Chapter Thirty-Nine
Rygaard
I could hardly move a muscle after the fuck session we had last night. I let her sleep for about an hour before waking her up with my tongue between her legs.
She tasted even better after all these years we spent apart. I couldn’t get enough of her. Tasting her, savoring her, she was my drug, and I was a happy addict.
The way the sheet clung to her perfect breasts and hugged her pussy tight had me cursing. That should be me, not the fucking sheet.
Fuck, I’m getting hard again just looking at her, thinking about all the ways she took me, how her body craved everything I gave her.
Made me think: Christian Grey’s Red Room had nothing on my Dark Room, no toys necessary. Just me, my girl, and the fire between us. She stayed ready for the heat I brought.
"I can feel you staring at me, Ry Ry," she said, yawning as she turned over.
With a tug of the sheet, it caught on her foot and slid down, revealing a succulent breast I could never get enough of."Princess," I rasp.
"Hmm?"
"I need you again," I whisper, crawling onto the bed and covering her body with mine, nudging her legs apart. "I’ll never get tired of this," I say, slipping my hand between her thighs and making her come with a quick, shuddering orgasm, just in time to slide inside her.
“A girl could get used to being woken up like this every day,” she moans, taking me deep like the good girl she was.
"Then you better start getting used to it, Princess. You’re not going anywhere.”
“Oh, Ry,” she groans as I feed the last inch into her. “You can’t beg me to stay,” she whispers.
“I refuse to let you go,” I growl, lifting one leg over my shoulders, gripping her hips, and slamming into her. “I fucking love you, Presley. You belong to me. No one else. Understand me?” The bed scrapes across the floor with every thrust.
“Yes! God, I understand!” she pants, teetering at the edge of her orgasm.
“Fucking right you do,” I snarl. “And you're only coming because I’m allowing it. I want to feel every quiver, every squeeze of your pussy while I pound into you.”
The possessiveness in my voice must’ve pushed her over the edge.
“Ry!” she screams, nails digging into my back as she clings to me, her orgasm tearing through her body.
“God, you look perfect coming undone for me,” I mutter, chasing my own release.
I could stay like this forever, wrapped in her, buried inside her.
As the high fades, reality sets in like a slow, burning ache.
“I don’t want to leave you,” I groan against her chest. "But I have to go to work.”
She stretches out beside me, pulling the covers over us. “It’s okay. I’ll call Agatha or something. I have plenty to do.”
“Oh yeah? Name one thing.”
I catch her scrambling for a reply, and I grin. "We could walk around the mall or catch a movie," she says, clearly winging it. "Working my leg will help it heal faster."
I rub her back, loving the feel of her smooth skin. "You could... or we could stay here and play house."
She instantly tenses. I know I hit a nerve.
"I don’t want to play, Ry. We were supposed to spend an eternity together, and- "
"Infinity," I correct, moving to kneel between her legs. "We were supposed to spend infinity together. And we still are."
I took her trembling hands in mine.
"I still want all of you, Presley. I don’t give a shit who you fucked when I wasn’t there. You belong to me. You were born to be mine, my wife, the mother of my children, the beginning to my end. Nothing will take that away again."
“I- ”
“No," I cut her off gently. “I’m not finished.”
Tears shimmer in her eyes as I confess, “I fucking love you. I've never stopped. I want all your darkness, all your light… all of you.”
The guilt burns inside me, knowing I hadn’t been there when she needed me most. I wasn’t there when she lost our son.
“Baby,” I whisper, brushing the tears from her cheeks, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there, when he was growing inside you, when you delivered him, when you faced it all alone. I swear to you, you'll never be alone again. Only death will separate us.”
“Is that your idea of a proposal, Ry Ry?” she asks, her voice cracking with a bittersweet laugh.
“It’s an informal one. You’ll know when it’s the real thing.” I kiss her deeply. Even when she cries, she is the most beautiful girl in the world.
“I love you, Princess. This is us, picking up where we left off. Can you do that for me?”
She ducks her head, fidgeting nervously, talking to herself under her breath. Then, after a moment, she smiles so big it nearly breaks me. "I think I’d like that very much, Ry Ry.”
I chuckle, brushing a hand over her cheek. “You know, I hated that nickname at first.”
“You noticed I only called you that when you were a good boy, didn’t you?” she teases.
I hadn’t, but damn if it didn’t hit me now. “Yeah.”
“And you liked being good for me,” she teases again, making my throat tighten.
“I love it,” I admit.
“Good. Because I love you, too. I never stopped. Even when you broke my heart.”
“There aren't enough words, or sorries, to erase what I did. But I’ll spend eternity trying.”
I roll out of bed, grabbing her hand. “C’mon, Princess. Let’s shower. Maybe you can come to work with me today.”
Her face lights up like Christmas morning. "Really? The boss won’t mind?"
I smirk. "It’s bring-your-woman-to-work day. And if the boss has a problem with it, he can fuck right off."
She giggles, music to my ears.
Presley picks out one of my T-shirts that practically swallows her whole, paired with tight jeans that show off her curves that have already started to fill out again. I could hardly keep my hands to myself as I guide her into the front seat of my truck.
"You're trouble," I mutter, brushing my hand over her thigh as I drive.
"You love it," she teases, sliding closer across the seat.
At the shop, I give her the grand tour, but it was clear she wasn’t really paying attention, too busy watching me like she was ready to pounce. Good thing the boys were out on jobs and wouldn’t be back for a while.
I lead her into my office, shutting the door behind us.
"You’ve got that look, Ry Ry," she says, backing toward the desk.
"What look?" I ask, stalking her slowly.
"The one that says you’re about to do something very, very bad."
I grin wickedly. "Princess, you have no idea." Before she can protest, I have her backed up against the desk, lifting her onto it in one fluid move, listening to her crutches clatter to the floor.
She squeals in surprise, laughing breathlessly. "Ry!"
"You wore those jeans just to torture me, didn’t you?" I growl, tugging at the waistband.
"Maybe," she says coyly, biting her lip.
"Take them off," I order, voice low and dangerous.
Her eyes widen, but she doesn’t hesitate. She shimmies out of her jeans, and I yank them off her lush hips, tossing them aside.
No panties.
I groan, palming myself through my jeans. "You trying to kill me, baby?"
"Not yet," she whispers.
I drop to my knees, spreading her thighs wide and pulling her to the edge of the desk.
"You’re fucking perfect," I mutter before diving in, feasting on her like a starving man.
She gasps, grabbing fistfuls of my hair, rocking her hips against my mouth. Her taste, her scent, it drives me fucking wild. "Ry… oh God… Ry!" she cries, thighs trembling as she comes against my tongue.
I stand up, licking my lips, savoring her. "You’re never leaving my side again, you hear me?"
She nods, dazed, reaching for my belt.
I help her, yanking my jeans and boxers down just enough to free my aching cock. I line up and push inside her in one hard thrust, burying myself to the hilt. "Fuck, Presley," I groan, gripping her hips, pounding into her with a desperation I couldn’t control. "You feel like fucking Heaven."
Her nails dig into my shoulders as she clings to me, her cries echoing off the office walls.
"Mine," I growl against her throat, biting down gently.
"Yours," she whimpers, tightening around me, pushing me closer to the edge.
"Come for me, Princess," I order, reaching between us to rub her clit.
She shatters with a scream, body convulsing around me. I follow with a roar, emptying myself deep inside her. Panting, I hold her tight, resting my forehead against hers.
"I’m never letting you go again," I whisper.
"You better not," she breathes, smiling up at me with tears in her eyes.
I kiss her fiercely, pouring everything I felt into it, the past, the future, the forever we are finally getting back.
We stay tangled up for a while, just breathing each other in.
Finally, Presley giggles, wrinkling her nose. "We probably can’t live in your office."
"Watch me," I mutter, still inside her, still not ready to let go.
She kisses the tip of my nose. "We should at least put pants on before someone walks in."
I groan dramatically but help her off the desk. She winces a little, her legs shaky, and I catch her before she stumbles.
"Careful, baby," I say, brushing my thumb over her flushed cheek.
"Blame yourself," she teases, digging around for her jeans. "You broke me."
"Gladly," I smirk, tucking myself back into my jeans.
She hops around, struggling to pull her tight pants up, and I can’t resist smacking her ass.She yelps, laughing. "You're impossible!"
"Yeah, but you love it," I say, pulling her in for another kiss, this one slow, sweet, filled with everything I hadn’t been able to say yet.
Right as she was giggling against my lips, we hear the front door open.
Voices.
Footsteps.
We freeze, eyes wide.
"Shit," Presley whispers, hurriedly yanking her T-shirt down as if that would hide anything.
I grab her hand, dragging her toward the little side room for storage. We barely get the door shut when I hear Jase calling out:
"Yo, Rygaard! You here? Truck’s acting weird."
Presley clamps a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter, while I press her against the wall, grinning like an idiot.
‘That was close,’ she mouths.
I nod, heart still racing, not from getting caught, but from her . Always her.
After a few minutes, once the coast is clear, I kiss her forehead.
"Round two back at my place?" I murmur.
Her answering smile could’ve lit up the whole damn shop. "Only if you think you can keep up this time."
I growl, scooping her up, bridal style as she squeals. "Princess, you’re gonna be the one begging for mercy."
Presley
We barely make it through Rygaard’s front door before he has me pinned against it.
His mouth is everywhere, my throat, my jaw, the corner of my lips, greedy and wild like he is making up for lost time.
“Clothes. Off. Now,” he growls against my skin.
I barely get my shirt over my head before he’s tugging at my jeans, yanking them down with a roughness that makes my knees weak.I gasp when he drops to his knees in front of me.
“Fuck, look at you,” he mutters, voice wrecked. His hands grip my thighs hard enough to leave fingerprints as he shoves them apart. “You’re so fucking pretty, Presley.”
Then his mouth is on me, hot, filthy, devastating .
I cry out, grabbing his hair, shameless in the way I grind against his face. He moans like he loves it, like he is the one getting wrecked, and the vibrations send me spiraling.
“Rygaard, I- ” I gasp, but he just growls and pins me harder, dragging his tongue over me slow and deep until my legs buckle.
I come undone against his mouth, shaking and whimpering, and he only pulls back when I physically push at his shoulders.
When he stands, his mouth glistens. He wipes it with the back of his hand, smirking darkly.
"Not even close to done with you."
He spins me around, pressing my front against the door, and nudges my legs apart.I feel him line himself up, his cock thick and hot against my entrance, but he doesn’t push in, not yet.
He leans over, his breath hot in my ear. "You want it rough, baby?" he rasps. "Want me to ruin you?"
I whimper, nodding desperately.
"Use your words," he says, nipping at my neck. "Tell me what you want."
"I want you," I gasp. "Hard. Please. "
That is all he needs.
He slams into me in one deep, brutal thrust, and I cry out, clawing at the door. He sets a punishing rhythm, fucking me like he can’t get deep enough, rough and relentless, one hand tangles in my hair, the other gripping my hip hard enough to bruise.
"You feel so good," he grits out. "So tight for me."
I am babbling, incoherent, every thrust knocking the breath out of me. I don’t even realize I’m crying until he leans down, licking a stray tear off my cheek.
"Too much?" he whispers, still driving into me.
"Don’t you dare stop," I sob, pushing back against him.
He curses, voice breaking and reaches around to rub tight circles over my clit. That’s it, I shatter around him, crying out his name like a prayer. He follows me a second later, hips stuttering, groaning my name into my skin as he comes hard, deep inside me.
For a while, we just stand there, pressed together, sweaty and trembling, trying to breathe.
Finally, he kisses my shoulder and whispers, "You’re mine, Presley. You hear me?"
"Always," I whisper back, not even thinking, just knowing .
Rygaard stays inside me for a moment longer, like he can’t bear to let go. Then, with a soft groan, he pulls out and catches me before I can collapse against the door. “Hey, hey. I’ve got you.” His voice is low, wrecked and tender.
He scoops me up like I weigh nothing, carrying me through the house.Every step jostles me, sore and overstimulated, but tucked against his chest, I feel... protected. Cherished.
He nudges open his bedroom door with his foot and lays me down on the bed like I am something breakable.The loss of his warmth makes me whimper.
Rygaard brushes sweaty hair off my forehead, pressing a kiss there. “I’m gonna clean you up, okay, baby?” I nod, too blissed out to speak.
He disappears into the bathroom, and I hear the sink running. A minute later, he comes back with a warm, damp towel.
The gentleness he handles me with makes my chest ache.
He cleans between my thighs with slow, careful strokes, murmuring soft apologies when I flinch.
“You’re perfect," he whispers. "So fucking perfect."
When he’s done, he tosses the towel aside and climbs into bed beside me, pulling me into his arms.
I curl into him without thinking, tucking my face against his throat.His skin is still damp with sweat, his heartbeat a hard, steady thump under my palm.
He kisses the top of my head, his hand running up and down my spine in slow, soothing strokes.
We stay like that, tangled together, skin on skin, hearts still racing.
“You okay?” he asks after a while, voice rough.
I lift my head just enough to meet his eyes. The raw tenderness there nearly undoes me all over again. “I’m better than okay,” I whisper, smiling sleepily. “I’m yours.”
His whole body shudders like I’d just tore him apart in the best way.He drags me closer, his forehead pressing to mine.
“Mine,” he echoes. “Always.”