Black Light: Rescued

by Livia Grant

  When he turned back to her, laughter danced in his eyes as he taunted her, of course knowing what she'd been doing.

  "It's a bit late for that, baby. I've seen it all already," he teased.

  Too late did she realize her sudden push to her feet left her lightheaded. Too much stress, not enough food and a healthy dose of sexual tension sent her toppling sideways, thankfully into the open arms of the man directly responsible for at least some of her distress.

  Ryder scooped her up into his arms, half wrapped in the towel that dragged behind them as he hurried back into the bedroom. He'd put bedding on while she'd been in the bath. His efforts had the room looking like a five-star hotel. The sheets had been turned down, inviting her to sink into their comfort. The only thing missing was a mint on the pillow.

  He sat her on the edge of the bed before pulling the towel she clung to away from her body. She wrestled for the cloth briefly, but gave in quickly, realizing she didn't have the energy to fight him. Instead, she let her body be dried like a child before he moved the towel to her dripping hair, squeezing out the excess water as he leaned closer.

  She had people wait on her all day, every day. They drove her places, brought her food and drink, applied makeup and even did her hair. So why did what Ryder was doing feel completely different? Randy touched her hair every day on the set, but not once had his fingers left a trail of fire against her scalp.

  They were so close, his legs leaning in, pinning her against the bed where she sat. Unexpected tears pricked at her eyes. She slammed them closed in an attempt to hide her weakness, not wanting to let him know how affected she was by his proximity. Her plan was ruined when she let herself fall forward, her forehead touching the heart of his six-pack abs as she embarrassed herself further by wrapping her arms around his waist, not stopping until she hugged him.

  "Khloe..." Her name came out as if she were torturing him, guttural... raw.

  It was a warning... one she ignored as she let the tears fall, dripping onto his skin.

  His desperate, "Christ," was synchronized with the hard yank of her wet hair, snapping her head back so they were face to face, inches apart as he towered over her. A storm brewed in his eyes as if the dominant normally in control of everything was lost. His confusion made her feel powerful, knowing she had some level of power over him as well. She suspected he didn't let that happen often in his life.

  Time stood still long enough that she had to gasp for a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding. His pull at her scalp increased until she cried out, in pain.

  He released her as fast as he'd grabbed her, shoving her shoulders so hard her body flung back to the soft bed, bouncing slightly from the sudden impact. Ryder pounced on her like a predator, trapping her beneath him like a prized animal he'd wrestled under his control. His hands were near each of her ears, holding his body above her to stare into her eyes. Her legs had fallen open, allowing his crotch to grind against her sex, only his leather pants protecting her from penetration. A dangerous glare had turned his eyes almost black in the dim lighting.

  She was helpless to stop herself. She'd spent too much of their time apart missing him. Her body remembered how he'd played her like a maestro played a violin. In that moment of weakness, she needed to hear their music again.

  "You're playing with fire, little girl."

  She finally found the courage to whisper, "So burn me."

  They hadn't even made it a few hours. The entire cross-country flight, he'd lectured himself on how he would need to keep his emotional distance from the A-list actress. He'd come to protect her. No good would come from confusing his mission to keep Khloe safe with anything personal. He was a Goddamned machine at controlling his responses while on the job. It was why he was alive today and exactly why he needed to keep whatever was happening between them as strictly business.

  Yet, looking into her water-filled eyes, filled with desire and a vulnerability that he might reject her... he acknowledged he'd been a fool to think he could possibly ignore the pull of their powerful attraction. He was in uncharted territory and it terrified him more than having to face down the Volkovs.

  He was a dominant to his core. Control over his environment and even his own self-control was what kept him grounded in life, confident in achieving any goal he set out to grab.

  But the woman staring up from the bed held a power over him he had naively thought was just an exaggerated memory of one spectacular night spent together in February. He didn't like it. He didn't even understand it. But he couldn't deny it.

  I fucking need her.

  His lips crashed down to her mouth a second later. Her arms and legs reaching up to pull his body down on top of her, crushing her to the bed. He tasted the minty toothpaste he'd left out for her as his tongue explored, boldly taking what he needed from her. When she ran her fingers through his hair, he wrenched their bodies apart to lean up, grabbing each hand in his own and pinning them above her head. Their fingers intertwined as she was splayed out beneath him like the sexual offering he so desperately needed.

  His mouth found the sensitive skin at the nape of her neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark in a childish show of possession. She tried to thrust her hips off the bed in hopes of taking his erection inside her. Her guttural groan only made his already hard cock ache for release.

  He tried to reach the pebbled tip of her breast with his mouth, but couldn't. He knew how to fix that.

  "Do not move your arms," he ordered as he released her hands before sliding lower and latching onto her tit with his mouth. He sucked her hard, as if he would magically pull a mouthful of warm milk from her full breast. Allowing their passion free rein, he let his teeth graze the sensitive tip, pulling a cry from his gorgeous captive as she wiggled beneath him.

  Ryder's hands kneaded her breasts, crushing them together roughly, creating a valley he looked forward to thrusting his hard-on into. The image of hot cum spurting from the tip of his cock onto her fresh face, branding her as his, consumed him. He knew he wouldn't be able to resist playing that vision out later.

  But not tonight. Raw instincts took over, demanding that he sheath his sword deep in her sex, taking from her what he needed. Base human hunger drove them both until he was forced to push off her long enough to stand between her legs at the edge of the bed.

  God, even without a stitch of makeup on, she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. She looked younger... more vulnerable than he remembered. It only made him want to protect her that much more.

  His hands moved to the buttons on his leather pants, anxious to be naked, moving inside her. Her gaze fell lower as he pushed his pants down. A surge of dominance reared as her eyes widened, a touch of fear there as she remembered how thick he was.

  A glob of pre-cum wet his tip. He suspected if he were to fuck her right away, he wouldn't last more than a minute. Knowing he needed to slow things down, once naked he fell to his knees, hugging each of her bent legs and pulling her pussy to the edge of the bed. Like a starving man, he lunged forward, sucking her clit as she cried out his name.

  She was so wet and her cream tasted fucking fantastic. He had to tighten his grip around her bent legs, holding on tight as she bucked her hips with her passion. Memories of how beautiful she looked as she orgasmed tempted him to drive her over the edge, but he released his suction on her gem before she came, drawing a frustrated growl from her instead.

  Slowing things further, he brought the tip of his tongue lower, pressing it inside her wet slit and slowly moving it upward, scooping her juices onto his tongue as he went. When he brushed against her swollen nub, he drank her as if he'd been dying of thirst and then started all over again.

  He had no clue how long he lapped at her. He only knew the more he drank, the deeper his hunger for her became. He drove her to the edge again and again until she was crazed with the need to come, writhing beneath him, and mumbling sexy, nonsensical groans.

  When he finally stood, he didn't resist grasping h
is erection, stroking it slowly as he watched Khloe gasp for breath on the bed. The whole room smelled like her.

  It smelled like sex.

  Need drove him. His hands found her ankles, yanking her legs up, out wide and finally, back over her head, folding her lithe body in half and opening her bare pussy perfectly to receive him.

  Their eyes met briefly before they both shifted their gaze to where he was about to claim her. She whimpered as he squeezed her ankles tighter, trying to hold off plunging inside her like a Goddamn rookie. He rocked his hips as his heavy shaft hung between them, the crown rubbing up and down through the slick path his tongue had tasted.

  He waited until she tore her gaze away from the spectacle of their sex, linking them together visually instead. He changed angles, pressing the tip of his dick into her as he stood on his toes, a powerful animal, ready to pounce.

  He wasn't sure if it was her tight pussy or her scream as he bottomed out in one hard thrust that affected him more. Ryder stilled, buried balls deep as he watched the woman beneath him struggle to take his girth.

  He held perfectly still. He'd like to think he did it because he was a gentleman, but he knew the truth. The only reason he wasn't pounding her hard and fast was because he refused to shoot his wad in less than a minute. Her vaginal walls squeezed him, as if anxious to milk him of his white gift.

  Sexual anticipation hung heavy in the air as they each breathed heavily. Lust filled her gaze, making her even more fucking gorgeous than she'd been only a minute before.

  Unable to wait longer, he pulled his shaft free of her body slowly, only to plunge deep. Again. And again. He lost himself in her reactions, knowing he could become addicted to watching the unique cocktail of pleasure and pain on Khloe Monroe's face as he staked his claim on her body in the most traditional of ways.

  He fucked her like she was his, because... well... she was. He drilled her hard and deep, reclaiming the intimacy they'd shared months before until it felt as if no time had passed.

  An ugly thought took hold, threatening to dampen the magic. He felt like an idiot, but he had to know.

  Not missing a beat, he grunted out his serious question. "How many cocks have been in this pussy since me?" He thrust so strong on the word, 'me' she cried out, pain mixing with pleasure in her eyes.

  She didn't answer. Pictures of her holding hands with that fucker Dean Reynolds flashed red before him. His rhythm grew erratic as he became distracted by flashes of her bodyguard lifting her in his arms to put her in the back of the SUV.

  "Answer me, Princess. How many men have you slept with since Valentine's Day?"

  The corner of her mouth turned up in the smallest of smiles. He saw the spark of humor in her eyes as she pieced together the truth. He was jealous at the thought of her being with anyone else.

  His angry growl finally convinced her to give him the answer he had wanted to hear.

  "Zero." She hesitated, looking vulnerable again before adding, "No one was you."

  Their bodies slapped together until the woman beneath him shocked him, begging permission to come. It was a rule he'd enforced months before in their three-hour tryst. It humbled him that she remembered and deferred to his authority over her body, even without Black Light and the roulette wheel there to direct their game.

  "Come with me, baby. Let me see you lose control."

  Her pussy clamped his cock tighter, coaxing him to deliver his load deep inside her womb. When he could catch his breath, he couldn't help but praise her.

  "Such a good girl. I've been saving it all for you, too."

  He'd made them food. She needed to eat, but all of his energy left him with his ejaculation. Suddenly feeling as tired as she looked, he collapsed, his weight crushing her to the bed in her uncomfortable position until she protested, breathless.

  "You're squishing me."

  Ryder reluctantly lifted himself, letting his softening erection slide out of her swollen flesh. It was gratifying to see remnants of his pearly seed slipping out of her gash, sliding onto the clean sheets. If he were a gentleman, he'd get her a warm, wet cloth, but he settled for reaching for the bath towel he'd thrown aside earlier, using it to dab at her leaking sex.

  Pushing to his feet, he reached out to scoop her relaxed body up into his arms, depositing her head and still damp hair on one of the pillows at the head of the bed, pulling the covers over her naked body and then sliding in beside her to pull her into his arms.

  Having a sex life that usually consisted of pole dancers and sex workers, Ryder rarely snuggled, yet that was exactly what they were doing as they each came down from their sexual high. He tried not to think about how pleased he was that she'd not slept with other men while they'd been apart. They'd had no commitment to each other. No understanding of monogamy to consider. Not even a pinky swear of fidelity.

  Khloe's voice broke the silence. "Wow..."

  He chuckled at her embarrassment at her exclamation.

  She giggled, poking his chest playfully. "Some gentleman you are, laughing at me."

  He hugged her tighter, pulling her until she lay almost on top of his body before answering. "Hey, at least I'm not making you sleep in the wet spot."

  Chapter 13

  Khloe woke to the sun shining in her eyes and the smell of bacon cooking. The aroma drew a grumble from her empty stomach. She felt like she'd been asleep for days. Her brain rebooted slowly, enjoying the rare feeling of calmness that had eluded her for weeks. For the first time in a long time, she enjoyed waking slowly, not being jarred awake by nightmares of a faceless man stealing her away to torture her.

  She stretched, reaching her arms up with a yawn and that's when her body screamed at her. Every part of her ached in the best possible way and she had the sex-god, Ryder Helms, to blame for it.

  Not that she was complaining.

  She forced her eyes open, squinting until she grew accustomed to the bright California sunshine streaming in. She knew before looking that she was alone in the bed. She knew that because if Ryder had been there, he'd have been touching her. Squeezing her. Pinching her. Caressing her. Fucking her.

  Like he'd done all night long.

  After getting a few hours of rest after their passionate reunion, he'd woken her by roughly rolling her onto her tummy, lifting her hips and thrusting his engorged cock deep before she was even fully awake. As if it had been waiting for it, her body let him slide home, already slick for an encore performance of their first rendezvous of the night. Unlike their initial coupling, he'd had the staying power of a racehorse, riding her hard through not one or two, but three orgasms before finally emptying himself inside her again.

  When they'd caught their breath, he'd pulled her up to spoon, her back to his front, using his right arm as her pillow. They each fell back into a satiated sleep, his softening appendage still buried inside her.

  There was no clock in the room, so she had no clue what time it was. Based on the sun alone, it had to be after eight. She'd been out of communication, without her cell phone, for over ten hours now. A part of her didn't feel whole without her twenty-first century technology, but a bigger part felt relaxed for the first time in a long time, knowing no one could find her... get to her... mess with her. Not her stalker and not even the Kaplans.

  It was liberating.

  Just knowing Ryder was so near calmed her in a way that didn't make sense to her. She knew Trevor cared for her. That he'd give his life for her if it came down to it. He was solid. Dependable.

  Ryder had shown himself to be the opposite of those qualities. He'd pushed her hard, in unpredictable ways. He'd deserted her, without explanation or apology, before showing up again from out of the blue, acting possessive one minute and aloof the next.

  He was an enigma. Unknown.

  Her brain told her to run the other way, yet deep down, that inner voice she'd learned to listen to told her to trust him. It confused her greatly.

  A full bladder and empty stomach eventually coaxed her from the
warm bed. The towel she'd used the night before was gone so she padded her way to the bathroom naked.

  The full-length mirror next to the sink welcomed her, the reflection reminding her of the aggressive nature of the other occupant of the cabin. Shadows of forming bruises were visible on her boobs and upper arms where he'd been particularly passionate with her. She should be furious considering she was in the middle of filming. Instead, she was confusingly pleased to have his marks on her body, proving last night hadn't been a figment of her imagination.

  She eyed up the shower, tempted to steam away some of her aches, but decided to go in search of coffee first. The robe on the back of the door turned out to be at least three sizes too large, almost dragging on the ground. She could have wrapped the faded terrycloth fabric around her three times. Only the matching belt held it together as she walked down the hallway, into the open great room of the cabin.

  Being barefoot made her trek silent, allowing her a few minutes of undetected reconnaissance on the handsome man moving effortlessly through the upscale kitchen. In all of the daydreams she'd lost herself in thinking of Ryder, not once had she pictured him frying bacon and eggs. He was shirtless, wearing only a pair of comfortable lounge pants. She'd done her share of modeling before getting into acting. The scene looked like a photo shoot for an Eddie Bauer catalog. Ryder could play the hunky model teaching men how to relax in the woods.

  Yet the closer she looked, she knew he wasn't relaxed. Muscles rippled and tensed as he looked out the window over the kitchen sink often as if satisfying himself they were still alone. She'd seen that look of concentration on his handsome face before. He had a lot on his mind.

  The promise of coffee eventually got her moving again. When he saw her approaching, the scowl on his brow deepened, hurting her ego. She'd hoped he'd be as happy to see her this morning as she'd been admiring him. Instead, he looked angry.