Chapter 25

Ryker

I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place. My fucking head is pounding. My stomach's in knots.

"How do you know Knox?"

Tara's question comes out of left field. It takes me a minute for my brain to make my mouth function while I drive us back to the Monarch. "He's an old friend."

"Like Dmitri?"

She's too nosy. I hate it. Ignoring her prying questions, I focus on the road ahead of me. Not just the asphalt and red lights, but my future. I don't have endless money. It took me years to build the Monarch and the cash I've set aside has now been wiped clean—thanks to the apartment building going up for sale, and the bid I put on this woman who drives me insane.

"If you need permits pulled fast, I know someone," she says.

I'm not taking her bait. It's a lie to get me to open up so she can learn shit about me. There's no reason for that level of bonding between us. I'm her Dom. She can bond with my dick and aftercare. Not my future, and sure as shit, not my past. "He'll handle it."

Turning right, I step on the gas and weave through traffic. The sooner I'm back in my own space, the better.

"I didn't realize there was a speakeasy in that club," she says. "It's leaps and bounds better underground than it is above. Why didn't he renovate that first, then work on the basement as a bonus?"

Gritting my teeth, I don't answer her.

"You know, if you—"

"Since you like using your mouth so much, how about I give it something more to do besides spew bullshit no one wants to hear, Butterfly?" My heart pounds in my chest and I feel sick talking to her like this. But I need to think, and she needs to shut up. I unbuckle my seatbelt and pull out my dick. "Stuff my cock in your mouth."

"You're joking."

The hell I am. Swerving in and out of traffic, I'm only a couple blocks away from the club and she's yet to follow my orders. "Butterfly, your defiance in the club is already going to cost you. Want to keep racking up the penalties?"

"Racking up the penalties?" She has the nerve to laugh. And I do mean this woman tips her head back and cackles. "This isn't a hockey game. And if we're racking up punishments, you'll be getting your own fair share when we get back to the suite, Sir."

My dick turns hard as iron.

I slam on the brakes before accidentally running a red light. We both pitch forward, and she yelps in surprise. But not me. I'm speechless. How the hell can this woman turn me upside down all the time?

Glowering at her, I can't decide if I want to kiss her or kick her out of my fucking car. It pisses me off. And even though she has every right to say what she's saying—because I'll also admit I'm being a grade A asshole here—it makes me see red.

She's not at all intimidated by me.

God, this woman has a spine made of steel.

Unfazed, Tara maintains eye contact with me while I'm mentally locking down my fortress and putting my temper back on a short leash. I have no right to speak to her the way I have. No right to treat her the way I have either. The Dom/sub dynamic was never to be taken outside of the Monarch. In Knox's club, I humiliated her and made her serve us like she was there for our bidding, which isn't true at all.

The crazy part is, I think she fucking liked it.

And damn me straight to hell, because so did I.

Tara's right. If anyone deserves to be punished, it's me for my repulsive behavior. I have no excuse for my actions. I can't explain to her why I act certain ways sometimes. I can't tell her that I'm almost positive Knox will lose his business and that it terrifies me. I can't tell her that Greene Street is my undoing. And I definitely can't tell her how jealous and possessive I felt when she crawled away to get us drinks and Knox gawked at her ass like he wanted a bite.

I brought her there because for her to come with me today, means I'll get to go with her to something later. But I didn't think Knox would disrespect her like that. I hope she didn't hear him talk about her ass. Fuck, if she did, she might have also heard my threat to him afterwards, and that will only give her leverage over me later.

She'll read into this. She'll think I care about her more than I really do.

BEEP!

The car behind us honks, jarring me out of my thoughts. "Shit." I step on the gas and bring my focus back to the road, where it belongs. Tara doesn't say another word for the rest of the ride. And when I park, she's out before I can get the car door for her. In fact, she marches to the back entrance of the Monarch and yanks that door open, too. Or tries, at least. "You need a key or a code," I grumble, ashamed of myself. I pull a key card from my wallet and hand it to her. "Keep it."

What the fuck am I doing giving her the keys to my kingdom like this?

Doesn't matter. I'd rather she have a way in and out than be a prisoner here. Besides, it's not forever, it's just for now. "Don't lose it."

She looks like she wants to slap me.

I kind of hope she does.

The door unlocks and I open it for her, just so she can storm inside and head back to her suite. Christ, she's sexy when she's mad. Her hips sway more when she's in a bad mood, too. My mouth waters at the fantasy of fucking every ounce of aggression out of her body and mine.

When we reach her suite, I'm still five steps behind her, slowly reeling in my thoughts and closing all the open tabs in my brain. Tara deserves a big fat apology, and that's all I should focus on right now. Knox's club can wait another day or two. Greene Street isn't until the end of the month. And Dmitri will understand if I lock myself in with my Butterfly for a while.

Tara opens her suite door, slips inside, and promptly slams it in my face. Then I hear it lock.

What. The. Fuck.

"Tara!" I slam the heel of my palm against the woodgrain.

"Leave me alone, Ryker."

God damnit. "Let me in."

"Fuck you."

I deserve this and so much more. "I'm sorry," I say, pressing my forehead against the door. "Please let me in." When she doesn't answer, I apologize three more times. Embarrassment heats my cheeks because I know this is all being caught on video. That means D and Vault will know I've acted out of line and they're going to give me shit for it, too.

As they should.

I'll suffer the consequences of my actions, but first I want to apologize to Tara the right way—face-to-face—not behind a god damned door.

Is she crying in there? Setting the room on fire? Watching TV? Taking a nap? Or is she pressed against the other side of this door, listening to me grovel? I could pull the surveillance app up on my phone and watch her from my cell, but I don't. I think knowing the truth will gut me no matter what she's doing in there.

An hour goes by, and I haven't budged or uttered another word. Then something in me breaks a little. Dropping my head in defeat, my arms braced against the doorjamb, my shoulders sag. "Tara, please."

She swings the door open, and a ragged breath rattles out of me. "I'm so—"

"That's not an apology. You better beg," she says, with her perfect plucked eyebrow arched.

I'm falling down a motherfucking rabbit hole. Rendered speechless, I take three tries to find my voice. "I'm sorry. Please, forgive me."

"On your knees, Ryker."

Anger flares in me, but I drop to the floor, anyway. "I'm sorry. Please forgive me."

She hugs herself even as she glowers down at me. "Sorry for what?"

"For being an asshole." Tara rolls her eyes and tries to shut the door in my face again, but I thrust my arm out, slamming my palm into it and knocking it wide open. "I'm sorry I snapped at you. I'm sorry I made you serve us at Knox's and made you crawl on that fucking floor. I'm sorry I told you to put your mouth to good use and suck my dick in the car."

"And?"

And? What the hell else did I do? What am I forgetting? "And…" At a loss, I stare at the floor and scramble to come up with what more I should apologize for.

"Say you're sorry for not letting me speak."

"I'm sorry for not letting you speak." Wait. What? "Butterfly, I didn't silence you."

"Yes, you did."

When I try to stand, she steps forward and shoves me back down. "Stay on your knees."

Now she's pushing it. "I didn't silence you, Tara."

"You did. When I tried to offer my help in the car regarding the permits, you cut me off and acted like the only thing I was good for was giving you road-head."

"I already apologized for that."

"Not properly, you haven't." She steps back and sweeps her hands. "You can come in. But you'll do it on your hands and knees."

"You want me to crawl like a fucking dog?"

She looks triumphantly down at me. "Well, since we're treating each other like animals who Sit when they're told to, and get drinks when they"re told to, I figure you can appreciate the art of obedience between a pet and their master."

Oh shit. I did tell her to do that back at Knox's, didn't I? And though the pet/Master dynamic is totally fine and a lot of fun, that wasn't something we discussed prior to my treating her that way. Fuuuuck. I've never botched a situation with a lover so badly in my life.

I crawl into her suite with my head down. If she wants me to bark, I will.

Tara shuts the door behind us, and I won't move from this point on the carpet until she tells me.

"Good boy."

The molten anger bubbling in my veins cools quickly when she sinks to her own knees in front of me.

"Look at me, Ryker."

God, my name on her lips brings me peace when I deserve torment.

Our gazes lock, and that's when real shame hits me like a sledgehammer. I've been a piece of shit to her this whole time. No amount of pleasure I've given her was because I wanted to please her. It was to pacify her. To distract her. To relieve some of the pressure from my own body, not hers.

"Tara." I reach up to cup her cheek, but she shies away from my touch. Jesus, I have a lot of work to do if she's already flinching away from me. "I'm so fucking sorry for my behavior. Everything I've done with you, since the minute we made our first deal, has been one-sided, petty, and unfair."

She gasps, clearly not expecting me to say that.

"I understand if you want to get a new Dom. Shit, I'll understand if you want to call this whole thing off and walk away from the club entirely."

Her soft eyes harden again. "Is that why you've done all this? You think it's going to make me walk away from you?"

Time to be brutally honest. "Yes."

Because even though I let her in a little, I have got to shove her out. She doesn't belong in my world. She's too good for it. Too sweet.

I don't deserve her.

And that means I'll drive her out by any means necessary. She told me she didn't know her hard limits the night we first started this tryst, but I definitely have mine. I can't let her in. I can't keep her. And if there's even the smallest chance that my last, and strongest demon, discovers that she likes certain kinks…

There will be no saving either of us.

Tara laughs. "You'll have to try a lot harder than that if you want to run me off, Mr. Hudson. I'm not easily intimidated."

Tell me about it. And I think that's one of the main reasons I'm so drawn to her. It would take a special kind of woman to be with a mongrel like me.

"You're a smart woman, Tara. A smart woman would run from me."

"Well, I must be an idiot because I'm staying."

I tip my head back and sigh. "You have no idea what you make me feel like."

"Explain it to me then."

"Obsessed." My dark gaze latches onto her bright blues. "I have to shove you out because if you stay…" I shake my head. "I won't let you go." I crawl closer to her. "But I'm stuck, because if I let you go, you'll fuck someone else." I pinch her chin. "I will commit unforgivable crimes if another person touches your sweet body." I lean in, almost brushing my mouth against hers. "I hate that you like to be humiliated, because I very much like to humiliate you." I move over and kiss her jaw. "And I hate that you like to be my good girl, because it makes me want to spoil you." I nip her earlobe. "I hate that everything I do, you take, and it makes me crazy for you."

Her breaths quicken as she presses her hands on my shoulders. "I'll be your good girl, Mr. Hudson. And I'll be your naughty brat too." She swallows hard. "I love being your fucktoy, Sir."

If she's trying to get me to snap, it's working. "Tara," I warn her. "You're playing with fire, woman."

"No, Mr. Hudson." She stands up and heads over to the collection of whips kept at her disposal. "You're the one playing with fire." She plucks a large flogger from the collection and runs her fingers through the tassels. "And I want to know how hot you like to burn."

A smile spreads across my face. "Do your worst, Butterfly."

Because I'll certainly do mine.