Claimed by the Bad Boy Page 9

  With another inhalation of breath, she moved into the center of her bedroom where she went to her knees—facing the open door. Unsure of what to do with her hands, she placed them on top of her thighs and worried her bottom lip with her teeth. The picture of what she must look like hit her. She was an educated, independent woman. Should she be protesting this submissive position? Was she allowing herself to be degraded, waiting naked for a man in such a manner? She mulled everything over for a moment. No, she decided. This wasn’t degrading. Quite the opposite. Something about surrendering, giving herself to Ryker in this way, sent little pinpricks of excitement over her. Yet, there was so much more going on with her, too. She was experiencing so many things, including being struck with the thought she was aroused. And as crazy as it seemed, she had a sense of being sexually empowered, even though there was no denying or hiding the fact she was also nervous.

  Molly splayed her fingers across her thighs. If she disregarded the nerves and set them aside, she was ready for whatever Ryker was going to do. Willing to let him take her wherever he wanted to go.

  Minutes went by in agonizing slowness—Molly straining to hear Ryker’s steps coming up the stairs—although there was nothing but the sound of her breaths, causing her jittery anticipation to intensify. What was taking him so long? What was he doing? Then, when she’d started to fear that perhaps he’d pulled another one of his disappearing acts and left, the distinct sound of creaking wood rang out.

  He’s coming.

  Each footfall sent a shimmer of excitement pinging around in her stomach, going up, up, up until the shimmer left from her in a breath and floated around the room, settling over her skin in a light sheen of dazzling need.

  “You are going to apologize for the things you said to me, Molly.”

  All six foot four of Ryker took up her doorway—his caramel brown hair disheveled, as though he’d plowed his fingers through the strands. And even though he was dressed in a simple gray T-shirt and long, baggy shorts, he took her breath away. The look he gave her was pure top of the food chain. He consumed every inch of her with those piercing eyes, taking her in, in such a way she felt the beat of her heart in her throat. In her wrists. Between her legs. Every molecule of her body ached for this man.

  “You said, it was none of my business who you’re with.” He took a step forward into her room. “You said, I had no right to be jealous.” He took another step, then another, until he stood in front of her. Looming. “You said, you were still wet and smelled of another man fucking you.” He reached down and swiped a finger across one erect nipple.

  The pleasure assaulting her overflowed and seeped from her lips. “Aah….”

  He squeezed the plump tip. She sucked in a breath.

  “Apologize.”

  God help her, the man was magnificent. Restrained power and commanding presence. And the low rumble in his voice made her sex quiver.

  “I’m sorry.”

  And she was. She was sorry for so many things when it came to Ryker. The things she should have done and didn’t. The things she did do and shouldn’t have.

  He cocked his head, looking down at her. “I don’t believe you.” He rolled her right nipple between his expert fingers, squeezing once more, putting some bite into the maneuver. “Try again.”

  “I-I’m sorry, Ryker.”

  “No. I don’t think you are.”

  “I—” Her words were cut short when he flicked her right nipple, as if flicking a marble across the ground, and twirled her left nipple with the fingers of his other hand.

  “Tug my swim trunks down,” he said with a voice gone sandpaper grit. “And convince me.”

  Complying, Molly reached, and tug, tugged, until the waistband of his long, gray camouflaged-printed shorts slipped past his knees, and the swimwear hit the floor at his feet.

  She looked up at him.

  “Stroke my cock.”

  Ryker continued to grasp both of her nipples, as she glanced back down and took in his size with wide eyes.

  “Do it, Molly.” He pulled her needy flesh, imparting his demand. “Stroke.” She moaned. “My.” A quick tug made her gasp and wriggle. “Cock.” Ryker pinched her nipples harder.

  Heat coiled low in her belly.

  “Okay,” she said in a breathy voice and reached, wrapping her fingers around the base of him, sliding up the steel-hard length, twisting her wrist, giving an extra squeeze at the broad head.

  “That’s it,” he said. “Again.”

  Her sex spasmed when he tweaked both of her nipples and the fingers she’d curled around his cock, relaxed. “Oh, God.”

  “I didn’t tell you to stop.”

  She started again, gliding her hand up and down, up and down, watching the veins in his shaft become more prominent with each stroke.

  When she spread the drop of glistening pre-cum around the head with her thumb, Ryker said, “Put me in your mouth.”

  She swiped her tongue over her teeth. His dick twitched. She looked up at him from beneath her lashes, seeing the hunger in his eyes, and the harsh, no-nonsense set to his jaw. A thrill rippled along the length of her spine.

  “What are you waiting for, Molly? Do it.”

  Placing the tip to her mouth, she blew her warm breath over him, parted her lips, and took him, feeling the weight of his dick on her tongue. Ryker stopped punishing her nipples. Instead, he wound his fingers in her hair, and moved her head forward on him. There was no way she could take him all. He was huge.

  He pressed hard, then backed off, pulling himself free of her—prick bobbing in front of her nose. “Use your hand at the base.”

  Molly gripped him and started sucking, twirling her tongue around the flared head, then slid down the length of his cock as far as she could, moaning when he touched the back of her throat.

  “That’s it.”

  Ryker held on to the back of her skull. She almost choked. He pulled back. She took a deep breath. He set the pace, thrusting into her mouth. Relentless, yet controlled.

  Wanting to break that control—put a crack in his composure—she pumped him with her hand, and took him between her lips, sucking harder. Her other hand anchored on his muscled thigh, feeling the strength work beneath her palm. Her eyes watered. Her lips buzzed. Her jaw started to ache, but in a good way, and even more shocking, Molly was so wet, so turned on, her juices slicked her own squeezing thighs.

  Ryker groaned. Pride for plucking such a guttural sound from him swirled through her, and her empty sex clenched and throbbed. He pulled his glistening dick out of her mouth, cursing under his breath, using his hand to pump himself. Once. Twice. Three times.

  “Move your hair. I want your tits.” She slipped her hair over her shoulders. With one last rub to his dick, Ryker came, jetting hot cum over the apex of her breasts and rosy nipples—his big body shuddering.

  When he had spilled everything onto her skin, Ryker took his fingers and rubbed his essence into her, paying extra attention to coat each of her nipples.

  “Pull my trunks up, and then stand,” he instructed.

  She did, feeling the silky warmth of his release start to cool on her flesh, breathing in the salt-musk scent of him.

  Once she was steady on her feet, he wrapped his hand around her throat, using his thumb to prop up her chin. “Look at me.” She met his gaze. “You wear my scent, now, and you will stay with my mark on your body until I tell you, you can take a shower.” He bent and kissed her lips in a whisper of touch. “And just so we’re clear. You will not see Jack again. You….” Ryker slid his hand up from her neck and skimmed his knuckles across her cheek, burning her to the bone. “Belong to me.” The declaration caused her heart to beat double time. “And what’s mine. Will always be mine. Do I make myself clear?”

  She nodded. He brushed back some of the strands of her hair from her face.

  “Give me the words, Molly.”

  “Yes.”

  “Who do you belong to?”

  “You, Ryker.”


  The corners of his mouth twisted up into a devastating smile.

  “Are you done?” she asked. “You know. Showing me?”

  “Molly,” he said in that low grumble of his. “I haven’t even begun to show you what it means to be mine.”

  She stared up at him, but he didn’t say anything else. Ryker simply turned and strolled out the bedroom door.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Past.

  “Good afternoon, Ms. Monroe,” Jack Jamison said, all business as he entered her office. Then he shut the door behind him.

  She set the file she’d been about to read down.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Jamison.”

  The snick of the lock caused her stomach to drop. She despised the sound but refused to allow bad memories of darkness and closets to float to the surface. Taking a breath, Molly gathered her thoughts the instant before he strolled in her direction.

  “I can’t stop thinking about the other night.”

  She blushed. “Jack. Stop. We’re at work.”

  “I know, but I’ve been fantasizing about coming in here and—”

  She held up her hand. “Don’t say it.”

  Jack hit her with a crooked grin, eyes sparkling. “Say what? You don’t know what I was going to say.”

  “I have a pretty good idea.”

  He half-seated himself on the corner of her desk, one of his long legs crooked at the knee. “All I can think about is you. How you smell. The feel of your body. Your taste. The sounds you made when I made love to you.”

  “Jack. We can’t be talking about…You know. That. Not here,” she whispered.

  “That?” He chuckled. “You mean how fantastic our love making was?”

  “Yes.”

  “No one can hear us, Molls.”

  Glancing down, Molly studied the wood grain in her desk. “Please, don’t call me Molls.”

  “Why not?” He sounded interested to know the reason.

  “I just don’t care for the name, okay?”

  “All right,” he said, and reached over to swipe a fingertip across her cheek. “I didn’t mean to make you sad.”

  She lifted her head and looked at him. “I’m not,” she said, lying.

  “Molly. What made you change your mind about us?” He gave her a dazzling smile. “Not that I’m complaining. It’s just. You never seemed interested. And then. You were.”

  “I like you, Jack.”

  “Good to know, because the feeling is mutual.”

  “I guess you wore me down,” she teased.

  He chortled. “Now, that’s something a man wants to hear. ‘I’m only going out with you because basically you bugged the hell out of me and I couldn’t take it anymore so I said yes just to shut you the hell up.’”

  Chuckling, Molly replied with, “I never said all that.”

  “I guess I’m reading between the lines.”

  “Well. Stop reading.”

  Jack took hold of her hand. “I’ll stop reading between the lines, if you go out with me again.”

  “Okay.”

  “Tonight,” he said. “We’ll have some dinner, a little dancing, and maybe dessert back at my place?”

  “Sure. I’d love to have dessert at your place.”

  He gave her an eye-crinkling grin. “I’m thinking of licking whipped cream off your spectacular nipples.”

  She swatted at his knee. “Stop.”

  “You’re too cute, Molly.”

  “I’ve got some ground rules.”

  “Ground rules, huh?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. Let’s hear them.”

  “If we’re going to do this, no flirting at work,” she said. “We keep things on the down low, for obvious reasons.”

  He scowled. “What are those obvious reasons? We don’t have a no-frat policy here?”

  “Jack, if people know we’re sleeping together, they’ll think I got the promotion to co-director because of it.”

  “Ah,” he mumbled, nodding his head. “Well, we both know that’s not the case. You were promoted because you were the best candidate for the position. And we didn’t start sleeping together until after you gained your new title.”

  “But people around here won’t think that. And I doubt our board of directors would either.”

  “All right, Ms. Monroe. We’ll keep things on the ‘down low.’”

  “And, we keep things casual. Nothing heavy.”

  “I can do casual.”

  “We don’t let anything between us interfere with our jobs here. Ever.” She stared at him. “It will be business as usual at work. Do you agree?”

  “Molly,” he said, his voice going low. “I’ll agree to anything to get you back in my bed.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Present.

  “Jesus H. Christ,” Ryker muttered to himself.

  Kicking the Egyptian cotton sheet free of his feet, he rolled over in his bed, thinking of Molly on her knees for him only a few hours ago. For a millisecond, when he’d ordered her to suck him, he’d wondered if he’d pushed her too far. Then he reminded himself she wanted him to show her what he wanted. So, he’d continued. She never batted an eyelash. In fact, she took what he gave and then wanted to know if he was done. As if.

  Ryker pictured her there, in the middle of her bedroom, supplicant before him, naked, her porcelain skin as pale as milk. It was better than any of the fantasies he’d had about her. Only always her.

  God. She was beautiful, with her hair obscuring her lush breasts, and a hint of her gumdrop nipples peeking through some of the strands. The slight tremble when he touched her. That manicured triangle of strawberry pubic hair between her supple thighs. And when she took his cock into her warm mouth, it took all his control to maintain. How did he maintain? He recalled those luscious lips wrapping around the head of him. The little sounds she made as she sucked. The velveteen slide of her tongue along his shaft. The widening of her eyes when he tapped her tonsils. She’d been filled to the brim with him, and by the squeeze of her thighs and the moisture glistening upon them, there was no doubt sucking him off aroused her. The thought had him hard again.

  Stroking his dick with his left hand, he reached for his cell on the nightstand with his right, tapped the icon, and put the phone to his ear.

  Four rings later, Molly answered with a sleepy, “Hello?”

  “Are you still covered in me, Molls?”

  “Ryker? What time is it?”

  “A little after 9:00 a.m.,” he said. “Now answer me.”

  “Yes,” she said. “I am.”

  The knowledge made his heart thump-thump hard in his chest, and his balls pulled up tight as he worked his cock in his left hand while talking to her. She had the sweetest voice.

  A muffled yawn buzzed over the connection. “Are you in bed?”

  “Mm. I was sleeping. Something you should be doing.”

  He closed his eyes, picturing her face. The swell of her breasts. How responsive she’d been to him as he pinched her nipples. The soft roundness of her belly. Molly wasn’t a walking stick, she had curves, and he was going to explore all of them soon. “Molls?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I want you to reach down and slip those delicate fingers between your plump lower lips, and rub your clit for me.”

  “I—”

  “Touch yourself,” he demanded.

  Two heartbeats passed, then came her little mew, tickling the shell of his ear. “I’m touching myself.”

  “I want you to think about me, being there with you. My head tucked between your soft thighs. My lips there where your fingers are.”

  “Oh,” she uttered in a breath.

  Ryker squeezed his dick and jerked at the sound. “Play with that little clit, just like I would with my teeth and tongue.” A pause. “Are you doing it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good girl. Because that’s what I want to be doing. My tongue, licking up your center, finding your clit and pla
ying there.”

  “Mmm….”

  “I’ll feel your pussy quivering for me as I breathe in your scent. Then, I’ll lap at your spill and fuck into that tight little hole with my tongue, tasting you.” Picturing what he was telling her, he picked up the pace with his cock, stroking fast and hard. “You’ll beg me for more. Won’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Tell me, Molly.”

  “Yes, Ryker. I want your tongue on me. Licking and sucking, and your teeth. I want your teeth and tongue.”

  Damn. He wanted that, too. To have her spread open for him, her warm, wet cunt pressed to his face.

  “You want me to eat your succulent little pussy until you scream, don’t you sweetheart?”

  “I do.”

  She panted into the phone.

  “You want my mouth working you until you call out my name. Until you explode on my tongue.”

  “Mm hm.”

  “Then, you want to be filled up by me, don’t you?”

  “Ryker,” she said in a breath.

  “You want my hard cock, deep inside you. Pounding.”

  “I’m going to….”

  “Stop.”

  Her hitching breath made him smile. “What?”

  “Stop touching yourself.”

  “But—”

  “I said stop. You will not come.”

  “I—”

  “Your pleasure belongs to me. I say when, where, and how you will come for me. Understand?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Give me the words, Molly.”

  “You say when, where, and how.”

  “Very good, sweetheart. Do you still hide a spare key under the planter on your porch?”

  A breath. “Uh huh.”

  “I’ll be there in forty-five minutes.”

  “You will?”

  “Yes.” Ryker freed his cock, and sat up, placing his feet on the floor. “I want you to ready yourself for me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You are to shower. Shave. And by shave, I mean I want to see your pussy completely bare. Then, you will be waiting for me, clean, smooth, naked, and on your forearms and knees in your bed, ass up for me.”