Page 77 of A Ryan Recollection

“You feel how hard you make me? I can’t get enough of you, Jessie,” I groan as my balls tighten and heat pools at the base of my spine.

“Shane!”

“Who do you belong to, sweetheart?”

“You,” she pants as her walls tighten around me and I feel her orgasm cresting.

“Say it louder,” I grunt, fucking her harder than she deserves, but I’m feral for her. The thought of that prick’s hands on her, of all of the jackasses in here tonight who looked at her and thought that they might have a shot, it makes the rage burn inside me. I am a possessive asshole when it comes to her and I know it. I allow people to look at her, to want her, to want to taste and touch what is mine. Because the knowledge that she belongs to me and they will never have her makes me feel invincible.

She makes me invincible.

“You,” she screams as her climax rips through her, making her hot little pussy squeeze my dick, wrenching my own orgasm from me as she milks me.

I lean over her, my lips pressed against her ear. “Damn fucking right you do,” I hiss as I empty myself into her.

When I’m done, I tuck my cock back into my pants, pull down her skirt and scoop her into my arms, holding her still trembling body close to my chest.

She snakes an arm around my neck, her warm fingers curling a strand of my hair.

“I love you,” she whispers as she nestles her head against my chest and I carry her out of the office and through the club.

It’s not as crowded as it was an hour ago, but it’s still busy enough for us to draw attention as I walk through to the exit that leads to the basement at the back of the club. It consists of two doors. One has a passcode and the other can only be accessed by our fingerprints.

I notice the concern in some of the faces as we pass by, and I hold her closer, not wanting any drunken hands to touch her to check if she’s okay. I mean if they asked me, I’d happily tell them she can’t walk because I just fucked her brains out.

She buries her face in my neck, her breath hot on my skin.

“Almost home, sweetheart.”

“Hmm,” she murmurs contentedly.

A few moments later,I step out of the elevator that leads to our penthouse apartment. Conor is standing in the hallway waiting for us, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his sweatpants.

“You see all that?” I ask him.

He can watch the feed from the security cameras in the club from up here, and he also has cameras in his office. And he is always watching her.

“Yeah,” he grinds out the word, his jaw clenched tightly shut.

Jessie lifts her head and blinks at him. I feel the tension creeping into her body as she stiffens in my arms. She thinks he’s pissed at her, but I know him better than that.

He walks over to us. “Give her to me.”

I kiss her head softly before I allow him to take her from my arms.

“Are you, okay, angel?” he asks, running his hand over her hair as he squeezes her tight. He turns and starts to walk down the hallway to our bedroom and I fall into step beside him.

“Yes. And I can walk if you like?”

“I don’t like,” he snaps.

“Are you mad?” she whispers.

“Not at you,” he replies, giving me the side eye.

“Please don’t be mad at Shane. I don’t want you to fight,” she says, placing her hand on his face.

“We won’t fight, angel. Promise,” he reassures her before kissing her forehead.

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