Page 23 of Ryker

Still, I’m no quitter.

Closing my eyes, I imagine what it will be like to have Mr. Hud—Sir—take me from behind. Will he grip my hips and rail me until I can’t catch my breath? Will he bite my shoulder and scratch ribbons down my back?

My nipples harden to little buds, and I pinch one hard enough to make me gasp.

With one hand between my legs, the other pulling and twisting my nipple, a weight settles in my lower belly. My arousal becomes slicker. Using it as lube to rub my clit harder, I stare up at the camera.

I want you to watch.

I want you to see what you’ve paid a fortune for.

I want you to want me.

I want you to fuck me.

I want you to own me.

I want you to break me.

Will Sir tongue fuck me like I’m his last meal? Will he pull my hair and choke me out? Will he make me beg for his cum or paint my face with it while I sleep?

Fuck, I’m getting hotter. My pace quickens until I’m rubbing my clit hard and fast. My other hand drops between my legs and I shove more fingers inside myself. My knees dig into the floor painfully.

Will he fuck me like a whore? Treat me like a princess? Tie me to the bed and use my body to get off with?

Oh God, I’m so close… so damn close…

Will he spit in my mouth and slap me as he fucks me? Will he make me gag on his dick like he did his fingers? Will he spank my ass so hard I can’t sit for a week?

Pressure builds. My breaths turn ragged.

Will he use a spreader bar and make me lie on display in obscene positions? Will he smack my cunt and fuck me with whatever is within reach?

My body coils a moment before it explodes. The orgasm’s long and mild, but oh so relieving. I fall forward, my knees spreading wider as I buck against my hand, rubbing my clit long enough to ride out the last pulses of my needy pussy.

Panting, I stare up at the camera, even as I rest my head on the side of the bed.

It’s been a long day and an impossibly long night. To think this morning I went for a five-mile jog, had a three-hour long conference with my stepfather and his cronies, settled on two properties, followed by a meeting with the permit office, a conference call after that with my stepbrother and assistant, along with completing a pile of paperwork and drafting emails to go out so my family thinks I’m working when I’m not, all before a quick mani/pedi and finally the Butterfly Ceremony. I’m fucking exhausted.

And now that I’ve accomplished everything I wanted to today and finally took the edge off a little, my eyes close and I drift off.

Still on my knees.

Still waiting for Sir to return.

???

Ryker

It’s four in the morning before I’ve put out every little fire, soothed every whiney rich fuck’s complaint, and checked the last occupied room to make sure all is well. My damn eyes burn, legs are like heavy lead pipes and this tuxedo is suffocating.

I’ve been too concerned about the well-being of my employees and the satisfaction of my members to check on Tara. She’s probably in bed, all tucked under the expensive silk bedding, sound asleep with no worries in the world.

The filthy rich are carefree people, right?

And Tara thinks she’s entitled enough to weasel her way to being the Butterfly without having to suffer any of the consequences.

Must be nice.

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