Chapter 44 Ryder
Ryder
Violet was my personal heaven and hell. Her cunt strangled me, dragging every last shred of control from my body. And those soft, broken whimpers she made? They didn’t make me want to stop. They made me want to go harder, deeper, until she forgot anything existed beyond me. Until she forgave me.
My chest burned with every breath, my rhythm harsh, almost brutal before I pulled out of her, only to spit once more on her other hole. She tensed but didn’t protest when I teased a second finger.
“Tell me, has anyone ever touched you here?” I asked, stretching her slowly as she whimpered. “I bet they haven’t.”
She turned her head, flushed and trembling, her hair tangled across her face.
“You’ve always gone for the good guys,” I said quietly, leaning closer, using her own arousal to stretch her slowly on a third finger.
“The ones who whisper sweet things in your ear and keep everything nice and gentle. Polite. Missionary.” My voice dropped, rougher.
“But you’re going to let me fuck you here, aren’t you?
Claim the last hole you’ve been saving for me. ”
Violet panted, her eyes glassy with tears.
A strange need burned behind my ribs at the sight.
She was mine, whether she admitted it yet or not.
Her cunt welcomed me when I thrust inside, so harsh she gasped, only for me to wrap her hair back in my fist and arch her back as much as her restraints would allow.
Her breath panted across my face, body trembling as I eased my aching cock out of her wet heat, only to place it where my fingers had just been.
She whimpered as I stretched her last hole, moving slowly so as not to hurt her.
Christ. Her tears, her moans, the way her arms stretched and tied against the bed was driving me straight to the edge. She looked like temptation made flesh, and it was enough to drive a man insane.
And still, I wanted more.
“Kiss me,” she begged, and I snapped.
I thrust until she took every inch and then caught her cry with my lips. She tasted of salt and sin. Tasted like my fucking damnation.
Her mouth parted beneath mine, and I deepened the kiss like a man starved. My tongue slid against hers, demanding she give me everything. She whimpered, fingers clawing at the fabric around her wrists as if she needed to touch me. But I wouldn’t let her.
“Ryder,” she groaned, tugging at her restraints.
But I refused to give in. I couldn’t, not when my demons risked ruining it.
“What a good girl, taking every inch,” I mused, half to distract her, half because I couldn’t help myself. It amused me how easily I could read her body, even when taking her back hole. Her cries when I hit the right spot, and the way she clenched around me like she never wanted to let go.
This time, I didn’t pull out, driving into her, my finger circling her clit with slow, merciless pressure so she’d fracture into a million pieces that only I could put together.
“Come for me,” I growled against her lips, her entire body tensing as if she’d been struck by lightning.
A strangled cry escaped her throat, and I caught it with my mouth, kissing her through the storm as I kept thrusting, my body bent over hers. I didn’t care that she’d soaked us both, her cum and arousal dripping down our thighs. It was evidence of just how hard she’d come for me.
The smell of sex clung to the air, thick and intoxicating. She was still trembling beneath me, wrecked and open. I didn’t stop moving, not when she started shaking, not even when she came again, harder, tighter, her arse strangling my cock until the pressure bordered on pain.
“Fuck,” I groaned as I came, thick ropes spilling inside of her.
Easing back slowly, I watched my cum spill out over her creamy skin, and it did something to me. Something dark. Something possessive.
Jesus Christ.
What was she doing to me?
Using my T-shirt, I cleaned us both before releasing her wrists. My thumbs brushed over the skin to check for any bruises, only satisfied when I knew the marks would fade.
You see, this was the point where I’d usually untie my willing partners and then leave so I could scrub my skin raw. But the idea of leaving right now left a strange hollowness in my stomach.
So instead, I did the unthinkable.
I stayed.
Violet watched me with those expressive eyes of hers, her pulse only just settling once I’d slipped into the sheets beside her. She didn’t protest when I pulled her against my side, and I went rigid. But she did immediately try to pull away.
“Don’t,” I whispered, the word strangled as I tried to release the pressure cinching tighter and tighter around my lungs.
The panic threatened to spiral, as did the need to shove away and scrub until it stung. Sex was different. There, I held the power. Always. I decided the position, the pace, even which part of her body I’d take. Every detail was mine to control.
But this… this was affection, and that was completely fucking foreign. Something I’d always considered pointless with the women I fucked.
But Violet was more, so for her, I had to try.
Tangling my slightly shaking fingers into her hair, I brushed through the strands with a tenderness I didn’t know I was capable of.
A cuddle, the entire concept alien and yes, it started off a little stiff.
I expected her to try and push me away again, or even comment with that wicked tongue of hers.
But she didn’t.
The first time it happened, I’d woken up in the middle of the night with her body curled into mine, my arms wrapped tightly around her. I hadn’t fallen asleep like that; in fact, I’d made sure there was a distinctive space between us.
But somehow, in sleep, my body had reached for hers anyway.
And… I hadn’t… hated it.
In fact, my cock had done a full salute, the hedonistic bastard.
I could see the wheels turning behind her eyes, even as she tried to hide it. “Why black and grey?” she asked, her voice that throaty post-sex husky that made my cock twitch, readying for round two.
“What?”
“Your tattoos,” she murmured, exhaustion softening her expression. “Why are they all black and grey?”
“I never saw the point of colour. Most of my tattoos weren’t chosen for the art,” I said quietly. “They were chosen to hide the worst scars.”
“I want to paint them,” she whispered, her eyes fluttering closed.
For a moment I thought she’d fallen asleep, until her fingers brushed my forearm, barely a touch, but I still stiffened before forcing myself to relax.
“Colour would look good on you,” she added quietly. “Something soft… something warm.”
I huffed a laugh despite myself, tightening my arms around her. “Soft and warm isn’t usually my thing.”
“Hmm,” Violet hummed, and I was one hundred percent smug at wearing her out when I knew she struggled to drift off. Her breathing slowed, finally giving into sleep, but I found myself awake, counting the freckles along the bridge of her nose and her shoulders.
This woman was tearing down every wall I’d spent years building, brick by careful brick.
And I was letting her.
I didn’t bother knocking, opening the door to Hendrix’s home office to find Roman standing over the desk.
“Good, you’re still here.” My fist connected with his face before he had the chance to flinch.
Roman didn’t even try to block. He either didn’t expect it or actually allowed me to land the blow. Knowing him, and the fact he fought in the underground rings because he found it fun, it was probably the latter.
“Stay the fuck away from Violet,” I snarled, ignoring the flicker of a smile at the corner of his lips.
“Ostav'te nas.” Roman glanced over my shoulder, and I turned to find Max with his pistol out, pointed straight at my head.
Leave us.
See? My Russian lessons were coming in handy.
“Knyaz’—”
“Smotri, chto ty delayesh', Maxim,” he snapped, and Max bowed his head hesitantly before turning to the door. Roman waited for it to click closed before returning his attention to me. “You’re lucky he didn’t shoot you.”
“I knew you wouldn’t let that happen,” I said, crossing my arms. “Tell me what happened with you and Violet.”
He arched a brow. “Sounds awfully like a demand, Ry.”
“Roman…” I growled.
“She came to me for protection.” A red welt was growing on his cheek, but he didn’t seem to even notice it. Which was rude because my knuckles hurt like fuck.
“What did you want in return?”
Roman tilted his head, leaning casually against the desk. “I asked her to marry me.”
The words hit like a punch to the gut. My vision edged red, my fist curling, ready to swing again.
“Hit me again,” Roman said evenly, “and I’ll hit back. She came to me, not the other way around. And if you want to start pointing fingers”—he paused, eyes narrowing—“the fake wife thing was your idea.”
“Don’t fucking test me, Rome,” I snarled. “She’s mine.”
“Holy shit,” he said with a humourless laugh. “Guess the great Ryder Finn actually has a heart after all.” He stepped forward, gripping my shoulder hard. “About time you started giving a damn about someone other than yourself.”
I shoved him off, dragging a hand down my face. Christ.
Normally, Roman was the one person I could tolerate in my space, but apparently, I was in the middle of some existential meltdown because the contact made my skin crawl. My chest felt tight, like I was suffocating.
“You’re so stuck in your own head, you never see the future,” he continued, dark green eyes holding mine. “You only do transitional relationships, Ryder. You chase the next payout like it’s going to fill the hole in you. It won’t. It never has. It’s time to grow up.”
I glared at my longest, soon-to-be ex friend.
“You don’t let anyone in.”
“I let you in,” I rasped.
“It’s not the same, Ry. You alienate yourself because you think it’s easier. Safer to be alone.”
It was way too early to be called out like this. Or too late. Hard to tell when exhaustion dragged so heavy across my shoulders I could barely think. All I wanted was to get back to Violet.
I scrubbed a hand over my face. “I’m out of my element here.”
Roman lifted a brow. “You hurt her.”
The words sank in, settling somewhere deep and unwelcome.
“And you’re going to fix it,” he added, leaning back. “Or you’re going to lose the first person who’s ever gotten under your skin.”
“What do you expect me to do? Beg for her forgiveness?” I stared at him, stomach twisting. “I don’t do begging.”
“You also don’t do caring,” Roman shot back. “But here you are.”
“Shit. I really fucked up with her, Rome,” I said, my jaw clenched so hard it ached. “I don’t know what to do.” I wasn’t delusional enough to think a few orgasms was enough for her to forgive me.
“You grovel,” Roman said simply, clearly enjoying how off balance I was. “For once in your life, you stop running, and you fight for something that isn’t money.”