Page 32 of Ryker

“He’s not here.” Knowing him, he’s in his “office” which is nothing more than a dark room in the basement with a punching bag hung in the center and a cot against the far wall.

She slumps a little. “Oh.”

Fuck my life. Running a hand down my face, I sigh heavily. “Leave it here for him. I’m sure he’ll be back.” I step out of her way, then wait for her to drop the tray on my desk. “Go home and get some rest, Soph.”

“I will.” She yawns and stuffs her hands in the back pocket of her jeans while she steps towards me. “You okay, boss?”

No. And I won’t be until Tara fucking Reed gets out of here.

Chapter 12

Tara

Holy shit, what time is it? Rolling out of bed, I can’t see much of anything because the curtains have been drawn again.

I feel boneless. Stretching my arms and legs, the memory of what Sir did to me with that spreader bar floods my mind. My thigh muscles hurt like a motherfucker. Don’t get my started on my pussy. “Shit.”

Ding!

Something lights up on my end table. It’s not my cell, since I left mine at home, but it’s definitely someone’s.

And the only person in here besides me has been Sir.

Rolling over takes more effort than it should. Christ, my body is Jell-O. Plucking the phone off the end table, I tap the screen and see a message.

Take a shower, Butterfly. We have lunch reservations at two.

I’m not that hungry, honestly. But I’m dying for a drink. My head’s throbbing and my pussy aches. Just getting out of bed and walking to the bathroom makes me stumble and whimper.

The lights turn on automatically once I enter the bathroom, forcing me to squint against the brightness. “Turn off,” I groan, smacking the heel of my palm against the light switch. “Please, turn off.” I smash it three times before the lights dim.

That’s good enough.

The shower’s huge and has more buttons in it than a space shuttle. It takes me forever to figure out how to get the water running the way I’d like. Just standing under the rain showerhead, letting the water fall over me, feels incredible. I take my time, enjoying the heat and relaxing atmosphere. The shower lights are a dim blue hue, which is lovely. And so extra. Bet there’s a switch to make it beat with the music on that control panel too.

Not that I’ll mess with it.

By the time I’m done in the bathroom, my headache isn’t so bad. Nothing a few cups of coffee can’t fix.

But now I’ve realized that I don’t have any clothes or makeup with me because my suitcases still haven’t returned to my room. Shit. Going back over to the nightstand, I pick up the cell phone and type a message.

Can you please bring me my clothes, Sir?

A ding sounds from the sofa, and it scares me half to death.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” I say, holding my chest. My heart gallops and head pounds with renewed force. “You scared the shit out of me!”

The curtains automatically open, revealing Mr. Hudson stalking towards me. I squint against the light and automatically cover my tits and pussy.

“Put your arms down,” he says.

I obey easily enough. There’s something strange about submitting to a Dom. I learned how much I liked it back in college, though it didn’t end well the first time. Or the second.

Or the third.

I have shit taste in men and even worse taste in Doms, I guess. My track record doesn’t bode well for Mr. Hudson. But his reputation supersedes my past lover’s inability to Dom safely and correctly. I’m hoping to learn more and explore myself without the backlash of being abused in the process this time.

Lowering my arms, I keep my gaze locked on his. I might be submissive lately, but there’s a powerhouse in me too, and that part of me won’t cower. Maintaining eye contact is something I need.

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