I look at the two of them, ready to explode. Delilah grabs Brett by the arm, pulling him to the back door. “We need to let them talk.”
“I don’t want to leave her with him,” Brett argues, but he follows her.
When the door closes behind them, I spin on Ryder. “What the hell was that? You said you were here to pick up Tyler and talk. That was unnecessary and inappropriate.”
“Do you really think I care about what’s appropriate? He kept spouting off, I countered.”
“You were an ass. And I do not belong to you. I’m not a piece of property.”
He moves closer into my space. I have to take a step back because I’ve never been able to think when he’s so close. That step does little good when he follows. And like a fool I continue to step back until I have nowhere left to go. “You. Are. Mine. You have always been mine. You will continue to be mine untilIsay so.”
“That’s not how it works, Ryder. You don’t even want me.”
“Want has never been the problem, pixie. In ten years, I haven’t stopped wanting you. The problem is I hate you.” He presses into me, those eyes growing more intense and darker by the minute. I’m caged in, unable to go anywhere. Trapped. “You left me to die. You took a hammer to my stone heart, broke it into a million pieces, then took the pieces with you. All I have now is this hole in my chest of nothingness.” He runs the back of his knuckles up my side, lightly grazing my breast. My body betrays me as I begin to tremble beneath the heat of –HIM. He drops his mouth to my ear, swirling his tongue lightly before grazing the lobe with his teeth. “But I have wanted you since the day I saw you. I willalways want you.”
His mouth moves across my jaw, and my hands fly to his chest. I have every intention of pushing him away, but they have their own ideas as they clutch his shirt tightly. “Ryder,” I moan, even being betrayed by my voice.
His fingers trail the inside of my thigh slowly until he reaches my covered core, throbbing and burning as he cups it roughly. “You still get wet thinking about me, pixie? When you fuck the boy scout, is it me you imagine when you come? Maybe I should make you come again, so the memory can be fresh next time you’re with him.”
God if I weren’t burning for him, I would punch him in the face. But I can’t think straight where he’s concerned. All common sense and self-respect fly out of the window of a moving train.
Which is probably why instead of doing all the things I should, I grip his face, bringing him to my mouth. Our lips meet in a fiery tangle that holds nothing but promises of regret. Because I know when this is done, I will regret it.
“Fuck me,” I say against his mouth. “Make me remember.”
With a growl, he hoists me to the counter, while pulling my shorts off at the same time. It’s definitely a unique skill that is like dousing fire with gasoline. I grab his shirt, pulling it over his head while he does the same to me. His mouth falls to my breasts as he roughly takes a nipple between his teeth, biting hard enough to take my breath away.
“Fucking soaked. Knew you would be,” he grunts as he runs a finger through my folds. “You don’t need to remember, do you, pixie? You never forgot.”
“Never,” I moan when he thrusts two fingers into me without warning. He shoves them inside of me with a brutal force that brings tears to my eyes. And I need more.
He works my pussy with his fingers over and over, eventually adding a third, as he continues to bite at every inch of my skin.
Marking me.
That’s his reminder.
A reminder that I will see later. A reminder for anyone else who dares to touch what’s his. Because I am his. I always will be.
I come with a scream that I’m certain the neighbors hear, barely getting a chance to recover when he thrust his hard cock inside.
“God fucking dammit,” he growls when he’s buried deep. He wraps his fingers around my throat, squeezing tightly as he brings my mouth back to his. “Why do you have to feel like home?” he asks like it’s a curse.
Maybe it is. Maybe this really is our hell. The only place we are destined to find that moment of contentment through the pain. The only place we can’t have.
My nails dig into his back as he punishes my pussy. Cries of pain and pleasure and pleas for more escape my lips. I’m already back on that edge of bliss. My core squeezes and clenches around him, preparing for the explosion.
Then he stops. He pulls away. I’m afraid he’s going to leave me like this, and I nearly beg for him to come back. I don’t get the chance when he drags me from the counter to my feet. He spins me around, folding me over the stool he moved moments ago, then impales me once again.
His hips snap nearly viciously, almost cruelly, like he’s hoping he can work me out of his system. I press back into him, needing everything he has to give. Needing the pain and the pleasure as much as he does.
“Nine fucking years,” he grunts breathlessly with his fingers digging into my hips.
“I’m sorry,” I cry out, my climax beginning to peak once again.
He pulls me up by my hair, forcing me to look at him. His eyes are tortured and pained. So much being said without a word. He takes my mouth again as he snakes his finger around, finding my clit. He rubs circles around the nub as he thrusts up, hitting the spot that only he’s been able to find. He does it again, making my knees weak. The third time, I shatter around him as he throws his head back with a carnal growl.
We stand there for a minute or two, his head pressed into my shoulder, breathing heavily.
