Page 38 of Fated Love with You
“No, what, Miss Jane?” Ryder narrows his eyes.
“No, I can’t get started now,” I say. “I can start tomorrow after I get my full day off, and after I contemplate whether or not I want to get involved with something that might get me sent to prison.”
His jaw ticks, but everything else in this room remains frozen.
“Am I asking for too much?” I speak a bit louder. “Haven’t I done enough for you—on your terms—already?”
“I need everyone to leave this room and get off this floor.” Ryder’s voice is clipped. “Now.”
His men exit without hesitation. No glances. No questions.
The double doors slam hard behind Mr. Johnson, and only me and Ryder are left.
He doesn’t move at first. He just watches me like he’s weighing something. Then he starts strolling toward me—slow and deliberate.
With every step he takes forward, I try to take one back, but I can’t move. His haze is pinning me to the spot, and before I know it, he’s standing right in front of my chair.
“You’re not allowed to speak to me like that in front of my staff,” he says. “You do that again, and they’ll start thinking you’re a weakness of mine.”
“I—”
“You’ve interrupted me enough.” He cuts me off, wrapping his fingers around my wrist, pulling me to my feet. Then to him. His mouth claims mine—hot, bruising, a demand I can’t deny.
He turns me toward the table, sweeping aside papers and pushing me flat against the cold wood. His hand slides between my thighs, fingers stroking with just enough pressure to unravel me slowly.
“Promise me you won’t talk to me like that again,” he growls against my throat, lips brushing heat into my skin.
He pushes inside, hard and unrelenting, then stills. His fingers tighten on my hips.
“You come when I say. Not before.”
He moves again—slow, brutal thrusts that steal the breath from my lungs. Then he stops. Holds.
Another thrust. Then stillness.
“Say it.”
“Say what?” I gasp, dizzy.
“That you’re mine. That you’ll follow the rules.”
I don’t speak fast enough.
He pulls out entirely, letting the cool air hit where I need him most. “Say it.”
“I’m yours,” I breathe. “I’ll follow the rules.”
He slides back into me, thrusts harder, deeper, until my climax coils tight, until I’m desperate, trembling.
Then he stops again.
I sob. He waits.
“Please,” I whisper.
Only then does he let me fall. My orgasm tears through me like fire, and I shatter beneath him, fingers clawing at the table for balance.
His forehead presses to mine, chest heaving. Then he slowly eases out of me.
