Page 39 of Ryker

My gaze bounces between them, but I back up when Mr. Hudson storms towards us growling, “Back away from her.”

Vault’s hands fly up, and he takes several paces back from me. “I didn’t hurt her.”

Mr. Hudson doesn’t look like he believes him, not with how his eyes lock on my arm where Vault’s hand just was.

I shake my head. “He didn’t hurt me. He was only trying to keep me safe.”

Ryker doesn’t seem to hear me. Or see me. It’s like he’s in some other headspace, too far away for us to reach. He wraps a gentle hand around my throat, his gaze sailing across my face, down my neck, and to my chest where I’m clutching the bedsheet wrapped around me.

“He didn’t hurt me, Ryker. Mr. Hudson. Sir.” Fuck, I can’t think straight with him on me like this. It’s hot and scary at the same time. “I promise.”

His eyes drop to my arm again, like he’s checking it for red marks or something. Then he snaps back to my eyes and leans into my face. “Go back to your suite, Butterfly. Now.”

“Not…” Oh my god, why am I so turned on right now? “Not without you.”

“She’s not the one,” Dmitri says from several feet away.

It makes Mr. Hudson’s grip on my throat release and his hand fall to his side.

“She’s not the fucking one, Ry.”

Mr. Hudson moans and leans into me, pressing his forehead against mine. His eyes close. His breaths punch out, fast and hard. His shoulders shake with what I assume is fury.

She’s not the one. I have no clue what that means. Should I be insulted or grateful? It doesn’t matter. “Come back to the room with me,” I whisper. “Please, Sir.”

Ryker’s voice cracks. “He didn’t hurt you?”

“No.” It’s like the fight, or what started it, no longer matters to him. All he seems to care about is my safety. “I’m fine. Come see for yourself.”

Mr. Hudson doesn’t escort me back to my room. He grabs my hands and squeezes them tight, then presses his forehead to mine harder, and starts walking, driving me backwards until we’re both back in the Butterfly suite. He eases up once we’re inside, but his gaze never stops burning into mine.

Holy shit, my heart’s forgotten how to beat.

The door shuts behind us and he continues to drive me through the suite and towards the bed. The bedsheet wrapped around me is too long, and he accidentally steps on it. I realize too late, and step back more, making the sheet unfold and fall to the floor.

He continues maneuvering me, manipulating and guiding my footsteps until my ass hits the side of the mattress and I drop onto the bed. Then he falls to his knees and spreads my legs. “You’re not hurt.”

“N-no.” I don’t understand why he’s acting like a bizarre animal.

He shoves his nose against my pussy and stills. His shoulders tense and I’m not sure how to respond. I press my hand against his head in encouragement, but he jerks away from me. “Don’t do that.”

“Okay. I’m sorry.”

Running his hands up and down my calves, he looks up at me again and we stare at each other. “Don’t be afraid of me.”

“I’m not.”

“You are. Your eyes give it away.”

“I…” Okay, I’m a little scared because I don’t understand his behavior. And more pressing is the fact that it’s turning me on when it’s probably a big red flag. “I just don’t understand you.”

“You’re not supposed to, Butterfly.” He spreads my pussy lips and shoves his tongue inside me, licking and tasting. “You’re just supposed to enjoy me, Tara.”

My name on his lips is a spell. I’m certain of it. And when he stares at me like he is right now, I forget all about my worries and focus on his mouth, his gaze, and the way his hands run up my inner thighs. He tongue-fucks me until I’m a writhing mess. My orgasm comes so fast, I’m almost ashamed.

“That’s my good girl,” he says in a low tone. “Lay back and enjoy it.”

My brain fritzes for a second before I’m able to collect my thoughts and take the reins. Fool me once, Mr. Hudson, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. I’m not about to let him play the “Make Tara come until she passes out so I can leave” game again.

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