“I’m yours,” I whisper. “All yours, Ryder. Use me. Fuck me. Hurt me. I don’t care. Just make me yours. Own me.”

“Fuck.” He lifts his hips again and again, his cock pushing, punishing me as the orgasm builds. Reaching higher, higher, until I whisper his name and he’s coming and I’m coming, our bodies moving together. He growls my name, making it sound like a curse, his hips brutal against my quivering body, his hand still around my neck, his breath hot against my ear. I slump against him as he braces me from behind and he releases his hold on my throat, his arm moving down to settle over my sex, where his cock is still buried inside me.

“Mine,” he whispers possessively, cupping me, his fingers curling around my clit and pinching it.

A shiver moves through me as I nod, turning my face into his so I can nuzzle him. Tears stream down my cheeks, one after the other, but I don’t want to tell him. I had no idea I was crying.

It’s not from sadness. Not really from happiness, either. It’s just … another form of release. One that he commanded from me so effortlessly, I didn’t even realize it was happening. “Yours,” I murmur against his skin, kissing him along his firm jaw. “All yours.”

Chapter Twenty-two

Ryder

I tried my best to break her but she wouldn’t break. She took everything I gave her. I hurt her. I practically choked her. I told her I was worthless and fucked her so deep she cried out in pain. I pinched and twisted her nipples, I gripped her ass until I’m sure bruises in the shape of my fingers will appear on those pretty, pale cheeks by tomorrow morning.

And still she wouldn’t give.

I even made her cry. She said nothing but I felt her tears, tasted them on her lips. Those goddamn tears almost broke me, but I kept it together. Said something filthy that made her pussy quiver around my cock and then I rolled her beneath me and pulled out of her body, tossing the used condom on the bedside table like some sort of inconsiderate asshole. I stroked myself, my cock still hard and full of come like I’d never even had that explosive orgasm in the first place.

She’s lying beneath me now, watching me with those big brown eyes, her skin covered in sweat, her hair damp and matted against her head. Her lips are puffy and swollen from my brutality and there’s a red mark on her left nipple from where I pinched her.

She’s fucking beautiful. And mine. I own her. I won’t give her up.

Pilar can go fuck herself.

“I want to taste you,” Violet says, reaching out to touch my dick, her fingers colliding with mine. I slow my pace, watch in fascination as she props herself up on her elbows and I feed my cock to her parted lips. They close over me, tight and warm, and my eyes shutter closed for the briefest moment as I let myself go and enjoy the sensation of her hot mouth surrounding my hard cock. And when she starts sucking and pulling, her fingers curling around the base, I’m done for.

Fucking done for.

I open my eyes and shove at her shoulder so she releases me from her mouth with a pop. “Lie down,” I demand, and she does as I say, always a good girl.

But now she’s my good girl.

Her eyes widen in fascination as she watches me bring myself to orgasm with my hand. My pace is rapid, my grip tight, and my focus zeroed in on her pretty tits, those puffy pink nipples hard and calling to me. I’m going to decorate them with my come; I’m going to mark her and make her mine in the most primitive way.

I can’t wait.

Pleasure races down my spine and settles in my balls. Building up almost painfully, making me wince, making me moan her name as the first spurt flies from the tip of my cock and lands on her chest. Long streams of semen splatter her skin, her breasts, her nipples, and when the last bit of come is wrung out of me I smear my finger through it and bring it up to Violet’s mouth.

“Taste me,” I tell her and she does, drawing my finger into her mouth eagerly, her eyes closing as she whimpers and sucks. The girl is fucking dirty.

Filthy.

And all mine.

She rubs my come into her skin, licks it from her fingers, and all I can do is watch. I wonder if Lawrence ever did this to her.

I doubt it.

I wonder if any man has ever marked her like this. Fucked her like this. Maybe somehow I’m special. Or maybe I’m a game to her. A chance for the uptown heiress to fuck the tattooed bad boy who’s pretending to have his shit together.

The thought alone just about kills me.

Hoping for a distraction, I climb out of bed and walk into the connecting bathroom, hitting the light since the sun has started to go down and it’s getting dark. I catch my reflection in the mirror. I look like hell. What she sees in me I have no idea, but I shut my brain off so I won’t get all fucked up over it. I spot a stack of perfectly folded white washcloths on a shelf and I grab one, turning on the water so I can wait for it to warm. Once it does, I run the washcloth under the water and then turn it off, squeezing out the water so the cloth is damp but not soaked.

I stare at my reflection again even though I don’t mean to. I usually don’t like what I see because all I notice are my mistakes. The stains of my past cover me and I can hardly face myself.

I’ve never done this sort of thing before. Taking care of a girl. Of course, I’ve never fucked a girl like I just fucked Violet. I hope I don’t mess it up.

“Don’t mess it up,” I tell myself before I hit the lights and go back into the bedroom.

“Are you all right?” I ask her, my voice soft, my thoughts everywhere. If she says no I’ll have to leave. And I don’t want to.