Page 49 of Game Over

“Always knew you could,” he pants between licks. “So fucking beautiful when you fall apart. I’ve wanted to taste this since I first saw you.” His words tumble out unfiltered. “Your sweet little pussy, gushing all over my hand, my mouth.”

The restraints bite into my wrists as aftershocks ripple through me. I’ve never seen him like this—face flushed, movements frantic, composure completely abandoned. His hand trembles against my thigh, and the realization hits me: I’ve somehow broken through his armor.

“Christ, Kira,” he moans, meeting my gaze through the mirror with reverence. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

I stare at Ryker through the mirror, shocked by his transformation. His meticulous persona—the man who’s been ten steps ahead this entire time—is unraveling. His chest heaves with ragged breaths, his eyes wild with a hunger I’ve never witnessed before.

“Can’t wait,” he growls, more to himself than to me. His fingers fumble with his belt buckle, hands trembling in their urgency. “Need to—fuck?—”

The restraints hold me in place, bent over the barre, forced to watch as he yanks down his zipper and shoves his pants and underwear down just enough to free himself. His cock springs out, thick and long, the metal of his Prince Albert piercing catching the light. I can’t look away as he wraps his hand around himself, already slick with my release.

“Look what you do to me,” he pants, stroking himself with an intensity that seems almost painful. “Always so fucking perfect.”

The controlled persona he’s maintained dissolves into a beast. His eyes lock with mine in the mirror as he positions himself behind me, the tip of his cock brushing against the curve of my ass. But instead of pushing inside, he continues stroking himself furiously, his free hand gripping my hip so hard I’ll have bruises.

“I’ve wanted you for so fucking long,” he groans, his voice breaking. “Dreamed about this—about you?—”

His rhythm becomes frenzied, his whole body tightening. A guttural sound tears from his throat as he comes, hot pulses landing across my lower back and ass. The sensation makes me flinch in the restraints, the warmth of it spreading across my skin as he marks me with his release.

The only sound in the room for several beats is our combined panting. In the mirror, I see him stare down at his handiwork with an expression of reverent disbelief, his fingertips gently spreading his cum across my skin like an artist signing his canvas.

17

RYKER

My hand trembles as I wipe it clean. This wasn’t part of the plan.

I stare at the mess I’ve made across Kira’s skin, at how her body still quivers from her release. Her scent hangs thick in the air—that thick arousal that’s driven me to the edge. I’ve mapped out every second of our time together and calculated her responses to the millisecond. Still, this... this wasn’t in my programming.

When she squirted, a beast I barely recognized clawed to the surface. In that instant, it became nothing but instinct—an animal snarling at the gates of my restraint that had to be sated. The sound that tore from my throat wasn’t mine. The way I pounced, consumed, marked her... that wasn’t scripted.

I unfasten her restraints around her wrist. “Get up.” My voice sounds foreign even to me. Harder than intended.

Kira flinches, and I hate how that satisfies the demon within. She moves slowly, her limbs unsteady. I grab a blanket and wrap it around her shoulders, not meeting her eyes.

“Follow me.”

The hallway stretches before us, my footsteps measured while hers shuffle behind. My mind races through calculations and recalibrations. I need to reset. We need to reset.

I unlock a door at the end of the corridor and step aside. “Recreation room. You have three hours.”

Her eyes widen at the sight—comfortable seating, a wall of books, a gaming console, television. A slice of normalcy in this underground prison.

“Why?” she asks.

“Because I need to...” What? Think? Regain composure? Remember who’s in charge here? “You earned a break. Don’t make me regret it.”

I move to the observation panel hidden behind a one-way mirror. From here, I can see everything while remaining invisible.

“I’ll be watching.”

As I close the door, locking her inside, I press my forehead against the cool metal. There’s a glitch I need to debug in my system. I feel my control slipping like falling without a parachute.

I can’t allow it again.

I settle into my chair on the other side of the one-way glass, fingers drumming against the metal desk. The monitors surrounding me display every angle of the recreation room—a space I designed specifically for her comfort and pleasure. She should be thrilled and grateful.

Kira sits motionless on the edge of the couch, blanket clutched around her shoulders like armor. Her eyes—those expressive eyes I’ve stared at for countless hours through her webcam—stare blankly at the wall. The gaming console remains untouched. The books are unread. Everything I’ve provided, ignored.

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