Chapter 33
Violet
I thought he was going to kiss me again, but he didn’t.
I wasn’t sure if I was relieved… or disappointed.
“What are you doing?” I asked when he reached for the bottom of his shirt, tugging it off to reveal his chest, each ridge carved muscle. My eyes immediately snapped to his, refusing to acknowledge that I was looking.
“We’re covered in blood,” he said with a shrug, no hint of his usual sardonic and taunting smirk.
Still looking at me, he unfastened his jeans, and I stilled when he slowly pushed them down his legs. I’d seen Ryder without his shirt a few times, and obviously I’d seen his dick. But I’d never actually seen him entirely naked.
It should be illegal, because no man had the right to look like something carved by the gods. And he knew it, too. He was sculpted muscle wrapped in dangerous ink, the kind of canvas that I ached to paint.
I didn’t even realise the shower was on, unable to look away as Ryder tipped his head back slightly, the water cascading down his body as if it were choreographed. His hands moved methodically, soap and water chasing the remnants of blood from his skin as he watched me through slitted eyes.
I couldn’t look away, my fingers clamped so tightly against the counter it pressed into my grazed skin. His hand, big and veiny, moved down, the bubbles following before they were quickly washed away.
Ryder’s eyes darkened when he gripped between his thighs.“So you’re just going to stay bloody, or what?” he asked, the words edged with challenge.
Heat pooled low in my belly, sharp and unexpected, curling around my hesitation like smoke.
I knew what he wanted; the way he said it was almost like a dare.
My eyes flicked back to his hand, fingers wrapped around the thick length of him, the silver glint of his piercing catching the low light as he stroked himself, slow and shameless. The sight sent a fresh wave of heat crashing through me.
Ryder raised a brow, lips twitching with something between amusement and warning. Not impatient.
Just… waiting. Like he knew I would come.
He was the most infuriating man I’d ever met, annoying, and so casually immoral it should have sent me running. It should terrify me.
So why did it feel like I was burning?
This was wrong.
He was wrong.
And yet I jumped off the counter, slipping my dress off my shoulders and letting it pool at my feet before closing the distance until I was under the spray.
“Place your hands on the wall,” he demanded, and I followed the order, turning until I faced the tiles.
The chill bit into my palms, but it was nothing compared to the warmth of the water and the searing heat of Ryder behind me. There was something almost cathartic in the way it all collided… the sting of heat, the rush of cold, and the unspoken thing pulsing in the space between us.
Something soft brushed my shoulder, and I shivered despite the steam curling around us. Ryder was washing me, slow and deliberate. My breath caught, and my fingers curled tighter against the slick tiles.
His strokes were gentle, hands shaping me as his fingers glided over my ribs, reaching higher until he teased across my breasts and my pulse staggered.
“Such a pain in my arse,” he whispered, his breath warm against my shoulder, just above my birthmark.
I opened my mouth to argue, but the words died when he began to undo my braid, his fingers working carefully through the tangles. He reached for the shampoo, lathering it gently into my scalp before dragging it through my hair in slow, deliberate tugs.
A low shiver rippled down my spine.
“Lean back,” he instructed, his tone quiet but firm. “Don’t move your hands.”
I complied, and Ryder let out a low groan, the shower quickly washing away the bubbles and debris before he began to apply the conditioner.
I’ve never had anyone wash my hair before.
It was intimate. Disarming.
Nice…
“Have I told you how much I love your hair?” he whispered, rinsing the last of the conditioner before grabbing the heavy strands in his hand, wrapping them into a slow, deliberate fist at the nape of my neck. “It’s so great to hold on to.”
I swallowed the sound that threatened to escape, ashamed of how easily he could unravel me. He hadn’t even really touched me, yet every inch of me felt alive, strung taut with need.
“This doesn’t mean anything,” I whispered, using his presence to anchor myself to right now rather than dwell on the what if. That was Ryder’s superpower, the way he could silence everything inside my head until the only thing that existed was him.
His laugh echoed around me, husky and dark before his grip on my hair tightened just slightly, lips brushing the shell of my ear. “If you’re trying to convince yourself, you should at least try to sound convincing.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
“You’re the one trembling, blondie. Not me. You see, I know exactly what this is… and what it isn’t. But I also know I can make you come so hard you’ll forget your own name.”
My pulse spiked. “You’re delusional.”
His free hand spread my thighs, angling me forward until I could feel his cock slipping between, and I hated the way my breath caught. How I had to fight the moan crawling up my throat as his piercing grazed against my clit.
“You want me to stop?” he asked quietly, and I hesitated, caught between reason and want, between everything screaming that this was a bad idea… and the part of me that didn’t seem to care. He chuckled darkly. “That’s what I thought.”
“Ryder…” I whispered, but again, I wasn’t sure what I was asking.
He shifted his hips, the heavy heat of him sliding deliberately against me, slow, teasing until he pressed right where I was aching. “You say you don’t want this… but you’re soaked.”
“You’re insufferable.”
“And you’re still standing here.” His fist in my hair pulled my head back, curving my spine at the same time he flexed his hips—
And finally thrust inside me.
The sharp sting at my scalp, paired with the deep, aching stretch, tore a cry from my throat, and Ryder groaned.
“Fuck, you’re killing me here.”
He shifted back, and the ache of his loss was immediate before he thrust forward again, this time sinking even deeper.
“Look how well you’re taking me,” he growled, waiting for me to stretch around his size. His piercing was cooler than my skin, stroking my inner walls in a way I’d never experienced before. “Such a good girl.”
If Ryder didn’t have a fist in my hair, I was pretty sure I would’ve collapsed, every part of my body aching, desperate for release.
My clit throbbed as I felt his cock pulse inside me, impatient.
On instinct, I tightened around him, a silent, breathless plea for him to stop teasing and just finish what he started.
He exhaled something close to a growl, and then without warning he pulled out, only to drive forward in one, hard, punishing motion. I gasped, eyes squeezing shut as the sensation hit me like a wave, every nerve ending lit up and raw.
Fuck!
He moved with a relentless rhythm, each motion deliberate, precise, almost punishing in its control. My release hit hard, fierce enough to steal my voice and leave me shaking and raw. I pulsed around him, Ryder continuing to move, drawing out the pleasure until it bordered on pain.
And he hadn’t even touched my clit.
Fucking hell.
Ryder chuckled, as if aware of precisely how he was affecting me, his hand releasing my hair only to push me forward. I cried out, the angle forcing me to take him deeper.
“Such a needy little cunt,” he whispered, his fingers reaching down to finally stroke against my clit, and I was gone.
This time I couldn’t hold it back, my second orgasm surging through me with the force of a hurricane. Not even the water could drown out my scream, my body convulsing as Ryder finally groaned, pulling out until I felt the hot jets of his cum on my skin.
I collapsed against the cool tiles, my legs shaking, my breath coming in jagged, uneven bursts. My body was trembling, wrecked in the best and worst ways, and then Ryder leaned in, his breath hot against my ear.
“See? Told you I’d make you forget your own name.”