Page 125 of Ryker
Just for a minute. A couple of strokes and that’s it.
I push into her opening and realize it’s a mistake to think I can ever willingly pull out. Out of her body. Out of her suite. Out of her life.
“Mmmph.” Tara stirs in her sleep again.
“Shhhh,” I bury myself balls-deep in her wet heat. “I just need to feel you, baby.” Moving in and out slowly is torture. Watching the way her body wraps around mine, the glistening coat of her arousal on my dick, the smell of us together… Fuuuuck. “Just a little more.” I keep my pace steady and slow, relishing how tight she is. How beautiful.
Her pussy clamps down on my cock, making me suck in a harsh breath through my clenched teeth.
“Ryker,” Tara whispers.
“Shhhh,” I shove into her again. “Just let me have you for a little longer.”
Her eyes crack open, and she smiles. “You can have me for life.”
My heart trips over itself. I shove into her harder, making her slide up the bed. “I can’t get enough of you.” My thrusts stay steady and slow, but they’re harsher now. “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you, Tara.”
Her head tips back, but she doesn’t say anything else. Maybe she’s fallen back asleep. I hope so. I don’t think I’d have the balls to say all this if she was fully alert. “You’re mine.” Rubbing her clit with my thumb, reading her little cues that tell me if she’s hurting or not. I’m scared to death that clamp on her clit might have bruised her earlier, but she truly seems okay. Thank fuck for small miracles.
“Feels… so good.” Her back arches, but her arms remain limp by her side.
This woman is putty in my hands. I pleasure her until she comes. Her pussy clamps down on my dick and milks it with her orgasm. “Ffffuck,” she squeaks in a sleepy haze.
“Remember this.” My release forces the air from my lungs. “Remember who owns this fucking pussy.” I grunt, emptying myself into her. “You’re mine now.”
No one will touch her after tonight. I made a statement carrying her through my club. Every member now knows who she belongs to.
Specifically, Blake Rittenhouse. That smug bastard doesn’t have the balls to test my tolerance. I’ll cut his throat if he tries.
Pulling out, I shove my finger in her pussy like a plug. “That’s my good girl.” I kiss her inner thigh. “You’re so good to me, baby.”
She stirs again and I look up to see her catching me with my hand caught in her cookie jar. “Get back inside me,” she whispers. “I want your dick in me while I sleep.”
She’s got to be kidding.
Joke or not, I’m going to fucking do it. Sliding against her back, I roll Tara onto her side and drape her leg over my waist. Angling my cock at her entrance, Tara scoots closer and impales herself on me. “Shhh,” she says, kissing my forehead. “Go to sleep.”
???
My dreams are fractured and confusing. When I wake up, reaching for Tara, the last of my nightmares blow into snowflakes that freeze my heart. “Tara?” She’s not here. Ripping the covers off me, I march into the bathroom and flick on the lights. “Tara?” She’s not here either. Rushing across the room, I check the closet, the sofa, even under the fucking bed. “TARA!”
Snagging my cell, I quickly dial D’s number. He doesn’t answer. Shit. I snag my pants off the floor and start stuffing my legs in them when my cell goes off. “Tara’s gone.”
“I’m in your office,” she responds on the other end of the line.
With my heart in my throat, I stare up at the surveillance camera in the corner of our suite. “You’re in my office?”
“Yes.”
“Alone?”
“No. Dmitri’s here too.”
I shove my finger at the camera. “Don’t you fucking move.” Rushing out of the suite, my vision blurs because of how tired I still am. What the fuck even time is it? The club’s quiet, so it’s after hours. A maid is vacuuming at the other end of the hallway and I almost trip over the cord as I beeline for the elevator.
Calm down. She’s in your office. It’s fine. She didn’t leave. She’s not gone.
If this is what it’ll be like to wake up without Tara at the end of the month, I won’t survive it.