Chapter 41

Ryker

I'm not leaving Tara, even though there are a million things that need to be done. It's late, the club is packed, and I feel guilty for staying locked in this room with my gorgeous woman, while my staff are busting their asses downstairs.

Christ, I'm so attached to her, someone will have to dismember me if they want to pry me off my girl.

Running a hand over the slope of her hip, I love how soft Tara is. How pristine. How opposite of me. I'm a canvas of fuckups, scars, and ink. She's a blank canvas. I'm all hard, rigid lines. She's soft curves and dips. I'm a razor. She's a rose petal.

Peppering her arm with tiny kisses, I stroke her thighs, sweeping my hand down between her legs to see if she'll open for me. Her thighs spread, and she rolls onto her back in her sleep. "Mmm."

"Shhhh." I crawl on top of her, kissing her neck, collarbone, left nipple, and work my way down until I reach her pussy. She takes deep, even breaths as I sink my finger into her pussy. Her body instantly grips my digit, and she moans again. Her body wants me even while she's dead to the world.

I flick my tongue against her clit like a deviant.

Tara sucks in a breath before sinking into a deeper sleep. Her breaths are even and heavy.

I lie to myself and say I just need a taste. That's what addicts do, right? Lie and bullshit about their actual intentions? Tara's my motherfucking drug, and I'll happily overdose on her.

Someone should cut my dick off for this.

I pull my belt off without waking her. Then I unzip my pants and shove them down to my knees. Kneeling between her legs, I grip my hard dick and stroke it.

She's so innocent. So pure. So perfect and whole. I want to feel those things too.

Just for a minute. A couple of strokes and that's it.

I push into her opening and realize it's a mistake to think I can ever willingly pull out. Out of her body. Out of her suite. Out of her life.

"Mmmph." Tara stirs in her sleep again.

"Shhhh," I bury myself balls-deep in her wet heat. "I just need to feel you, baby." Moving in and out slowly is torture. Watching the way her body wraps around mine, the glistening coat of her arousal on my dick, the smell of us together… Fuuuuck. "Just a little more." I keep my pace steady and slow, relishing how tight she is. How beautiful.

Her pussy clamps down on my cock, making me suck in a harsh breath through my clenched teeth.

"Ryker," Tara whispers.

"Shhhh," I shove into her again. "Just let me have you for a little longer."

Her eyes crack open, and she smiles. "You can have me for life."

My heart trips over itself. I shove into her harder, making her slide up the bed. "I can't get enough of you." My thrusts stay steady and slow, but they're harsher now. "I don't think I'll ever get enough of you, Tara."

Her head tips back, but she doesn't say anything else. Maybe she's fallen back asleep. I hope so. I don't think I'd have the balls to say all this if she was fully alert. "You're mine." Rubbing her clit with my thumb, reading her little cues that tell me if she's hurting or not. I'm scared to death that clamp on her clit might have bruised her earlier, but she truly seems okay. Thank fuck for small miracles.

"Feels… so good." Her back arches, but her arms remain limp by her side.

This woman is putty in my hands. I pleasure her until she comes. Her pussy clamps down on my dick and milks it with her orgasm. "Ffffuck," she squeaks in a sleepy haze.

"Remember this." My release forces the air from my lungs. "Remember who owns this fucking pussy." I grunt, emptying myself into her. "You're mine now."

No one will touch her after tonight. I made a statement carrying her through my club. Every member now knows who she belongs to.

Specifically, Blake Rittenhouse. That smug bastard doesn't have the balls to test my tolerance. I'll cut his throat if he tries.

Pulling out, I shove my finger in her pussy like a plug. "That's my good girl." I kiss her inner thigh. "You're so good to me, baby."

She stirs again and I look up to see her catching me with my hand caught in her cookie jar. "Get back inside me," she whispers. "I want your dick in me while I sleep."

She's got to be kidding.

Joke or not, I'm going to fucking do it. Sliding against her back, I roll Tara onto her side and drape her leg over my waist. Angling my cock at her entrance, Tara scoots closer and impales herself on me. "Shhh," she says, kissing my forehead. "Go to sleep."

???

My dreams are fractured and confusing. When I wake up, reaching for Tara, the last of my nightmares blow into snowflakes that freeze my heart. "Tara?" She's not here. Ripping the covers off me, I march into the bathroom and flick on the lights. "Tara?" She's not here either. Rushing across the room, I check the closet, the sofa, even under the fucking bed. "TARA!"

Snagging my cell, I quickly dial D's number. He doesn't answer. Shit. I snag my pants off the floor and start stuffing my legs in them when my cell goes off. "Tara's gone."

"I'm in your office," she responds on the other end of the line.

With my heart in my throat, I stare up at the surveillance camera in the corner of our suite. "You're in my office?"

"Yes."

"Alone?"

"No. Dmitri's here too."

I shove my finger at the camera. "Don't you fucking move." Rushing out of the suite, my vision blurs because of how tired I still am. What the fuck even time is it? The club's quiet, so it's after hours. A maid is vacuuming at the other end of the hallway and I almost trip over the cord as I beeline for the elevator.

Calm down. She's in your office. It's fine. She didn't leave. She's not gone.

If this is what it'll be like to wake up without Tara at the end of the month, I won't survive it.

Storming down the hall, I shove my way through the door and stop dead in my tracks.

Tara's in my chair, a pencil holding her hair in a knot on the top of her head. "Good morning, sleepyhead." She beams me a smile full of sunshine.

The place smells like female and coffee. "You scared the fuck out of me."

"I wanted to give you space. You needed sleep, and I was too restless to stay still." Tara taps my monitor. "I was totally watching you like a creeper, too. You're sexy when you sleep."

Flattery will get her everywhere with me.

And now that I'm back in her orbit, my heart settles and panic lessens. "How long have you been up here?"

"Mmm." She looks at the clock on her laptop. "Only two hours. Dmitri brought me coffee and breakfast."

I'm both jealous and grateful he took care of my girl. I'd thank him if he hadn't already slipped out of here. "Why couldn't you sleep?"

"My head's too buzzy." She shrugs. "I just need to finish what I started, so it's really over."

There's a resignation letter on the screen. Kudos to her for having the spine to stick to her threats. "You're really quitting?"

"I never wanted to be in realty, anyway. I only did it to make my mom and William happy." She hits a button and the document closes. "It's time to be me."

God damn, I'm so fucking proud of her.

"What are you going to do now?" Whatever it is, I'll help her.

"I don't know, honestly." Tara leans back and takes a sip of her coffee. "I might just take a break. I have money saved, so my bills won't be an issue for a while."

I'll make sure they aren't. I'm not too worried about her making ends meet, though. Getting a new job won't be a problem for her. Tara's smart as a whip and hard working. Any company would be lucky to have her.

Tara's fingers start flying across the keyboard, her brow knitted with concentration. "Annnnd…" She taps the mouse. "Done."

She's sent the letter. I can only imagine the fallout.

"I'm really proud of you," I say, kissing her head.

"Same." Tara runs her nails up my forearm. "So, what should we do today?"

"Whatever you want, Butterfly." The rooms are open and at her disposal. "Paddles. Whips. Chains. Hot wax."

"Whoa," she laughs. "You've been holding out on me, Mr. Hudson."

Yeah, I have. In so many ways. "I won't anymore."

"Good." She drops her laptop in the trashcan. "How about we start with a walk first? I want a clear mind before you blow me to pieces with that big dick of yours again."

God damn, I love this woman. Grabbing her hand, I pull her out of my chair. "Come on, Butterfly. I know the perfect place."