Page 94 of Stroked Long
I open the passenger door to my truck to help Ruby down. I’m greeted with a bright smile and a view of her polka-dot dress riding high on her thigh. What I wouldn’t give to take her back to her apartment or my place instead of going on with real life. I have to leave for training camp soon and then the games, and the thought of leaving Ruby behind puts a huge ball of dread in the pit of my stomach.
I never thought I would rely on the smile of another person, but with Ruby, it’s like a daily medication I need to take. I hadn’t thought I could fit another element into my task-oriented, structured days. Ruby has become a necessity, something welcomed but also confusing.
“You don’t have to help me out of the truck, you know.” She grabs her purse and attempts to hop down, but I grab her by the waist and assist her before she can do it by herself.
“I like to,” I answer honestly. Setting her on the ground, I push a lock of her blonde hair behind her ear. “You look really pretty today.”
A pink blush caresses her cheeks. “Thank you.”
“No need to thank me, Rubes. I’m just speaking the truth.”
“Well, in that case, you look really hot today and your dick was huge in the shower earlier.”
Fuck yeah, it was. Ruby knelt in front of me, those pouty lips ready to suck me in, I was harder than the fucking cement on the pool deck.
“That will never get old to hear.” I wink and shut the door. Lacing my fingers with hers, I take her bag and we both walk into the back entrance of the club to avoid any commotion.
“What are you doing tonight?” I ask as we reach the door to the building. She reaches for it but I stop her. “Not yet, I want a couple more moments with you.”
With my hands on her hips, I press her against the wall of the club and pin her down.
The gentle caress of her fingers strokes my cheek, an endearing look in her eyes. “You’re very sweet, you know that, Bodi?”
“Only with you.”
“No.” She shakes her head. “You’re sweet with Eva and Lauren, and with all the kids you help here at the club. I hate to admit it, but you’re kind of a softy.”
It’s funny that she sees me that way. I would never consider myself a softy. My bedside manner is almost non-existent. I’m more of a robot than anything. I’m “sweet” with the kids because they’re kids. I’m not going to be some prick sitting in a lawn chair on the side of the pool blowing a whistle at the little bastards. My mom would not stand for such behavior from me. And Eva and Lauren, well, they are the only family I have left. I can be the real, neurotic Bodi around them, and they won’t judge me.
Ruby. She’s a different story. She makes me feel more alive, like there’s a possibility of getting out of this little box I’ve been living in. The self-imposed and very necessary prison keeping me functional, keeping me safe. Others too.
She’s also a risk.
A huge risk, and I’ve been trying to tamp down that thought and not allow it to grow. Warning bells have been signaling, reminding me that shewould wantto change my routine, that shewould push meto move forward in life. I’m not sure I would be able to do that.
Despite how happy I am, I’m still governed by neurotic thoughts and behaviors. I still need to call Eva at night. I still have to conduct some of my everyday happenings in threes. I still need to keep everything neat and orderly in my condo. And I still need to check my locks constantly, three times each.
That will never change.
It’s who I am.
Would Ruby accept that?Could Ruby accept that?
“We need to work on the foundation. Make sure everything is in place for painting at the training camp.”
Despite the thoughts running through my mind, I kiss her lips softly and say, “We can do that . . . naked.”
“Bodi Banks, you little horndog. We can discuss business with our clothes on.” I’m actually kind of surprised that came out of my mouth. It’s not something I would normally say but then again, I haven’t been my normal, closed-off self since I met Ruby.
“Certainly we can,” I say, kissing her on her neck, “but that doesn’t mean we have to.”
She sighs from my touch. “Do you really think I would be able to get any work done with your willy staring its one eye up at me?”
“Don’t call my cock a willy.”
“Why not? Seems legit to me. I’m actually quite fond of it.” And thank God for that, because I’m extremely fond of every part of her that connects with my cock. Her hand, her lips . . . fuck, her pussy.
Kissing my way back up to her lips, I reply, “If you ever want to see thiswillyagain, you won’t call it that.”
