Page 53 of Ryker

I nod, desperate for him to not stop, even if I’m not sure how much more I can take.

Head spinning pleasure rolls through me, again and again. My vision’s blurry too.

What the hell is he doing to me?

Ryker presses his hand on my lower belly, rocks back, and slams into me. I lose all breath. He repeats this again, and again, and again. I claw down his arms. My teeth grind as I bite down on the fabric stuffed in my mouth as hard as possible while he fucks me. And I do mean F-U-C-K-S me. It’s brutal. Fast. Hard. My headboard slams against the wall so loudly, I’m shocked drywall hasn’t crumbled down on us yet.

He fucks me like he hates me.

I love it. Like I said, I don’t care if we’re enemies as long as we’re something.

My body coils again and pain, pleasure, and vertigo hit me all at once. Gravity doesn’t exist. The world doesn’t exist. Floating in subspace, I come again and scream until I don’t remember who I am anymore.

Chapter 19

Ryker

Shit! I’ve gone too far.

Tara’s screams went from music to my ears to a goddamn nightmare. She started hyperventilating as I lost my mind, railing her sweet pussy, and she passed out.

I’ve never had this happen before.

Pulling out, I’m so furious with myself. The only thing that stops me from cutting my dick off is the need to get Tara conscious again. She’s my priority. My only priority.

“Tara.” I pat her cheek. Her head’s slumped, and my gaze drops to the fingerprint bruises on her neck again. Anger spikes in my bloodstream. I’m a monster. She was attacked less than an hour ago and I’ve gone and fucked her like a raging beast with no control. “Tara, wake up, baby.”

Baby.

I’ve never called a woman baby in my fucking life.

My cheeks tingle as panic sets in. Lifting her out of the bed, I carry my girl into the bathroom and step into the shower, sitting down with her in my lap. Hitting the lever, cold water pours over us and Tara sucks in a shocked breath.

“There you are.” I brush her hair back so I can see her better. “You had a moment there.”

Tara’s brow pinches, and she tries to crawl out of my lap. “Not yet,” I say. “I’m not ready to let you go yet.”

The familiarity of those words stops my heart in its tracks. Instead of acknowledging the pain in my chest, I ignore it and stay focused on Tara.

“I’m so sorry,” she says, sounding half high. “I don’t know what happened.”

I do. I went too far, and she’s suffering the consequences of my actions. Apologizing won’t make it better. Explaining myself won’t help either. I just need to make sure it never happens again.

But, damn did it feel good to let loose for once.

Jesus Christ, I’m an asshole.

Sitting on the floor of her sizeable shower, cold water rains down on our heads, and I rock her.

“Feels good,” she mumbles.

When Tara cups my face, I think she’s going to kiss me, and I can’t let that happen, so I keep her talking. “What feels good, Butterfly?”

“My body.” Her words slur together as if she’s half-drunk. “The way you…ffffuck me. Feels ssssso good.”

She’d passed out. That’s not good. In my club, that would put you on notice unless the person specifically requests, and gives consent in advance, to be fucked out of their mind until they collapse. Or choked out until they fall unconscious.

Tara hadn’t asked for either of those things.

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