Page 81 of Ryker

He flinches back. “What?”

“Kiss me. On my mouth. Right now.”

Ryker shakes his head. “How did we go from pizza to kissing?”

“You said you wanted to take care of me. Prove it. I’m sad and confused, and I’d feel so much better if you would just kiss me.”

My heart sinks as he backs away from me. “That’s not happening. I don’t kiss club members.”

Figures he’d pull that card. It’s absolutely bullshit. “Fine. Consider me no longer a member then.” I storm towards the door, hoping he’ll fall for my bluff and give me what I’m asking for. “I’m done being the Butterfly.”

I’m halfway out the door when he grabs my hand and yanks me back. Slamming the door shut, he rears up on me. “What are you doing?”

“I just told you, I’m done. I quit being the Butterfly.”

His gaze narrows. “Because I won’t kiss you?”

“Because you won’t show me who you really are!” I scream in his face.

“Oh, and you have?”

“What?”

“I know nothing about you, Miss Reed. And though you may have won this…” He flicks his hand around the room, “privilege, that doesn’t mean you’ve earned the right to know things about me or demand me to give you things I’m not willing to give.”

“And yet I’m supposed to trust you.”

“You can trust that I would never hurt you.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” I jab my finger in his chest. “You keep hurting me. You make me feel like I’m a thing. A job. An obligation.”

His shoulders sag. “How? By giving you orgasms and fulfilling your fantasies? Boo fucking hoo, princess.”

“You have no idea what my fantasies are.”

“Then tell me and I’ll make them happen.”

A cold, cackling laugh bursts out of me. “I just did, and you shot me down.”

“You don’t come to my club for a kiss. You come to get railed.”

He’s right. Sort of.

“Tell me your other fantasies.” Ryker tries grabbing my hand again, but I pull back before he can touch me.

“Oh, so now who’s being demanding? Do you honestly think I owe you my personal information? My secrets and desires? God, you’re the biggest hypocrite on the planet.” I shove him back and he stumbles until his legs hit the bed where he catches himself.

“Hypocrite or not, I’m here for your pleasure, Tara. That’s all. I’m your Dom who will see to your sexual needs safely and fulfill all your fantasies before you leave at the end of the month.”

If my eyes roll any harder, they’ll detach from my skull. “That’s not all a Butterfly needs, you insufferable dickhead.”

“That’s exactly what she gets here, Miss Reed. It’s what every woman in this club would sell her soul for and you’re shitting all over it.”

My blood chills. “Well,” I say, fanning my hair over my shoulder. “I guess I’m not like the other women in this club. And you being my pleasure Dom isn’t all I fucking need.”

We scowl at each other so hard I swear the toxicity between us makes it hard to breathe.

“Maybe you’re right,” he finally says. Picking his shirt up off the floor, he tugs it on. “Maybe you should leave.”

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