Page 87 of Immortal Throne

CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO

After Wrathen’s warning, I knew I shouldn’t be with Ryker again. I especially shouldn’t be letting him touch me the way he was. But I couldn’t help it.

Was I an idiot?

Probably.

Was I going to regret this soon?

Without a fucking doubt.

But for reasons I couldn’t understand, being with him was like a drug for me and I couldn’t stop getting high on him—his closeness, his touch, and the way he tasted…

I was doomed.

So, instead of dwelling on the impending catastrophe of my love life, I watched Ryker move between my thighs and make my world shatter into small pieces. I watched him lick and kiss and nip my sensitive skin. I watched him worship my body.

And when my mind was dizzy with pleasure, my lust sated and my body content, I watched him still.

He was beautiful.

And he would destroy me.

Ryker would be my downfall, but I couldn’t pull myself away.

“You’re lost in thought.” Ryker ran his fingers down my arm. We lay in my bed, Ryker on his back and me half-sprawled over him. The sweat sticking us together had cooled but my body still tingled from the aftermath of multiple orgasms.

If I made Ryker feel half as good as he made me feel, I was a fucking goddess.

“Just thinking about things,” I said.

Ryker snorted and let his hand fall away from my arm. “That was my point.”

“You mean you want to know what I’m thinking?”

“Of course.”

“Isn’t that my line?”

Ryker chuckled, his chest rumbling under my cheek.

I trailed my fingers down his strong chest, swirling patterns along his skin. “I was wondering how it’s possible to hate and yet equally like someone.”

“Do you truly hate me?” He didn’t sound offended. More curious, if anything.

“No. At least not anymore. When you ordered me to be your coffee table, I definitely hated you.”

He rubbed the stubble on his chin. “That was one of my more ingenious moments.”

“More deplorable, you mean.”

“I’m sorry I asked—”

“Ordered.” I lifted my head to glare at him.

“Ordered,” he acknowledged with a dip of his chin. “I’m sorry I ordered you to be my coffee table. I might’ve gotten a little carried away and I liked seeing you on your hands and knees like that.”

“Thank you. For the apology, not for being a dirty pervert.”

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