Chapter Four

Ryder

It's been four years already. Four fucking years, and Dallas Romero is still in my every thought. Now she's back, even hotter, and I can't seem to keep still.

I know I messed up—it's my MO. I'm a fucking cunt.

I had gotten out of the car. People bustled in and out of the bar as I walked in, the thump of bass vibrating through the sticky floorboards under my boots. She tells me she needs some space and comes to a bar? Not on my watch.

I spotted her the moment I walked in. I prayed internally as I marched forward, just in time before she got up from her seat and headed to a table with two men.

I stood in front of her, and I could tell that angered her. The men? I didn't give a flying fuck about them. I could deal with them later if they tried anything.

“Of course you had to follow me,” she said in defeat.

“I didn't.” Yes, I did.

“I knew you were going to be here.”

She smirked, an adorable one, seeing as she did it wrong. She tucked her hands into her pockets, and that was when I noticed what she had on.

A denim bum short with a lace crop top that barely reached her belly button. It barely did a thing; it only pronounced her large chest. Underneath her shorts was black panty hose, outlining her petite legs.

She had her chestnut hair in an updo, a little of it framing her face, and that fucking red lipstick. She didn't just look fucking hot. She was a walking sex alarm.

I wasn't going to let her stay in a bar with hungry men around. Quickly, I pulled off my jacket and placed it over her shoulders to cover her.

“Why the fuck would you wear this here?!”

“FYI, I do not give a fuck.” She strode to the side and walked to the men, placing a hand on the table and her ass high up, enough for them to scan her behind.

“Hi,” her voice drawled.

Alarmed, I moved faster than a flash, pulling her away and frowning at the shit holes.

“Wear this, and then we leave.”

“You know what? For someone who could have anyone else at the tip of his fingers, you seem to bug me a lot, Ry-der,” her voice sharp.

“I don't want anyone. I want you,” I blurted before I could even stop myself.

It wasn't a lie. It wasn't some game I was playing. I did want her. I've always wanted her.

She paused, this time staring at me. I couldn't tell what she was thinking. God, I wished I knew what was going on in that little brain of hers.

“You just ruin everything,” she concluded and stormed out of the bar. I shot a growl at the men, their cheap beer breath wafting toward me. They understood that line wasn't to be crossed. Hurriedly, I picked up my jacket, and sprinted out behind her.

“Dally!” I called after her, but she was fast on those black heels, oh boy.

I caught up with her and pulled her to the side, into a dark space before the entrance of the bar. Due to the lighting, no one would be able to see us from outside.

But this was different—she was so close this time. Her flowery perfume’s scent filled my nose as I watched her luscious breasts move with every breath she took. I knew she was affected too. Somehow, I fucking pray that she isn't over me like she claimed she was.

The jacket fell to the floor, my fingers sliding across her soft cheeks.

“I don't want you here. I don't want to be around you! I just… fuck! I hate you so much!”

She tugged at my loose shirt and then proceeded to hit me.

I could take that. She could shout and hit me all day, provided she spoke to me or even looked at me.

I cupped her cheeks, and I could feel her knees graze my pants, just so close to my dick—and that did it. With her eyes closed, she placed her head on my racing chest, whispering something I couldn't quite hear. I leaned in.

“Just go back to her. You're not mine. You never will be.”

I raised her head with both hands.

“I am yours. Fuck, I'm sorry for hurting you.”

I know this looks bad, and I can't do anything about it right now. But this is Dally. My Dally.

She's mine and no one else's.

It looked like she was feeling better now, with her cleaning her face and placing both hands on my neck. My heart glimmered with joy, and my cheeks warmed.

She trailed slow fingers around my neckline, held and pulled me closer to her, so close that our lips almost touched. I swallowed, hands on the wall above her head.

Thank goodness she was feeling better now. This way, we could talk about us with clear heads.

“Fuck me. Just one more time. Enough to get you out of my system,” she said out of the blue.

“What?” I've always known Dallas to be straightforward and impulsive. But this? This was different.

“I said, I need you to fuck me so I can get you out of my system. Just one time. No one knows, and then we act normal again. Or are you scared about Melisssaaa knowing?” I pulled away in shock.

“You're not in your right mind. Are you drunk?”

She giggled. She wasn't. Dallas could chug down five bottles of beer and still not be drunk. I could smell the whiskey on her breath, but whiskey wasn't enough to get her drunk.

“Maybe I should take you home.” I started pulling away.

“No,” she hurriedly said, pulling me back and immediately dropping to her knees.

“Dallas, I don't think you're making the right decisions. You just got back. You need sleep. In the morning, we can talk.”

Her hands smoothed down my pants and over my already hard dick. Fingers gliding through, holding my zipper and slowly unzipping my pants. I gasped the moment her hands wrapped around me.

“Dal—”

“Shhh. I missed you so much. Let me show you how much I have. Just how much I missed the taste of your cock.”

She stuck out her tongue and, like a filthy whore, licked me from top to bottom and i held onto the wall for dear life.