Hothouse Flower (Calloway Sisters #2)

by Krista Ritchie

My life is full of unconventionalities, abnormalities and awkward fucking situations. If you’re easily offended by crude language and inappropriate talks, you’ve taken a wrong fucking turn somewhere. You won’t understand me if you can’t handle me, and I’m not going to try to explain myself. I’m raw. I’m hard. I’m the thing you shy away from. So I’m warning you now. Back away. Because once you enter my life, I won’t ever let you leave.

10/10 note, ryke. nice and blunt.

I glared. “I’m nothing like that prick.”

that prick will be one of the most important people in your life in a few years :')

My mom was Sara Hale. My dad was Jonathan Hale. I was no one’s son.

fucking

this literally IS his favorite word. IMCRYING.

DAISY CALLOWAY

DAISYYY.

And now Cleo Marks posted this on her wall: During Daisy Calloway’s sweet sixteen party, she couldn’t shut up about sex. It’s all she cared about. You know she’s a closeted sex addict like her sister. All the Calloway girls are skanks.

GIRL WHAT. YOU WERE, TOO. just say you're jealous and sad that ryke didn't want you ??

A hand reaches out and smacks my computer closed. “Stop wasting your fucking emotions on them.” A tall six-foot-three guy is in my bed. Beside me. In only a pair of drawstring pants. And I’m sitting against the headboard, wearing white cotton shorts and a cropped red and blue top that says: Wild America. On the outside, we probably look like a couple, gently rising from the morning sunlight that peeks through my curtains. On the inside, there’s no touching. No kissing. Nothing beyond friendship status. Reality is a whole lot more complicated.

RYKE????

He doesn’t sit yet. He stays beneath my green comforter and sheet, running his hands through his disheveled dark brown hair. Attractive doesn’t even begin to describe his “I-don’t-give-a-shit-about-it” hair. It never looks neater during the day, but he knows that. “The better fucking question is when did you go to sleep?” He stares at me with narrowed, accusatory eyes.

this is ryke. HELLOOO.

Ryke is mine.

Because she’d hear me scream, and I’d have to explain why I have these intense nightmares. And no one knows but Ryke. Not my sisters: Lily and Rose. Not Rose’s husband. Not Lily’s fiancé (who happens to be Ryke’s brother). Just him. It’s a secret he’s kept for half a year.

“Are you worried about going to Paris alone?” he asks me. “You haven’t slept by yourself in four months.” “I can’t keep you forever, can I? Like a miniature Ryke Meadows carry-on or pocket-sized version?” I try hard not to smile at this. “I’m not a fucking teddy bear.” I gasp. “Really? I thought you were.” He chucks a pillow at my face. I smile so hard. He loves throwing things.

aw they're already cute!!

“Well, you have my number,” he says. “Don’t be afraid to fucking call me, okay?”

"you came." "you called." it's SO gonna happen.

His eyes narrow with each ticking second. “Don’t look at me like that, Daisy.” “I’m not looking at you like anything.” “I can tell when someone’s attracted to me,” he says without missing a beat.

STOP.

“Cute,” he says.

THAT'S SO LOREN HALE OF HIM. i mean, they ARE brothers......

And just when I think all is clear, as she travels back towards the door, the shower turns on. He knows she hasn’t left yet.

bro is playing with fire omg.

And I like all of Ryke Meadows.

The shower curtain whips to the side, and Ryke steps out with the towel tied low around his waist, beads of water still dripping down his toned chest and abs. I’m about to leave, to give him privacy, but he says, “Come here.”

THEY'RE SO GIVING ALREADY.

And I watch as he opens his toothpaste and squirts a line on his toothbrush and then a line on mine. He holds out my green Oral B. I take it gratefully, and we both brush our teeth at the same time, pretending not to look at each other through the mirror, even when we do. It’s like we’re a couple.

AWWW, WHATTT. brushing together??!!? this is so cuteness.

I’m so fucking sick of taking cold showers, which is why I said fuck that yesterday. I need to start going to my apartment where I have the freedom to jerk off. Every morning is about the same. Wake up in Daisy’s bed. Try to suppress a horrible fucking boner.

HELLOOOOO. it's not one-sided, daisyyy. I CAN SMELL THE JEALOUSY SCENES ALREADY.

Try my absolute fucking best to stroke my cock without thinking of her long legs and that gorgeous fucking smile.

RYKE. MEADOWS.

You’re what I would call a serial dater, as is Daisy, and since she graduated and moved into your apartment complex, no one has seen either of you with someone else.”

I’m so fucking thankful she’s single right now. I hate her ex-boyfriends, and I hate how men look at her and all they see is a girl they believe they can mount. They can’t. She’s out of their fucking league, and yet, she entertains them, too nice not to. It pisses me off.

oh, this book will have a whole ton of you 'pissed off.' (hopefully)

It’s like Daisy Calloway is powered by the sun.

“You’re a wicked girl, Calloway,”

“I was just going to suggest taking off my boots. What were you thinking?” My tongue in your mouth. My cock so far inside of you.

RYKE. OMG.

“Sex is stupid,” I tell him. “It is when you’re with guys who can’t satisfy you.” I flush at his words. “Rose just told me to try it with more guys and see what happens.” Ryke looks ready to spring off the bike and go track down my sister. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

And then the garage door opens. “Hey,” Lo calls, “dinner is…” His voice dies when he catches us on the motorcycle together. Uh-oh.

IMSCREAMINGGG.

I would actually love to be violated on that motorcycle by Ryke Meadows. I wonder how rough he would take me.

well, it'll happen!

“You know what I fucking learned today?” he says, his features really dark. “Rose just told Connor, my brother, and me that you have irregular periods because of your weight.”

BRO ROSE.

“I could be in love with you.” I throw out this line, wondering if he’ll reel me in, but he just gives me a hard stare. “Are you?” he taunts back, not stepping down from this. He puts me on the defensive. I want to say yes. But am I in love with Ryke? How do I know? “I’m not sure.”

oh?? we're being honest about these feelings ??!

nod. “Yeah, yeah.” “Don’t yeah me twice,” he retorts. “Why, because it’s redundant?” He leans close, his arms on either side of the counter, on either side of me. “Because it sounds fake, sweetheart.” “So if I moan twice⁠—” He covers my mouth with his large hand, enveloping my cheeks and jaw. “Don’t go there, not tonight.”

BROOO. THE SQUEEZING HER CHEEKS.

He’s never really expressed any attraction towards me. We flirt sometimes, but he’s never gotten hard or aroused by me. At least not that I’ve seen.

yeah..... you just haven't seen it!

“Sleeping,” I say with a smile. “When did I become your fucking pillow?” he asks lightly. “Shhh,” I whisper, “it’s safe here.” Just when I anticipate Ryke drawing away from me, he surprises me and kisses the top of my head.

AWWW.

The press can keep saying I’m banging your fucking sister, but we all know it’s a load of⁠—” “Shit,” I finish. “Bullshit.” I mock gasp. “Fucking bullshit.” He stares at me with harshness that would intimidate most people. But I don’t back down. My eyes stay locked on his piercing ones, and then his lips slowly rise. “When did your mouth get so fucking dirty, Calloway?” he asks.

MMMM.

“There’s nothing better than cupcakes, except maybe chocolate cake, but that’s still in the cupcake family.” “Sex,” he says. “Sex is better than chocolate.” He always tells me this. “Not for me,” I use his exact words.

soon, girl. SOON. it WILL be.

“I’m scared to sleep,” she admits in a whisper. “I don’t want to have a nightmare.” Tears slide out of the creases of her eyes, too tired to hold them back. “But I’ll be scared all night if I stay awake. It sucks.” I wish I could take away her problems. I’m not used to being unable to fix things, and it hurts, having to watch her go through this while I pretend that my presence is a fucking solution.

I lean over her so she’s staring right at me. “Daisy,” I say her name forcefully, wiping her tears with my thumb. “No one is getting in this fucking room.”

She shuts her eyes, and I near her under the covers so she feels my body heat. I’ve been doing this long enough to know what calms her down and what triggers her fear. We’re a couple inches apart, and I already see a layer of sweat building on her forehead. “Shhh,” I whisper. “You’re safe.” I rub her arm, and she scoots closer to me.

aww omg.

my cock pressing on her ass, but she probably doesn’t hone in on this last fact as much as me. Do you want to know the kind of restraint it takes to be in this fucking position with this fucking girl almost every fucking night without doing one fucking thing? More control than I even realized I had.

YOU TOLD HER YOU WOULD'E DONE SOMETHING BY NOW IF YOU WANTED HER WHEN YOU KNOW DAMN WELLLLL.

She grips her pillow, her face turned into it, and she moans. She’s still asleep. This is a fucking side effect of her meds, and it’s happened maybe five times in the past four months. I wasn’t ever planning on telling her that she gets aroused in the middle of the night.

BROOO.

She shudders, and then she moans again, the noise high-pitched and full of unbridled pleasure. I sit up on my elbow and pause to watch her for a second. I start to harden, especially as she clenches the sheet by her waist. Her tank top has bunched to her chest, the bottom of her breasts peeking out. Fuck. I have to go to the bathroom.

IMSCREAMING OMG.

“I can’t,” she moans softly, and then her noises turn into a series of breathless cries. “Ahh…ahhh…ahh…” Fucking Christ. I wish I was so deep inside of her right now. Her back arches. “Ryke!” At least she thinks I am.

ARE YOU KIDDING ME. he wants her BAD. THIS IS INSANE.

“I…can’t…” she moans. See, even in her fucking sleep, she knows it’s wrong. So there we go. “Ryke…Ryke…” She cries again, feminine, high-pitched, and I lose it for a second time. “Ryke, ahhh!” I have to enter the fucking bathroom before I come right here.

RYKE IS SO IN DENIAL.

I can’t fucking do this. I grab a magazine from the tile floor, some of the pages crinkled from being wet with shower water. It’s a fashion magazine, and I have a hard time finding a girl without a ton of makeup on. I keep flipping, and then I land on a seven-page spread. Of Daisy. In black-laced lingerie.

HELPME. LIFE IS NOT ON YOUR SIDE, RYKE.

Is the world against me tonight or what?

THAT'S WHAT I WAS SAYINGGG.

I convince myself enough, and my hand resumes its natural course. Ahh..ahhhh…Ryke! A groan catches in my throat. Fuck me. I pulse my hips with the movement of my hand, picturing myself thrusting in between Daisy’s thighs, her back permanently arched, in a constant state of pleasure that she can’t contain. It’s an image that I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to let go. I am so wound up, needing this release fucking hours prior to now. I hear her cries in my ears. I see her climax wash over her face. And her body is all mine, protected within my fucking hands, my long cock fitting entirely inside of her. All of it drives me to a new, intense place, giving me the biggest head rush of my life.

HOLY.

If a simple fucking image is this good, it makes me wonder what the real fucking thing would be like.

you'll find out soon enough.

With trembling fingers, I pick up the gun and point the barrel at the door. A clattering sound reverberates from my living room. I jump, a noise breaching my lips. Shut up, Daisy. What if they hear you? And then the door slowly swings open. Ryke stops short at the sight of me, his eyes filling with concern. “Daisy?” What am I doing? The gun slides out of my unsteady hands and lands safely on my comforter. I can’t breathe. Of course it’s just Ryke. He’s at my side the moment I blink. He rests a knee on the mattress and cups my face between two large hands. “Daisy, look at me.”

He suddenly lifts me up beneath my arms, and before I exhale, he’s on the bed, leaning against my headboard, and he’s placed me on his lap. He peels off his clean gray Penn shirt, and I frown, but I’m too hot and exhausted to make sense of it or protest. His hair is wet, and he wears black jeans.

“Is that a Ryke Meadows test?” I ask. “You only like the ones who can swallow quickly?” I break into a grin, and his brows rise. “What do you know about swallowing?” I shrug. “I know I don’t mind it.” His muscles flex, and he drops his gaze from mine.

INSANE. BRO IS LOSING HIS SELF-CONTROL, I SWEAR.