Page 118 of Ringer's Freedom

Dipping his lips to the shallow indent behind my ear, he says, “Challenge accepted.”

Prying my legs from behind him, he threads his arms under my knees to hold me wide open. I barely have time to blink before he pistons his hips in rapid fire, fucking me like never before.

“Shit!” I scream when, once again, my entire body is overtaken by the earth shattering release. My thighs shake against his biceps as the wet sounds of our joining overpower the radio.

I whimper as Ringer shows no signs of slowing as he hits me with thrust after thrust.

The back of my head thuds against the wall in exhaustion. I’ve gone limp, succumbing to his assault on my pussy. My eyes feel like lead weights, but I’m able to pry them open to set sights on the angelic demon that I call my husband. The smirk lining his lips causes goosebumps to line my skin.

“I want another one.”

My eyes widen, and I groan. Whether it’s of pleasure or defeat, I’ll never know. Probably a little of both.

After not one but two more orgasms, equaling a total offour, he guides me up the stairs and helps me clean up ever so sweetly.

We eat leftover pizza on the couch for dinner, and I won’t lie that I feel entirely fucked and stuffed.

I roll my head along the back of the couch and find him already watching me. “What?”

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he says, pushing a wayward curl behind my ear with his middle finger.

A blush heats my cheeks. “You’re beautiful too.”

He points to himself, the corner of his mouth pulling up into a small smile. “This ugly mug?”

I playfully slap his hand away and giggle. “Stop. No such thing as you and ugly in the same sentence.”

Ringer bites his lip with a chuckle and kisses my forehead. “Whatever you say, Princess.”

* * *

I almost said no when Ringer asked if I wanted to go to The Castle tonight.

I should’ve.

Even though Ringer assures me that he and Ghost are all kosher, I still feel insanely awkward around him. And I fucking hate it.

Especially when Ringer pulls me into his office and, no more than twenty seconds later, announces he forgot something, slipping from the room and leaving Ghost and me alone.

I don’t want to just stand here like a fucking weirdo, so I make my way over to the wall of photos lining the far wall of Ghost’s office. Some of the pictures are old as hell, some possibly older than Ghost. But some are as recent as right before Pebbles’s accident.

There’s a photo of Brenna and Lyric sitting on the edge of the bar with their arms wrapped around each other, smiling at the camera.

“Pebbles took that picture the night before she was kidnapped.” Ghost’s deep timbre breaks through my thoughts.

“It must be weird without all of them here.”

“I’m not going to lie, and I’ll never admit it outside of this room because I don’t want to make anyone upset, but I fucking miss it. I hate it here now.”

My brows dip in question. “You hate it?”

He shrugs. “It’s not the same.”

“Why not? You still have all the same girls, minus two. You still have Lyric.”

“Nah. I don’t.” He smiles softly to himself, looking down towards where his boots are rubbing a hole in the carpet.

“What do you mean?”

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