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He moved his hand away from where he tormented her, dragging her panties from between her legs and shoving them in his pocket. He stood, took her hand, and called out to the bartender, “We’ll be right back.”
The guy gave them a smirk, nodding.
Ryder pulled her through the tables, past the dance floor and down a corridor before he came to a tiny alcove. He tucked her into the corner and said in a voice thick with desire, “This isn’t going to be pretty.”
She gripped him around the neck. “I don’t want pretty. I want what only you can give me.”
“And what’s that?” He lifted her leg, and she planted her foot on the wall while he unbuttoned his pants and slid his zipper down.
“Dirty, raw fucking.” She had no shame around him, and best of all, she didn’t have to pretend otherwise.
He kissed her, hard. It was demanding and ruthless. All tongue and teeth and snarling. Like they were two animals that didn’t care about civility. Which maybe, together, they were.
He pulled back and gripped her hair tight in his fist. “That’s right, only me, Sophie.”
“Only you.” She tilted her hips and glanced at the hallway. “Anyone that comes down the hall is going to see us.”
“Do you care?”
“Nope.” He slid a hand into his pocket where she knew he carried condoms, since as he said, they couldn’t go anywhere without it being a possibility, and she grabbed his wrist. “Take me.”
He paused, and when he met her gaze his eyes smoldered. “Bare?”
She reached between him, grasped his cock, and slid up and down the length. “I don’t want barriers.”
He made a feral sound in the back of his throat, gripped her hair tighter, and claimed her mouth, his kiss so filthy her knees went weak. He pushed away her hand and guided his cock to her entrance. But instead of entering her, he rubbed the head along her clit, pulling away to whisper on a harsh breath, “Is this what you want?”
“Yes.” She rocked back, wrapping her arms around his waist and digging her nails into his back. “Yes.”
On the next pass, he impaled her and she cried out. With one hand still tight in her hair he put his hand over her mouth, thrusting into her.
They went a bit wild. Held up only by the wall at her back and the brace of her leg against the wall, she let him do all the work, pounding inside her, and when he hit a particularly good spot, she bit his hand.
“Fuck, Sophie.” He moved faster, harder.
Head lolling back, her eyes fluttered closed. Trapped against the wall, one of Ryder’s hands in her hair, the other covering her mouth, his hot, harsh breath in her ear, she’d never felt so completely taken.
She dug her nails harder into his skin as she tightened, coiling tight on the very precipice.
He tilted her head and ordered, “Look at me.”
Her lashes blinked open and their eyes met.
“Don’t look away.” He released his hold on her mouth, covering her lips with a kiss before pulling back to look into her eyes.
What she saw there stunned her. A need and burning desire that matched her own. The same feral wildness that lived inside her. She whispered, “Ryder.”
“I know, Sophie.” He thrust hard and she keened. “You’re mine.”
“Yes.”
“No matter what happens, you and I . . .” He trailed off.
She gripped him around the neck, pulling him closer. She didn’t know where the words came from, but when she spoke them, she knew they were true. “You’re it for me.”
“Yes. Nobody else.”
“Nobody.” He was her home. The only place she’d ever truly belonged.
