Chapter Eight #4
He lets out a low, guttural groan, his hips freezing against mine.
I feel the hot, pulsing rush of his cum spilling deep inside my gut, flooding me.
He holds himself buried inside me, his grip on my hair ruthless, his other hand returning to my hip and squeezing so hard I know I’ll have dark bruises there tomorrow.
My body gives out on me. The residual spasms of my climax fade into a dull, thrumming ache, and I go limp in the tangled sheets.
I’m boneless, my cheek resting against the damp fabric of the pillow, my lungs pulling in shallow, shaky breaths.
Cool air rushes over my sweat-slicked skin as Ryker pulls out of me with a wet sound, leaving a hollow ache in my gut that makes my hips twitch.
I expect him to bark another order, maybe tell me to get out of his bed or clean myself up.
Instead, the mattress dips. His hands slide under my arms and behind my knees.
Before I can try to coordinate my limbs to help him, he gathers me up off the bed.
I slump against his chest, too drained to protest as he carries me out of the bedroom and into his connected bathroom.
The glare of the vanity lights makes me squint.
I bury my face into his shoulder. He sets me down on my feet inside the glass shower enclosure, keeping a firm grip on my waist so my wobbly legs don’t fold under me.
He reaches past me to turn on the faucet.
Warm water rains down over us a second later, washing away the chill and the sticky mess clinging to my skin.
Ryker doesn’t say a word. He grabs a bottle of body wash, lathers up his palms, and starts washing me.
He scrubs the dried cum off my stomach and chest, his hands firm and thorough but nowhere near as rough as they were ten minutes ago.
His touch is surprisingly careful now. He runs soapy fingers down my thighs, washing the slick mixture of lube and sweat off my skin.
When he reaches between my legs, I flinch, expecting a sting, but he just cleans me gently, sweeping his hand over my sore hole without digging in.
It’s bizarre. The guy who just pinned me down and fucked me senseless is now carefully washing my hair, massaging shampoo into my scalp with strong fingers.
I close my eyes, leaning back against the cool tile wall, letting him take care of it.
I’m too tired to overthink it, too exhausted to worry about the power dynamics of letting another man bathe me.
Once the water runs clear and we’re both clean, he shuts off the faucet. He pulls a plush towel from the rack and wraps it around my shoulders, rubbing the terrycloth briskly over my back and arms. He dries himself off with a second towel, then tosses them both into a hamper in the corner.
“Back to bed,” Ryker says in a low, gravelly hum.
I don’t argue. I shuffle back into the dim bedroom, my muscles protesting the movement, and climb under the dark duvet. The sheets still smell faintly like the spicy scent of his cologne mixed with sex. A moment later, the mattress dips again. Ryker slides in behind me.
He doesn’t keep his distance. He closes the gap between us, throwing a muscular arm over my waist and pulling me back until my spine rests flush against his chest. His arm is a solid, grounding weight, pinning me firmly against him.
I let out a soft breath, my body relaxing into his hold.
He presses his face into my damp hair, his stubble scratching against the nape of my neck.
“You did well,” Ryker murmurs, his breath warm against my ear.
I swallow, a flush creeping up my neck at the praise. Coming from Ash or Aiden, a compliment feels friendly, encouraging. Coming from Ryker, it feels earned.
His hand slides down my stomach, his fingers coming to rest possessively over my hip bone. “You’re going to learn to ride my cock like the good little slut you are,” he adds, his voice dropping an octave, dark and filthy. “Soon enough, I won’t even have to tell you what to do. You’ll just know.”
A shiver runs down my spine. The dirty words stir something low and hot in my gut, a spark of desire flaring up despite how exhausted I’m feeling. I don’t pull away. I let my head drop back against his shoulder, letting him hold me.
It doesn’t make sense to my rational brain. This guy is demanding, unapologetic, and scary when he wants to be. He commands a room just by standing in it, and he breaks down every defense I have without a second thought. But lying here, pinned under his arm in the dark, I don’t feel unsafe.
Ash wasn’t wrong. Ryker pushes boundaries and demands obedience, but he also knows what he’s doing.
I’m not just a warm body to him. There’s a strange, possessive care in the way he anchors me against him, making sure I know I belong here in his bed.
It’s a vastly different kind of comfort than the soft patience Ash offered me, but it’s no less real.
I close my eyes, the steady beat of his heart thumping against my back, and let the exhaustion pull me under, feeling surprisingly settled in the dark.