Page 60 of Game Over

I bite my lip to keep from moaning as he teases me with featherlight touches, never giving enough pressure where I desperately need it. The ropes dig into my skin as I instinctively arch toward his hand.

I hang suspended in the net, aware of how exposed I am. My breath comes in shallow gasps as Ryker’s fingers withdraw from my center. I should feel relief. Instead, I feel empty, aching.

“Remember your safe word?” he asks, voice husky with want.

“Respawn,” I whisper.

He nods, eyes never leaving mine. “Use it if you need to.”

I open my mouth to end this twisted game. The word sits on my tongue, ready to spill out, but I swallow it back. A darkness inside me doesn’t want this to stop.

Ryker positions himself at the opening he’s created in the net. I feel the hot, hard length of him against my inner thigh. He’s freed himself from his pants but hasn’t removed them completely.

“No,” I protest weakly, turning my face away. My hips shift toward him despite my words.

“Your mouth says one thing,” he growls, beginning to slide himself against my wetness without penetrating. “Your body says another.”

I gasp as a cool metal grazes my most sensitive spot—the Prince Albert piercing. I’d seen it before during our previous encounters, but feeling it against me sends electric shocks through my nervous system.

“Stop,” I plead, the lie evident in my pressing against him, seeking more contact with that tantalizing metal.

He drags himself slowly up and down my slick folds, the piercing creating the most exquisite friction against my clit. My head falls back, a moan escaping despite my attempts to stifle it.

“Say the word and I’ll stop,” he challenges, knowing I won’t.

The safe word burns in my throat, unspoken. I could end this now and reassert some restraint. Instead, I bite my lip as he continues his torturous rhythm, the piercing hitting exactly where I need it with each stroke.

“I hate you,” I gasp, even as my thighs tremble with building pleasure.

His dark chuckle tells me he sees right through me. “Keep telling yourself that.”

I feel him trembling against me, his body vibrating with restraint. His careful strokes along my folds become erratic, desperate. There’s a change in his eyes now—a wildness I haven’t seen before, even during his previous lapses in discipline.

“Fuck,” he groans, voice ragged. “I can’t—I need?—”

The careful, calculating Ryker is fracturing before my eyes. His breathing grows harsh, pupils blown wide as he positions himself at my entrance.

“I’ve waited so fucking long,” he rasps, fingers digging into my thighs through the openings in the net. “Dreamed about this tight little pussy for too long.”

His words shock me—not just their crudeness, but the raw desperation behind them. This isn’t the meticulous man who planned my abduction. This results from the culmination of every action he’s taken in the last two years. A result he didn’t foresee in his meticulous planning.

“You’re mine,” he growls, pressing forward slightly. “I want to hear your pretty little voice tell me exactly who you belong to. Fucking say you’re mine, Mischief.”

I gasp as the head of his cock stretches me, the cool metal of his piercing a startling contrast to his heat.

“I—”

“I need to hear you admit what we both know.”

His composure disintegrates completely, hands shaking as they grip me. “Tell me your pussy belongs to me. Tell me that deep down you want this as bad as I do.”

The rope net sways as he presses closer, his whole body quivering with need. Sweat beads on his forehead, teeth clenched as he fights to maintain the last threads of his control.

“Please,” he begs, voice rough with vulnerability. “Fucking tell me, Kira. I’m dying here.”

The power I suddenly hold over this man, who’s dominated every aspect of my captivity, is intoxicating.

I stare into Ryker’s desperate eyes, feeling the head of his cock stretching my entrance while the metal of his piercing presses against my sensitive flesh. His vulnerability in this moment—the trembling hands, the cracking voice.

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