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CHAPTER HUNDRED AND NINE
The ride back to Ryder's place was silent except for the slow song playing on the radio, the text and the whole event of the night hanging thick in the air between them.
The memory of it made Bree's skin crawl, it filled her with so much disgust and nausea and for Ryder, it irked him to hell and back that the bastard hadn't hung around long enough to be caught by him.
He'd have pounded his face beyond recognition and made sure he got even worse treatment after.
It was worse that there had been no fucking security camera footage to show who the corporate was, not even one.
Another reason he hated these old apartments, which fucking building dosen't have one of those for security purposes.
He drove them back to his house, his security details following discretely behind them for protection purposes.
This might be some jobless, perverted, idiot playi
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His scent, the warmth of his body behind hers, and the sure safety of his arms wrapped around her, these were the things that had finally cuddled Bree back to sleep, even though she'd dreamt about tonight while at it and had woken up again in a fright. It had been there, l the constant fear that it could all somehow repeat itself and this time she'd be conscious watching it, the loath, the disgust..... But sometime, much later in the morning, she'd succumbed to the beckoning arms of oblivion and had fallen asleep again, amd this time she'd had a long dreamless sleep that had lasted hours. She woke up much later to an empty, cold space next to her in the bed and a text from Rider that was checking to see that she was fine and not still traumatized from what had happened last night. She missed him almost immediately, it was like her morning had gone sour and lost its colors after she realised he was gone, but then again he had to work and she understood. It was just that she'd hope
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The kiss wasn't supposed to be anything serious, because they were still taking baby steps with this, but it did, escalating quickly and getting deeper so easily like always, building an engulfing flame that burned so bright in them. Kissing the soft rosy buds that were Bree's lips was always like this for Ryder and in this particular moment, it was like coming alive again after a long time, he was home in her arms. This part of his life had been dead and buried the day he'd taken the irrevocably stupid decision to walk away from her life and what they'd had. But tasting the undiluted headiness of her kiss again, getting lost in the sweet intoxication that was her lips, wrapped in the mixture of both their scents.....that was everything he's dream of and prayed for. Cupping her face gently in his palm, he kissed her even deeper, familiarizing himself with her taste all over again.
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He was big down there, standing at nothing less than a proud nine and a half inches and more than half of that in girth. It made Bree wonder how it had managed to fit inside her before. But if it hadn't been a problem then, it certainly wouldn't be one now. "It dosen't bite." He teased, smirking at her, probably already reading her thoughts off her face. She got of the bed while he watched, sashaying her way to him, and before he could realise what she was doing, she dropped to her knees, that proud and beautiful part of his anatomy staring her in the face. It was her turn to return the favor and pleasure him as best as she could and she planned to deliver it so good. "You know you don't have to do this, right?" He asked in a gruff voice that betrayed his excitement at the prospect of what she had in mind.
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And a perfect night it was, at least that's how it had started out, until his peaceful, sound sleep slowly morphed into his worst nightmare. Somehow, he was back in his old room, with no way out, stuck staring into the faces of the three men that he'd rather not set his eyes on ever again for the rest of his life. Not seeing any of them again for the rest of his life would be too soon for another life time. It didn't make sense though, he was done and free from this life and he'd made sure these men were under the custody of the law and about to loose their freedom for good. And there was Paul, the man that had ceased to be his father from the day he'd created this league of devils haunting his life. He was a little boy again, young and afraid, their toy to play with, mess up and discard as they pleased. His heart slammed a tattoo against his chest with every beat, every rhythm, as he took in the lewd smiles plastered on their faces with every step the they took in his direction,
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