Chapter 65
RYKER
Six weeks felt like a decade.
The appointment had come through an unknown number.
A time. An address. The Pied Piper’s chain, not mine.
The appointment was brief. Clinical. A blood draw.
A physical confirmation by a doctor who never even looked me in the face.
He was the Pied Piper’s man through and through.
He made a note on a form I never got to read and left the room without a word.
The results went to PP before they went to me. Of course they did.
When the confirmation came back cleared, I didn’t feel relief. I felt the door close for the last time. Quiet and final, the way permanent things always are.
A single message from a blocked number landed on my phone.
Unknown:
TERMS MET.
I deleted it without responding. He didn’t deserve one.
For the first time since Nate and I had both been home, he’d pushed Sloane and me out the door. Go on a date, he’d said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Like he hadn’t just given me exactly what I needed without knowing the half of it.
I had one place in mind.
My place. A day alone. No hospital smell lingering in the seams. No footsteps in the kitchen. No cabinets or dishes making noise. Only Sloane and me, and the kind of quiet that made room for things I’d been holding back.
Six weeks of not touching her the way I wanted to.
Six weeks of her hands on me in careful, tending ways that weren’t about desire.
I’d wanted her every day of it. And every day I’d carried something else too—the quiet fear that what they’d taken had changed something fundamental.
That wanting her wouldn’t feel the same. That I wouldn’t feel the same.
We parked in the driveway, and I didn’t even let her reach the front step before I reached for her waist. I pulled her in, mouth on hers, slow at first, then deeper when she opened for me. I tasted her like I’d been starving.
She tipped her face up, fingers sliding over my jaw, the corner of her mouth lifting.
“Are you ready?”
“Yeah?” My lips stayed close enough to steal the next breath she tried to take. “More than ready.”
She didn’t hesitate when her hand stroked me through my jeans. Didn’t pause. Didn’t make me feel altered or inspected. She touched me like I was still exactly what she wanted. No hesitation. No sweetness. Just ownership.
A rough laugh scraped out of me.
“A day alone,” she murmured, as if she was confirming it for herself.
“A full day alone.” I reached behind us, unlocked the door, and backed her into the entryway without breaking eye contact.
The house was still. The curtains open with sunlight pouring across the hardwood. Anybody with a reason to look could see straight into my living room.
That thought should have made me close the curtains.
It didn’t.
Sloane looked past my shoulder, taking in the open windows, the brightness, the exposure. Then she looked back at me, calm and unbothered, and something in my chest went tight and hot.
I shut the door and locked it. The click was sharp in the quiet.
My hand stayed on her throat, holding her there while I slide my other hand under her hair and gripped.
“Shoes off,” I told her.
She did it. No hurry. No performance. Just obedience.
I walked her deeper into the house, palm firm at her back, steering. The living room mirror caught us as we passed, tall and clean, reflecting the whole scene with brutal honesty. Her. Me. The light. The fact that I didn’t care who might see me fucking her through the glass.
I stopped in front of it and turned her to the mirror.
Sloane didn’t look at herself. She looked at me in the reflection.
I opened the hallway closet and took out the leather cuffs, dark and simple. I’d put them away a while ago, but I hadn’t forgotten where they were.
When I stepped back into view, her attention dropped to my hands, then rose again, steady.
“Hands behind you.” I caught her wrists and pulled them back, higher than comfortable, exactly where I wanted them. She didn’t fight it. She didn’t soften for it, either. Her shoulders stayed squared, chin lifted, pulse jumping beneath my thumb when I pressed there.
The cuffs closed around her wrists. One. Then the other. The lock clicked. In the mirror, her lips parted.
I leaned in behind her and brought my mouth to the side of her neck, teeth scraping first, then a slow drag of my tongue that promised worse.
Her eyes stayed on mine in the glass.
I slid my hand down her stomach and pinned her there with my palm, holding her still when her body tried to press back against me.
“Watch,” I murmured against her skin.
Her breath hitched.
I tipped her head slightly to the side with my grip in her hair, exposing more of her throat, making the angle perfect. Then I started to walk her backward, using the cuffs as a handle, turning her from the mirror toward the couch.
Not rushing.
Not gentle.
Just inevitable.
I smiled against her skin.
I led her to the couch but left her standing.
I flicked open the buttons on her shirt one at a time, her black lace bra peeking between the parted material.
With one finger, I opened the front clasp and slowly moved the material away from her tits.
I lowered my head, taking one hard nipple between my teeth.
She arched her back and a soft moan escaped her.
“It’s been too long, Ryker.”
Since I was an equal opportunist, I focused on her other breast, teasing and nipping.
My hands were busy undoing her jeans and zipper.
I slid her clothes over her hips and down to the floor.
I helped her step out and then I parted her legs, licking and biting the inside of her thighs as I worked up to her bare pussy.
“Is your cunt ready for me, little fox?”
“Yeah.”
I looked up at her as I parted her lips and ran my tongue along her clit and sucked. Gripping her hips, I turned her away from me, then bent her over the couch. She laid her head on the back as I spread her legs, allowing me better access. Her pussy was wet and swollen.
“I can’t wait to fuck you, little fox. Bury my cock inside you until I give you permission to come on me.”
I flicked her clit with the tip of my tongue before I sucked harder.
“Don’t stop,” she breathed. “Please don’t stop.”
I pushed her thighs wider, knees pressed to the cushions, so I could see every slick, desperate inch of her.
I liked her like this—cuffed, head turned so she could still see me in the window reflection, her expression twisted with want.
My little fox had missed this, and I could taste it on her skin.
I started slow: mouth on her cunt, tongue flat and heavy, dragging up through the wetness. She trembled, breath stuttering, a ripple of sound escaping her that I swallowed and wanted more of. My hand came up, fingers digging into her ass to keep her in place when she bucked back.
“Don’t move,” I said, then licked her again, slower, teasing the swollen edges, circling her clit with the tip of my tongue until she whimpered. I slid a finger inside her, curving it, feeling the muscles squeeze tight around me.
“Fuck, Ryker.” She gasped. “Please—”
“Please what?” I wanted her to say it. I wanted her to admit how badly she needed this, needed me.
“You know.” Her hips rocked despite my grip.
“Yeah, I do.” I added another finger, stretching her. I kept my face buried in her, inhaling her scent, licking up everything she gave me.
Her juices were dripping down my hand, a sheen of slick coating my fingers, smearing down my wrist as I pumped them in and out. I licked her, again and again, then sucked her clit so hard she cried out.
I could have kept her like this for hours, watched her squirm and beg, but I had other plans, and my dick was already throbbing so hard it hurt.
“Are you ready to come for me?” I asked, licking up the side of her cunt, slow and steady, to keep her right on the edge. “Want to soak my fucking face, Sloane?”
“God, yes. Please. Please let me—”
“Not yet,” I whispered, then bit her inner thigh, leaving a perfect imprint of my teeth. She gasped, clenched around my fingers so tight I almost lost circulation. “Hold it, little fox. I want to feel you come all over my cock later.”
I stood and wiped her juices off my mouth with the back of my hand. I brought her upright by the cuffs, turning her toward me. “Get on your knees.”
She dropped, lips parted.
I wrapped a fist at the base and let her stare for a beat, remembering the first time she’d looked at me like that—hungry, reverent, shocked by her own need. That look never got old.
I slid the head against her mouth, smearing precum over her lips, and she opened, tongue out. I pushed in, not gentle, not careful. She gagged once and looked up at me, watery-eyed.
“Good girl.”
She hummed around my cock, and that sensation went straight up my spine.
I held her head with one hand, guiding her, setting the pace.
She kept her eyes on me, even when I fucked deeper, even when I hit the back of her throat, even when her cheeks flushed, and her breath hitched in her nose.
Heat zipped up my spine, but I didn’t stop.
I wanted her to feel the aftereffects of me fucking her mouth for the next few days.
Every time her jaw ached, I wanted her to remember this moment.
Her hot mouth sucked as her tongue worked around the head of my cock, until I couldn’t take anymore. I pulled out, my breathing heavy with the effort of not coming all over her pretty face.
With my fingers still in her hair, I guided her to her feet, then turned her over the couch again.
She looked at me in the glass, lips parted, hair wild around her shoulders. I bent and pressed my mouth to her ear. “You want this dick?”
She nodded, frantic.
“Say it.”
“I want your cock, Ryker. I want you to fuck me. Please—”
I drove in with one hard thrust. She cried out, back arching. The cuffs held her arms tight behind her, and she couldn’t do a damn thing but take it.