Page 58 of Emmy's Ride

That was all it took.

He stripped the rest of my clothes away with reckless urgency. Then he was there, pushing into me, filling me inch by inch.

Austin stilled, his forehead pressing against mine. His breathing was heavy, labored. “You feel that? That’s me inside you. That’s us, Emmy. There’s no getting away from this.”

He was right. There was no running from this. No pretending it wasn’t real. When he moved, and all thought disappeared.

Austin took me with deep, deliberate strokes—slow at first, drawing it out, making me feel every inch of him. Then faster, harder, pushing me higher and higher until I was gasping, clawing at his shoulders, my body trembling beneath him.

“Say it,” he demanded, his lips brushing against my ear. “Tell me who you belong to.”

My body clenched around him, pleasure building fast, overwhelming.

“You.” I forced the words out, panting. “Only you, Austin.”

He groaned, his thrusts turning frantic, his grip almost bruising as he drove us both over the edge.

And when we came together, my name was the only thing on his lips.

The scent of soap and Austin lingered on my skin, a reminder of how he had tended to me in the shower—his touch both gentle and thorough, washing away the evidence of our time together but leaving his mark on me in ways I couldn't erase. The contrast between the way he had possessed me earlier and the care he had shown after left my mind spinning.

Now, wrapped in one of his shirts and a pair of shorts, I stood in his kitchenette, staring down at the vegetables I’d run down to the club kitchen to get and was now mindlessly chopping. The truth was I had no idea if he would be back in time to eat what I cooked. That was the reality of being with Austin.

He had obligations. Responsibilities. And if I wanted to stay with him—if I was even capable of giving myself fully—then I would have to accept that.

Could I?

Before I could dwell on the question, a knock sounded at the door.

I wiped my hands on a towel and moved toward it, opening it to reveal Riot.

I remembered him from before, one of Luke’s closest friends once upon a time, until they had a falling out. I never knew what happened between them, only that their friendship had never been the same.

“Riot,” I said cautiously.

He gave me a small smirk, leaning against the doorframe. “Austin’s asking for you. He’s out back on the deck.”

That wasn’t surprising. Austin must have found something else out about Luke.

I nodded and turned back toward the kitchen, slipping my shoes on. “Alright. Let’s go.”

He moved to the side as I stepped past him into the hallway.

“We’ve got to go this way,” he said, tilting his head toward a door that I knew didn’t go to the deck.

I frowned. “You mean out to the alley?”

“Yeah. He asked me to pick up something back there. You don’t mind, do you?” His lip jumped nervously, and something about the way he looked at me made my stomach tighten.

“Sure. Fine.” It made no sense. There was nothing back there but trashcans and old tires from the garage.

Before I could second-guess, I stepped through the door, following Riot.

It was completely dark, no way to get my bearings. Something rough and sticky was slapped over my mouth before I could scream. Hands—large, strong hands—gripped my wrists, pinning them behind my back, and more tape was wrapped around them.

I thrashed, kicked, but Riot was too big, too strong.

Panic exploded in my chest as a bag was shoved over my head, cutting off my sight completely. The fabric smelled musty, stale, and I gasped against the tape, my breath coming in short, sharp bursts.

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