Drilled by K.M. Neuhold
Chapter 13
RIDGE
Is sex that good even legal? Like, what the fuck? I gulp in air, slumped over and hanging half off my bed, my ass aching in the absolute best way, and my balls thoroughly drained.
“Oh, shit, Logs,” I gasp, realizing for the first time that the poor thing ran to hide under the very bed that we just desecrated. That shit must’ve been terrifying to witness from underneath.
“What?” Apollo asks, sounding just as breathless as I am. His back is against the bed frame, his legs spread out in front of him, his softened cock wet with his cum and stuck against his thigh while the used condom sits on the floor next to him.
“The cat.” I slide down onto my shaky knees and peek under the bed. Sure enough, the poor thing is huddled in the corner, her eyes wide and her ears back. “It’s okay, sweetie,” I coo, trying to coax her back out.
“You can’t name the cat Logs,” Apollo scoffs.
“I can’t keep the cat, and I can’t name her Logs. Were you always this damn bossy?” I ask, sliding all the way down onto my belly—and trying not to think too much about the dirty floor against my naked body—and reaching my arm under slowly so I can try to pull her out.
“Logs sounds like you’re calling her turds,” he says, ignoring my jab about all of his unnecessary opinions.
“What would you call her then?” I challenge, managing to convince her to come out and carefully setting her on top of my bed, where she promptly curls up and starts purring.
“How the fuck should I know?”
“Oh, excellent name.” I roll my eyes at him and then go over to the bags I dropped when I stepped into the cabin earlier and pull out one of the cans of cat food. As soon as Logs sees it, she stands up and starts kneading her claws into my sheets, purring even more loudly. “Here, how the fuck should I know, I have tuna for you.”
“You are such a pain in the ass,” Apollo grumbles, standing up and carrying the used condom over to the bag we’ve been using for trash.
“Hm, pretty sure that was you,” I joke, rubbing my ass with an exaggerated wince.
He huffs out a laugh, his expression turning uncharacteristically sheepish. “Was it…?” He clears his throat.
“Mind-blowing? Next level? Literally the best sex of my life?” I supply a few possible answers. “All of the above.”
His lips twitch in a smile before falling back into a frown. “Fuck,” he mutters.
I watch as several different expressions flit over his face, from guilt to longing and a dozen things in between. Even with nothing to go on but his one uttered curse, I feel like I can read every thought he wrestles within that fraction of a second.
“No one has to know.” I shrug to let him know that it’s not a big deal, even though my heart is hammering. “Anna doesn’t ever have to know.”
The muscle in his jaw ticks, and he grunts. Is that an agreement? It felt like an agreement. But an agreement for what? More sex? Not to flip his shit about how good this sex was?
“I need to shower before we get started for the day,” he says and then waits. Was that an invite to shower together? I’ve been purposefully keeping a weird shower schedule for the last two weeks just to stay out of his way and avoid any wet, naked temptation.
“Let me grab my stuff,” I say slowly, giving him a chance to give me a weird look or quickly walk away in order to signal that I got his meaning all wrong. But he just nods and turns to start rifling through his own clothes.
I leave Logs on the bed, happily going ham on the can of wet food, and the two of us walk bare-assed to the showers.
Inside the building, I do a quick scan for spiders and then pick one of the shower nozzles and crank it on, standing out of the way until the water runs clear.
“Motherfucker,” I mutter as I step under the icy spray. I must’ve been fucking horny to get hard with this arctic blast hitting me the first day.
Apollo grunts as he steps under the running water right next to the spot I chose. He grits his teeth, which is about the equivalent of an emotional outburst for him. I can’t help but chuckle as I pour some soap into my hands.
“What?” Apollo asks.
“I dunno. You’re just funny.” I lather the soap up between my hands and hurriedly run them all over my body.
When I glance back over at him—his body hair dark from the water slicking it down, his muscles lickably wet—he has one eyebrow raised. “I’m funny?”
“Well, yeah. Not in like a ha-ha way, but your general vibe tickles me,” I explain. I know most people have found all of his scowls and shit intimidating, but he’s always been endearing and a bit funny to me with his random bouts of crabbiness.
“Tickles you,” he mutters, and I laugh again. What can I say? That epic orgasm put me in a killer mood. Go figure.
Given the upward twitch of Apollo’s lips, I’d say he’s feeling similar.
There’s plenty of space in the large, communal shower stall, but he seems to gravitate toward me, staying under his own spray but getting close enough that our elbows bump as we wash ourselves. The two of us trade glances, and my heart dances a familiar rhythm against my ribcage. I was in love with Apollo all those years ago, and I’m in love with him now.
Fuck, that’s a bad idea, but here we are anyway. I wonder what he would say if I were to tell him. The idea is almost laughable. Maybe one day…
Or maybe never.
Yeah, never sounds good, especially if we can keep having sex and rebuilding our friendship in the meantime.
Apollo playfully splashes water at me, keeping a stoic look the entire time. I grin and give it back, flinging some of the soapy suds from my hair along with it. Who says we can’t have the things we used to have and some sex on the side? At least for a few more weeks.
That’s not too much to ask, is it? It’s certainly a hell of a lot better than missing him anymore.
APOLLO
There’s a reddish-purple bruise on the side of Ridge’s throat in the shape of my mouth. He absently brushes his fingers against it while we both dry off and get dressed, flicking brief glances in my direction each time he does it. It shouldn’t be as hot as it is, but I can’t stop thinking about a few weeks ago when he was covered in love bites from someone else. Now it’s my mark on him instead.
“Who was the guy a few weeks ago?” I ask before I can ponder how jealous and possessive the question might sound, especially considering the hint of a growl in my tone.
Ridge cocks his head to the side, giving me a curious look as if he doesn’t have the foggiest clue what I’m talking about.
“What guy?” He buttons his jeans and runs his hands through his damp hair, slicking it back off of his face. “You mean Tallahassee? The night before we left? You know him. He’s one of the mechanics at Big Bull.”
“No.” I give a sharp shake of my head, on the verge of saying never mind, but what if Ridge has some kind of boyfriend or friend with benefits or…fuck, I don’t know. Maybe I’m looking for reassurances that he actually wants whatever this is, or maybe I’m searching for another excuse to add to the long list of reasons it’s a terrible idea to let anything happen again. “You had hickeys all over your chest…”
“Oh.” He huffs out a laugh. “Fuck, I don’t even remember his name. Kyle, maybe? He was just some M4M hookup.”
“Mm,” I hum in response, getting the rest of my clothes on and draping my damp towel over the half-wall to dry. “We should get to work.”
“Yeah, let’s do it,” he agrees.
We’re nearly finished with Cabin Three, which puts us right on track with our timeline. We have just about two weeks left, and as long as we keep busting our asses, we’ll be finished on time, maybe even ahead of schedule, considering there isn’t shit to do on the cabin we’ve been sleeping in.
While we work on the roof, the hot sun beating down on us, I try to decide if that’s an argument to take him up on his offer he made by the lake or not. It’s only two more weeks, and we are out in the middle of the woods, all alone. It’s like Vegas, right? No one has to know what happens out here. It doesn’t have to have any bearing on the state of our very shaky renewed friendship once we get home. On the other hand, maybe it would be best to just focus on work and get the hell out of here as soon as possible.
“Fuck, dude, you don’t have to think about it that hard,” Ridge says, reading my mind as usual.
I grunt in response. Maybe he’s right. We can just see what happens, and when we go home, we start fresh from there…as friends. Just friends. Otherwise, I risk losing him altogether again, not to mention what it would do to Anna.
I look over at him again, and my body buzzes. Not just because his shirt has been abandoned and he’s on his hands and knees, skin glistening with sweat. No, it’s the lazy grin he gives me, the way he knew exactly what I was thinking about. It’s the simple fact that he’s Ridge, and it doesn’t matter how many excuses, valid or otherwise, that I come up with, I’m never going to be able to resist him. So we might as well enjoy the next couple of weeks before real life catches up with us again.
The rest of the day passes uneventfully. We wrap up Cabin Three and sit down to dinner to discuss what we have left to do in the next fourteen days.
Ridge took a few breaks throughout the day to check on his new cat, who really seems to like my bed for some reason, because of course she fucking does. As far as I’m concerned, Ridge can sleep on the floor, and I’ll take his bed if the cat is going to be an issue. Or, you know, we could share again.
I glance over at him, happily spooning canned soup into his mouth and chattering away about something that I missed while chasing my own wandering train of thought. Sharing a ridiculously tiny bed like that with anyone else would be straight-up torture, but there’s definitely a certain appeal to the idea when it comes to Ridge. Not that my back would thank me, but who cares.
His eyes meet mine, and we stare at each other in silence for a few seconds, the fire crackling between us, unspoken things filling the space. The sound of a branch snapping in the woods a few feet away pulls his attention from me.
“Think it was the ghost of that kid or his vengeful mother?” I tease.
“Joke all you want. Crazier things have happened. He probably sees that we’re almost finished fixing this place up and has to stop us before any more kids come here and meet the same fate he did.” He stares into the darkness of the trees, and I try not to chuckle.
“Mm,” I hum seriously. “Plus, you know, now that we’ve fucked, we broke horror movies rules. You know what that means.” I draw a finger dramatically across my throat, keeping my expression grim.
“You’re not going to find this so funny when a ghost kid is standing over you with a machete.”
“Why a machete?” I scrape the last remnants of soup out of my own can and then toss it into our bag of recyclables to take back to town with us.
“Fuck, I don’t know. Because a machete is intimidating, I guess.” He tosses his own can and then scoots closer to me, just like he did the other night, his shoulder bumping against mine. “What would your murder weapon of choice be?”
“Hmm.” I consider the options for a second, watching the flames of the fire dance. “My bare hands, I guess. If you want revenge for something, you really shouldn’t be afraid to get all up in there.”
“That’s brutal, man.” He shakes his head and tsks. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”
“Too late,” I joke in a bland tone, and Ridge barks out a laugh.
“Fair enough. Remind me not to do it again.”
“Deal,” I agree.
Another loud crack comes from the woods. Deer maybe? Extra fat raccoons? Definitely not ghost children or their vengeful mothers. Ridge doesn’t seem to agree. He shifts closer to me, a look of concern crossing his face.
“Will you feel better if I go check it out?” I offer, keeping my expression neutral as a hilariously wicked idea occurs to me.
“No, that’s how horror movies start.” He reaches for my arm as I stand up.
“Relax. I’ll be right back,” I say ominously, tossing an evil smirk in for good measure before striding off toward the woods.
I don’t encounter whatever made the sounds, and as expected, I’m not macheted to death by any ghosts. I walk a few steps off the path and find a large tree to duck behind, then I wait.
It only takes Ridge about a minute and a half to start calling after me from his spot by the fire.
“Pol? Did you find any animals or anything?” he shouts calmly at first. “Pol?”
I rustle around and snap a few more twigs that are within reach. I wish I could see his face right now. After another minute, I hear his footsteps drawing nearer.
“Is everything okay?” he calls. “Seriously, Apollo.” His tone is a mixture of worry and exasperation, like he’s pretty sure I’m fucking with him, but a small part of him still thinks I might’ve been murdered by a ghost.
The trees rustle, and the sound of his footsteps, as well as his voice, gets even louder. I’m able to make out his shape in the murky light from the moon just barely coming through the trees. I snap another stick, and he jumps.
“I swear to fuck if you haven’t been murdered, I’m going to do it myself,” he threatens.
I wait a few more seconds, watching him shuffle forward slowly, attempting to look for me in the dark. When he’s only a few steps from my hiding spot, I leap out. Ridge gives an immensely satisfying shriek, flailing his arms wildly. I roar and wrap my arms around him, laughter rumbling through me as he kicks and shoves at me.
“I fucking hate you. That was so mean.”
I continue to laugh as he settles down, still wrapped in my arms, his fists grabbing the front of my shirt now that he’s finished trying to punish me for the joke. He’s close enough that even in the dark, I can make out his features. Our eyes meet again like they did in front of the fire, and a million unspoken things pass between us. His nose bumps against mine and his breath fans over my lips while my heart thunders.
I don’t have a count of the number of times I fantasized about holding him just like this, so close I could feel his heartbeat against mine and smell the sweat on his skin. It was my most forbidden daydream for as long as I can remember. And now, here we are, Ridge’s lips less than an inch from mine, his body relaxed in my arms, anticipation thrumming in the air all around us.
We don’t crash together violently like we did this morning. Our lips meet like a match catching, heat sparking immediately and then simmering gently, our mouths moving slowly against each other. There’s no urgency, no frustration…for the space of a few seconds, there’s just the two of us and a kiss that I think we’ve both been waiting for longer than we want to admit.
A gentle heat creeps along my skin. It’s not the raging inferno that crackled around the two of us earlier, but its potential for destruction is no less. He unclenches his fists from the front of my shirt and wraps his arms around my neck, sagging into me as we deepen the kiss, our tongues lazily dragging against each other.
My cock hardens, but it’s almost the last thing on my mind, and Ridge seems to agree. I can feel the shape of his arousal, but he doesn’t thrust against me, doesn’t tug at my clothes or try to hurry things along, he simply returns my kiss like we both have all the time in the world.
When we break the kiss, we’re both breathing heavily.
“Do you want to…” Ridge leaves the question hanging, leaving me to fill in its intended ending. Do I want to fuck in the woods? Do I want to drag him back to the cabin and enjoy a repeat of this morning? Not no, but…
“Why don’t we go get some sleep?” I suggest.
He nods, and I unwrap my arms from around him, then reach for his hand.
“I still can’t believe you did that. I nearly had a heart attack. I thought you got dragged off by a bear or something,” he mutters as we navigate back out of the woods, the light from the fire drawing us in the right direction.
I chuckle unapologetically.
We pause briefly, so I can put out the fire, and then make our way up to the cabin. Of course the cat is curled up on my bed, my sheets messy with flecks of cat food and entirely too much cat hair. I quirk an eyebrow at Ridge and get a sheepish glance in return.
Without a word, I strip down to my briefs and help myself to his bed, holding the blanket up so he can climb in with me. It takes a minute for us to find a relatively comfortable way to entangle ourselves so neither of us will fall out of bed in the middle of the night, but we manage it eventually.
We’re completely flush against each other, our legs entwined, bare chest to bare chest, sharing one pillow. He brushes one more soft kiss against my lips, and my heart does a somersault, my throat tightening as I waffle internally between utter joy that after all these years, I know what it feels like to share a casual kiss with Ridge and unbridled anger at the universe that I can’t actually keep him.
Not like this anyway.
