods? Bad days? Do you think I can't handle tough subjects?” Presley's mouth continues without waiting for an actual answer. “It's like when your parents started going through a divorce all over again.”

“Don't,” I bark. “Don't bring that shit up.”

“Why not? Because it's easier for you to bury shit than to talk to me?”

My body lurches up. “Yes!”

The unexpected outburst pushes her body back against my pillows.

I scrub away the returning anxiety. “I don't like talking about that shit, Pres, especially with you.”

“Why not?” The hurt tone aches in my chest. “Did I ever do something to you to make you think you can't talk to me?”

“No,” my quiet admission gets another confused reaction. “I just....” Folding my legs to drape my arms over them I drop my head and shut my eyes. “I don't ever wanna give you another reason to try to walk away from me.”

“Ryder....”

“Do you have any idea how often I replay in my mind what I did to you that night? The betrayal on your face when you realized I was fucked up. The anxiety in your eyes. The way your lifeless body lied so still on the floor. Do you have any idea how many times I play that moment of fear in my brain that I had accidentally killed the only fucking person I cared about, the only person I fucking loved? Every. Goddamn. Day.” Breathing seems to become a hard action for my body. The next words are choked under the new distress. “I'm a fucking monster on the inside and I know it. I just....I don't want you to know it too.”

Presley's fingers gingerly run down the tattoo on my back. “If you wanna keep doing this, you're going to have to let me learn to love the monster too.”

Tears sting the edges of my eyes. “I can't...”

“You won't hurt me like that again.” Her soft lips plant a kiss on top of the engraved promise on my skin. “I've forgiven you. Forgive yourself too. Prove to me you're in control. Prove to me things are different this time.” Another kiss lands on the mark. “I already told you I wasn't going anywhere. Believe me.”

The tip of her tongue in combination with her words turns my body around. In haste, I'm devouring her mouth again. Our kiss heats rapidly until she's pulling away to gasp for air. At that moment, I grip her leg and slide myself back inside, wet serenity clearing the clutter I always seem to be fighting in my head.

On a hard push I announce, “My day was awful.” Her hands grip my biceps. Roughly I thrust again as I continue to confess, “I'm damn near broke. Someone accused me of stealing at work. The gym was broken. And the woman of my fucking dreams works too much.”

Presley's moans are soft through my proclamations, but her hips are relentless in their efforts to lift up to every blow delivered. The savage pumping of my dick doesn't seem to terrify her. Instead she grips me tighter and argues, “I love what I do.”

Pressing my forehead against hers I continue to pound into her and fight, “I need you to love me too.”

“God,” she croaks, trembling from an orgasm hitting her abruptly. As soon as it starts to settle she declares, “I do love you. But I need you be okay with me loving other things. Sharing my time. My life.”