Chapter 11
eleven
. . .
Ryker
The last thread holding me back snapped the moment I saw that knife in Danny's hand.
One inch closer to Amanda's perfect skin, and I would have ended him permanently, consequences be damned.
They carted him off to jail last night—assault with a deadly weapon, violation of a restraining order, a list of priors that'll keep him locked up for years.
The threat is gone. The beast inside me is satisfied.
She's safe. But something's shifted in me.
The knowledge that I could have lost her has crystallized everything.
I've never been a man who hesitates. When I want something, I take it.
And I want Amanda. Not just in my bed. Not just in my house.
In my life. Permanently. Irrevocably. Forever.
I've been carrying the ring for three days. Simple platinum band, single diamond that cost more than my first car. Not flashy—she wouldn't want flashy—but substantial enough that every fucker who looks at her will know she belongs to someone. To me.
She's in the kitchen making dinner, humming to herself as she stirs something that smells amazing. Wearing one of my t-shirts and tiny shorts that barely cover that perfect ass I've become obsessed with. Domestic. Beautiful. Mine.
I move behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist. She leans back into me immediately, that complete trust still gutting me every time.
"Hey," she says, tilting her head to smile up at me. "Dinner's almost ready."
"Need to ask you something first." My voice comes out rougher than intended. Nerves. Fucking nerves. I've stepped into rings with men twice my size without hesitation, but this tiny woman has me shaking.
She turns in my arms, brow furrowed slightly. "Everything okay?"
I step back, reaching into my pocket. Her eyes widen as I drop to one knee, the movement awkward for a man my size.
"Ryker..." she breathes, hands flying to her mouth.
"I'm shit at speeches," I start, the words coming out gruff. "Never been good with fancy words. But I know what I want." I open the small velvet box, revealing the ring. "You're mine—forever, princess. Marry me."
Not a question. A declaration. A certainty.
Tears spill over her lashes, tracking down her flushed cheeks. For a horrifying moment, I think I've fucked up. Moved too fast. Asked for too much.
Then she's launching herself at me, nearly knocking me backward despite my size. "Yes," she sobs against my neck, arms wound tight around me. "Yes, yes, yes."
Relief crashes through me, followed by something I barely recognize—pure fucking joy. I lift her easily, spinning her around the kitchen. Her laughter fills the space, the most beautiful sound I've ever heard.
When I set her down, I take the ring from the box with shaking hands. Slide it onto her finger where it belongs. Where it will stay until the day I die.
"Perfect fit," I murmur, bringing her hand to my lips.
"Like us," she whispers, eyes shining with tears and happiness.
I capture her mouth in a kiss that starts gentle but quickly ignites into something more primal. My hands slide down to cup her ass, lifting her easily. Her legs wrap around my waist, her core pressing against the hardness already straining against my zipper.
"Dinner," she gasps against my lips as I carry her toward the bedroom.
"Later," I growl, already pulling her shirt over her head. "Need to celebrate properly."
In the bedroom, I toss her onto the mattress, yanking my own shirt off in one fluid movement.
Her eyes darken as they roam over my chest, my abs, the tribal tattoos that wrap around my biceps.
I've never felt worthy of that look—the pure appreciation, the desire. But I'll spend my life trying to be.
I strip her shorts off next, finding her already wet and ready. "Fuck," I groan, running one finger through her slick folds. "So perfect. So ready for me."
"Always ready for you," she pants, spreading her thighs wider in invitation.
I shed my jeans and boxers in one movement, cock springing free, already hard and aching. In one fluid motion, I flip her onto her stomach, pulling her hips up until she's on her knees, ass in the air. The position is primal, possessive—me claiming what's mine.
"Beautiful," I murmur, running my hands over the curve of her ass, the dip of her waist. "My beautiful fiancée."
The word sends a jolt through my system. Fiancée. Soon to be wife. Mine forever.
I position myself at her entrance, pushing in with one slow, deliberate stroke that has her gasping and clutching at the sheets. The tight heat of her body grips me like a vise, perfect and welcoming.
"Feel that?" I growl, gripping her hips hard enough to mark. "How perfect we fit? Like you were made for me."
"Made for you," she echoes, pushing back to take me deeper. "Only you, Ryker."
I start a punishing rhythm, each thrust driving deeper than the last. The sound of skin against skin, her breathless moans, my own grunts of pleasure fill the room. Primal. Possessive. Perfect.
"Who do you belong to, princess?" I demand, one hand sliding up her spine to tangle in her hair.
"You," she gasps, her inner walls fluttering around me. "Only you, Daddy."
The word sends a bolt of pure lust through my system. I pull out suddenly, flipping her onto her back. Need to see her face. Need to watch those eyes as I claim her.
I push back in immediately, covering her body with mine. This position is more intimate, face to face, chest to chest. I can feel her heartbeat against mine.
"That's right," I praise, setting a slower, deeper rhythm. "Daddy's good little girl. Gonna be my wife. Wear my ring. Carry my babies."
She moans, wrapping her legs around my waist to take me deeper. "Yes," she breathes, eyes locked on mine. "Want it all with you."
I slide one hand between us, finding her clit with practiced ease. Circle it slowly as I continue thrusting. "Gonna fill this sweet body," I promise darkly. "Breed you so deep and dirty, just like my princess likes it.”
Her breathing quickens, a tell-tale sign she's close. "Please," she whimpers, nails digging into my shoulders.
"Come for me," I command, increasing the pressure on her sensitive bundle of nerves. "Come on Daddy's cock like a good girl."
She shatters beautifully, back arching off the bed, inner walls clamping down on my cock like a vise. The sight of her lost in pleasure pushes me to the edge, but I grit my teeth, holding back. Not done with her yet. Not by a long shot.
As she comes down from her high, I withdraw carefully, ignoring her whimper of protest. Roll onto my back and pull her on top of me.
"Ride me, princess," I order gently. "Show me how much you want Daddy's cum."
Her cheeks flush pink, but she straddles me without hesitation. Guides my cock back to her entrance and sinks down slowly, taking me to the hilt with a gasp of pleasure-pain.
"So deep like this," she murmurs, adjusting to the new angle.
I grip her hips, guiding her into a rhythm. "That's it," I praise as she begins to move. "Take what you need. Take what's yours."
She rides me with newfound confidence, her body undulating above mine like a goddess. The diamond on her finger catches the light as she braces her hands on my chest. Marking her as mine in yet another way.
"Gonna keep you full of my babies," I promise, thrusting up to meet her downward movements. "One after another. Keep you round and glowing. Keep you satisfied and safe."
"Yes," she moans, pace quickening as she chases another release. "Want that. Want your babies, Ryker."
The admission sends fire racing through my veins. I sit up suddenly, changing the angle, wrapping my arms around her back to hold her close. Our foreheads press together, breaths mingling, her arms wound around my neck.
"I love you," I growl, the words still new and raw. "Fucking love you more than anything."
"I love you too," she gasps, inner walls beginning to flutter around me again. "So much."
In this position, we're completely connected. Her breasts press against my chest, her heartbeat thundering against mine. I can feel every shudder, every gasp, every pulse of pleasure through her body.
"Come with me," I urge, feeling my own release building. "Together, princess."
Our rhythm grows erratic, desperate. Her nails dig into my shoulders, my hands grip her hips hard enough to bruise.
When she comes this time, she cries my name—not "Daddy," but "Ryker"—and the raw intimacy of it triggers my own release.
I bury myself deep inside her and roar as I empty my seed, marking her from within.
We collapse together, a tangle of sweaty limbs and racing hearts. I roll to the side, bringing her with me, still buried inside her. Neither of us willing to break the connection just yet.
For long minutes, we lie there in silence, her head tucked under my chin, my arms wrapped securely around her. Protected. Safe. Mine.