Echo (Bleeding Hearts #1)(49)

Ryland ushered me out the door and into a waiting black sedan parked at the curb. Ted was at the wheel, for which I was grateful because Ryland probably wouldn’t try to speak in front of him.

I stared out the window as we pulled onto the street, and Ryland placed a possessive hand upon my knee. I didn’t fight it, and I tried to ignore the warmth that lingered beneath his palm.

The ride was quiet, but my thoughts were loud. It was only when we’d pulled up to my apartment building that I gave him a questioning glance. He didn’t say anything as he ushered me inside and into a waiting elevator the doorman held open for him.

The doors swallowed us up, and the button for the top floor was already lit up as we began our ascent.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

He didn’t take his eyes off the doors. “To my place.”

“Of course you have a place here,” I scoffed. “Why wouldn’t you? It only makes sense that you have an apartment in the same building as me…”

My words were cut short when the elevator pinged and Ryland dragged me out by the arm. I wanted to slap him, and instinctively I raised my arm.

Quicker than I even knew was possible, he pinned me up against the wall with both wrists dangling above me as he held me with the weight of his body. His breathing was ragged, and his eyes liquid pools of cobalt fire as his lips collided with mine.

I whined in protest for all of two seconds before my body responded to his. This was our ritual. The only way we knew, and the thing we did best. We couldn’t share our lives with each other, so we shared our bodies instead.

His hands were everywhere, ripping and shredding my clothing as he tried to pull it free from my body. It was only then I realized my hands were threading through his hair, tugging as he kissed his way down my neck.

His touch was rough and feral, filled with possession that contradicted his words. I wanted to make sense of it, but in my hormone-fueled lust, I didn’t even care why. I clutched at his shirt, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction when I pulled and buttons scattered all over the floor. Ryland responded in kind by biting the side of my breast. I pulled his shirt down as far as I could get it and raked my nails over his back. He groaned and freed his erection from his pants.

His movements were eager, uncoordinated, unlike him. He couldn’t get inside of me fast enough. When he finally did, he slammed my back against the wall as he gripped my hips in his hands. I was at the mercy of his thrusts in this position, unable to do anything but hold on as he rocked into me with unrestrained power.

“I’m the one who makes you come.” His words were punctuated by thrusts. “Always.”

“Yes,” I whimpered, clutching at his shoulders. “Please, Ryland…”

He clung to me, tasted me, breathed me in like I was his favorite addiction.

“I’m the only one,” he roared. “The only one who gets to be inside of you like this. The only one who ever will.”

More tears spilled from my eyes as I shook my head in vehement denial.

“I hate you!”

He laughed darkly as his thumb found my clit and worked it over in a way that made me buck against him wildly. It was too rough against my sensitive tissue, and yet my body reacted anyway, barreling me into an orgasm I didn’t even see coming.

“Don’t hate me so much now,” he mocked. “Do you?”

I wrapped my hand around his throat and squeezed. He groaned. But I didn’t want him to feel good. I didn’t want him to like what I was doing, so I hauled off and slapped him. Hard.

He froze inside of me, and his eyes raged as they bore into my own. I smiled.

I was punishing myself by pushing him, making him hurt me. But it was the only way I could survive this game.

He pulled me off of him and flipped me around, shoving my head towards the ground as he gripped my ass in his hands. I heard him tug his belt from his jeans before he kicked them away and looped the leather around my throat and pulled.

My back had to arch to accommodate air, and soon I was bent so far backward I was looking into his eyes. The tip of his cock nudged against my ass, and I tried not to let my fear show. The only time he’d ever taken me there before, he helped me warm up. But there would be no warming up this time.

He pushed inside of me and I bit down so hard I tasted blood, but I didn’t make a sound. The leather bit into the sensitive skin around my throat as he pushed deeper and deeper.

“Is this what you want, baby girl?” he challenged. “You want me to hurt you?”

“I’m not your baby girl,” I rasped.

“You’re my anything I f*cking want you to be,” he grunted, sliding all the way to the hilt.

My breath was ragged, and the only thing holding me up now were his hands and the leather. He was depriving me of air, but I refused to be the first to give. I refused to show him weakness.

His palm came down so hard on my ass it made me squeal in shock.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he rasped, rolling his cock around inside of me.

“Never.”

“Goddammit, Brighton.” He slapped my other ass cheek.

Spots filled my vision, and if I didn’t relent soon, I was going to pass out. But I didn’t care. I wanted to win at least one round with him.

“You created this monster,” I croaked.

My eyes fluttered shut, and Ryland tossed away the belt. I dragged in a breath as he carried me to the dining room table and laid me across it.