She wraps her arms around my waist, settling her cheek on my chest. I close my eyes, settling my chin on the top of her head. If only she could be the mother, she used to be. The one who drank less and laughed more. These days, the only time she smiles is when she’s drunk.
“I miss you, honey. It’s like you’re never home anymore,” she pulls away and places a hand on my cheek. No, mom, you aren’t, is what I want to say; instead, I smile.
“I’ll do better. Are you excited about the weekend?”
She skips off and picks up her glass, bringing the clear liquid to her lips. “I can’t wait. Your dad’s been texting me about it non-stop.”
I bet he has. This is what I consider a last-ditch effort to save their train wreck of a marriage. Why either of them bothers, baffles me? There’s staying together because you love each other, and then there is what my parents are doing.
My cell phone ringing saves me, and I answer it as I make my way upstairs. “Yeah?”
“Hey sexy,” Cassandra’s sultry voice drips through the line.
“What is it, Cass?”
She groans over the phone, and I can almost hear her pout. “Aren’t you happy to hear from your Cassy-bear?”
“First, do not call yourself that. It’s ridiculous. Second, I told you I’d see you later.”
Cassandra is a good fuck, great even, but she’s needy, and it gets on my balls.
“But I missed you, baby.” I cringe at the nickname. “You're neglecting Mama.”
I shut my eyes and decide to cut the call to avoid saying something that’ll cost me pussy, not that hers is the only one available.
I climb into the shower, letting the warm water ease my taut muscles. Girls like Cassandra are clingy, and that makes them volatile. If she doesn’t understand her place, I’ll just have to make certain I show her.
* * *
I look down at the platinum blonde hair of a girl whose name I didn’t quite catch. Diner girl, her head bobbing up and down my length, her mouth making wet popping noises. I’ve parked just where Cassandra can see me, but if blondie keeps this up, I’ll explode before Cassie gets here. I should feel bad, I really should, but that would require a heart, feelings, and shit I don’t have time for.
When I spot Cassandra’s pink Mini Cooper, I smirk, egging the girl on.
Cassandra climbs out of her car, flipping her hair over her shoulder. Her face lights up when she spots my Wrangler. I thrust my hips up, leaning my head back, and blondie doesn’t waste time picking up the pace, using her small hands to pump the base. Her moans fill the cab, and when I glance in Cassandra’s direction, she’s halfway to my car. She halts her steps, squints her eyes, and when she realizes what I’m doing, she stares at me wide-eyed, rage and shame flashing across her face. Blondie, unaware of what I’m doing, finishes up like a good girl and sits upright, giggling while buttoning her shirt and pulling down her skirt.
A slamming at the driver's window has her head snapping up.
“Ryder, you fucking dick!” Cassandra yells.
“Is that your girlfriend?” The girl asks in a panic.
“Of course not, not that it is any of your business,” I say, unlocking the door so she can climb out. “Run along now.”
Cassandra is rounding the hood towards blondie in seconds. “You bitch! You fucking bitch!” she yells, lurching for the other girl.
“Hey, I did not know he was seeing anyone,” blondie says, trying to shrug Cassandra off. I decide to save the poor girl, climb out of my car, and grab Cassandra around the waist, tugging her back before she can do any real damage. I’m an asshole, but I’m not heartless.
“Calm the fuck down, Cass!” I shout above her mewl, setting her down. She spins toward me, her green eyes blazing.
“You asshole!” I grab her wrist seconds before her hand connects with my face.
“I’m tired of you acting like we’re dating. Screaming like a banshee isn’t a good look on you.”
“You asked me to meet you here. I thought we had something more than the occasional hook-up, Ryder,” she sniffles.
“Well, you thought wrong. I don’t domore. I will never domore. Now, run home before you embarrass yourself.”
“Ryder, you can’t mean that? That isn’t very nice.” Tears stream down her face, and I almost regret it. Trouble is, you give a bitch an inch; she’ll take the whole fucking nine yards.