Claimed by the Bad Boy

by London Saint James

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Present.

  Wearing her fuzzy, dark purple bathrobe, hair wet and dripping, Molly hustled to answer her front door.

  “Hi,” she said, smiling at Ryker. “You said to be ready by eight tonight. It’s only seven. You’re early.”

  He walked in when she scooted over, and her gaze fell to the bags clutched in his hands a second before she shut the door.

  “I know I’m early.”

  “What’s in the bags?”

  “Something for you,” he said.

  Her heart and stomach fluttered in unison. “For me?”

  “Yep.”

  Molly clapped, overjoyed. “I love presents.”

  “Let’s go up to your room.”

  She tilted her head, gazing at him. “Okay.”

  Taking the lead, he made his way up the stairs, Molly trailing behind him.

  After going inside her bedroom, Ryker placed the bags on the bed. “Open the silver one first.”

  She went over, sat down on the edge of the bed, picked up the silver bag, and reached in. She pulled out a beautiful, what looked to be, hand-carved box. She studied the carvings. They were words, only not in English.

  “This is gorgeous,” she said gazing up at him. “What is the language?”

  “Mandarin.”

  Molly traced one line of the carvings with her fingers. “What does it say?”

  “The power of submission does not lie by kneeling at my feet, or by wearing my collar, but can only be found within the heart of the woman who gives her heart freely to me.” She blinked, her eyes welling up with tears. “Open it, Molls.”

  She unlatched and lifted the lid. “This is,” she muttered, trying to find the words. The thin choker-looking necklace was stunning. “This is…lovely.” Molly plucked it up from the black satin, seeing the sparkle of the diamonds woven into and around a knot symbol.

  Ryker reached for her hand. “Stand up.” She did. He took the collar. “Lift your hair.”

  As soon as she lifted the wet strands, he placed the jewelry around her neck, locking it, and walked her by the hand over to the long, oval mirror standing in the corner. Gazing at her in the reflection he said, “It’s a day collar. By wearing this, you will be wearing my form of that ring you’ve always wanted on your finger, only it’s around your neck. This is my commitment to you, and your commitment to me for everyone to see.”

  Her heart thumped out a quick cadence, and those tears that were threatening, overflowed. She caressed her throat with her fingertips.

  “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Molly Anne Monroe.”

  Unable to hold back the emotion or the admission, she let something she’d always wanted to say lose from the prison of her tongue. “I love you, Ryker Zane Cage.”

  Bending down and placing his mouth by her ear, he said the words she’d waited her entire lifetime to hear. “I love you, too, Molls.”

  Molly was completely nude. The day collar had been removed, replaced by another, which had a thin platinum chain hooked into a metal ring at Molly’s throat—chain links tickling down between her breasts and trailing along her stomach.

  “Sit on the edge of your bed and spread your legs for me,” Ryker said.

  Heat rose up Molly’s throat and danced across her cheeks as she went to the bed and sat down, doing what he wanted. When she lifted her gaze, she reveled in the way Ryker’s sea-colored eyes flashed. He honed in on her exposed sex—the epitome of ravenous.

  “You have the most delicate little pussy, sweetheart.” Ryker went to his knees, kneeling between her legs, palms sliding up her calves, sending shivers over the entirety of her skin.

  “Aah, God, Ryker,” Molly said in a breath as he opened her with his thumbs and blew his warm breath over her before he swirled his tongue around and around her clit. “I thought we were going to get ready to go out.” She curled her fingers into the comforter, fisting.

  He chuckled, sending fire through her. “We are getting ready.”

  “We are?”

  “Uh huh,” he said, the buzz of his voice stroking her just as good as his tongue was.

  “I love your tongue.”

  “Mm. I know,” he said with that pure male confidence he possessed.

  When Molly started to shake, Ryker stopped his tonguing action and brushed his fingertip over her stimulated clitoris. Her eyelids closed.

  “I always want you wet and on the edge for me.” She jerked, eyes flying open, and let out a squeak when something, not his fingers, pinched the sensitive nub. “Shh….” he soothed.

  “What is that?”

  “Clamp,” he explained, attaching it to the chain dangling down past her belly button. Then Ryker kissed her inner thigh, and stood, holding out his hand for her. “Come on. It’s time to get dressed.”

  Surprise zipped along her being and joined the quiver of her body. “You want me to go out in public wearing this?”

  His smile was sinful. “I do.”

  She took his proffered hand, and stood, gasping from the tugging and tight pressure on her clit.

  “I don’t know about this, Ryker.”

  He palmed her cheek and skimmed the pad of his thumb along the swell of her lips. “Trust me. I’ll never give you more than you can handle.”

  ***

  The warm evening air tickled across the nape of Molly’s neck as she exited the car and walked alongside Ryker. He was dressed in delicious black slacks, Italian loafers, and a charcoal-gray button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up at the cuffs, looking sleek and powerful.

  She’d pulled her hair up in a loose chignon and wore Ryker’s presents. A slinky black, low-cut dress, black, red-soled Louboutins, and the collar, complete with the intimate accessory.

  Holding on to her man’s muscled arm, Molly was escorted into The Razor Club, only to be stopped and greeted by two burly guys. She glanced around. They were inside a fancy foyer with onyx chandeliers and a polished concrete floor.

  “Hey, Ryker,” one of the men who looked Samoan said. “Long time no see. Go on in.”

  “Thanks, Ice,” Ryker said.

  Ice nodded and crossed his arms over his massive chest.

  When they went through another set of doors, Ryker glanced down at her. “Nervous, sweetheart?”

  “Not really nervous. I’m just not sure what to expect.”

  “I brought you here because I want to show off my woman,” he said, hooking his finger through the ring on her collar, tugging. When she lifted up, he kissed her—hard and hot. A little mew of disappointment fell from her lips when he pulled back, and the movement had the body jewelry she was donning doing its job of driving her crazy, too. “If at any time you feel uncomfortable, tell me. I know this type of club is new to you, so we don’t have to stay.”

  Molly smiled. She wanted to see Ryker’s world. Be Ryker’s world. “I want to be here with you.”

  He tapped the tip of her nose. “Good.”

  Ryker walked Molly through the club, proud to have her on his arm. And the dress he bought for her fit all her curves, showing off that sweet body he owned.

  “Hey, man,” he greeted, as Syngen Sykes, the owner of the club and a longtime friend of Ryker’s, approached.

  “I heard rumors you were back in town, Ryke.” Syngen smiled at Molly. “Well, hello.”

  “Syn,” he said. “This is Molly Monroe.” Ryker brushed his knuckles across her cheek. She glanced up at him then back at Syn. “Molls. This is Syngen Sykes. He owns this club, and he’s a good friend of mine.”

  She gave him her pretty, sweet smile. “Hi. It’s nice to meet you.”

  Syn took her hand and placed a kiss to the top of her fingers. “The pleasure is all mine, darlin’.”

  “Hey now,” Ryker said, in a teasing tone. In truth, he wasn’t worried about Syn, not since he’d claimed and collared his woman. “Don’t be getting too friendly.”

  “Just being a gentleman, Ryke.”
/>   “Yeah. I know your type of gentlemanly, Syn.”

  “Ha!” he barked. “Then you know the ladies love me.” He winked at Molls. “Come on. I’ve got your table reserved.” Ryker and Molly followed Syn over to a crushed velvet, red banquette, which was secluded. “For you, drinks are on the house tonight. And the band I’ve got lined up is going to blow your socks off.”

  “Thanks, man. Great table.”

  “Anytime, Ryker.” Syn paused. “Is it true about Deck? I heard he’s getting married.”

  Ryker helped Molly take a seat, then scooted in close beside her. “Yeah. It’s true. He’s taking the plunge.”

  Syn shook his head, twisting his long, black goatee with his fingers. “I guess we all take a plunge in the deep end of the pool sooner or later.”

  Molly supposed Syn was an interesting soul. She took in his blue-black hair pulled back into a ponytail and imagined if he wore it loose, he’d look fierce. Both of his ears were pierced, a tattoo took up space on the side of his neck, and he was dressed in black leather pants, clunky boots, and a black almost completely unbuttoned shirt that showed off a hard chest and a stomach roped in muscle.

  As Ryker and Syn spoke, she took a closer look around what she could see of the club. In many ways, The Razor Club appeared to be just like any other Denver hot spot, with an extensive bar, a dance floor, and tables, except…. Her attention caught and held on a cage, and the woman in the cage who was naked, being intricately tied up by some man who was wearing linen-looking pants with a drawstring that hung low on his hips, and nothing else.

  Ryker must have caught her gaze, because he said, “Shibari.”

  “Huh?” She turned her head to see him looking at her, then noticed Syn was gone.

  “That form of rope bondage is called Shibari.” Molly returned her attention to the cage. “What do you think?”

  “The knots and designs are beautiful, but….”

  “But?”

  “She’s naked.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Marco only demonstrates the art with his wife.”

  Molly’s head whipped around, eyes wide, meeting Ryker’s stare for stare. “His wife?”

  “Yes.”

  “He doesn’t mind people are seeing her naked?”

  “Nope.”

  A tinge of panic struck her and she scowled.

  “What’s running through that mind of yours, Molls?”

  “Would you want people to see me that way?”

  Ryker brushed his knuckles across her jaw. “What do you think?”

  “I don’t know. I know you’re possessive and protective.”

  “So knowing that, do you think I’d want your body on display for anyone other than me?”

  “No.”

  “Right answer, sweetheart. I’m not into exhibition. Your body is mine, and only I get to see you without your clothes on.”

  Molly’s gaze went to the red velvet curtains where a slim, statuesque woman dressed in a skin-tight cat suit led a man by tugging on a leash attached to a collar around his neck. “Where are they going?”

  “The private play rooms.” Her eyebrows shot up. “Members of this club can utilize them.”

  Her mind was running wild. “When you say, play room. What does that mean?”

  “It’s a place to take your partner, or partners, and play by whatever means you wish to explore. Bondage, flogging, the sky’s the limit, depending on what you’re into.”

  “Do you want to take me to a play room?”

  “Yes. But not tonight.”

  “Not tonight?” she asked.

  “No, Molls. I want something else this evening.”

  She grinned, feeling her nerves settle. “Oh yeah? What do you want?”

  “You’ll see.”

  Her attention switched over to the stage in the distance. The drummer began rapping out a practice beat, while one of the guitar players strapped the electric instrument over his shoulder.

  “Sweetheart,” Ryker said.

  She met his gaze again. “Hmm?”

  “You look fucking fantastic tonight.”

  Her cheeks flushed hot. “Thank you.”

  He leaned over—his breath on her cheek causing her to chill. He’d turned her into fire and ice. “You’re welcome.” He mouthed her jaw. Stopped. Ran his fingertip over her lips. “By the second song, you’ll be coming for me.”

  What he said to her, and his right hand, which was meandering up her bare arm, had her quaking.

  Her man intended to be true to his words. The first song started, and Molly thought she was going to come when he reached for the chain hanging between her breasts and tugged—the doing elongating her clit.

  “Ah, God, Ryker.”

  “Damn,” he said in his low rumble, breath puffing against her neck. “Do you know how hard it makes me, knowing you wear nothing under this dress except a chain and clamp?” She didn’t think she could answer. Then she was struck mute when he sucked on her earlobe, and tugged the chain once more. “I like you blushing and squirming in your seat for me.” He nuzzled her cheek with his nose. “I want more.” He lifted the chain. Yanked. Her clit buzzed and throbbed.

  “Oh…my.”

  “That’s it. Squeeze those sexy thighs together.”

  Ryker pulled the chain. She’d never experienced anything even remotely similar to this before—heated spikes of pleasure bordering on pain.

  “I can’t.”

  “You can.”

  Tug. Tug.

  She shook her head. “It’s too much.”

  “It’s just enough, sweetheart.” She was coming undone, and he was so controlled as he undid her. “You wanted to know what I wanted tonight. Give me your mouth, Molls.”

  She lifted her head. He traced the swell of her top lip with the tip of his tongue before he said, “Do you feel the burn?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “The burn is good, isn’t it?”

  She nodded.

  “Tell me.”

  “Yes.”

  He let loose of the chain, it tickled between her breasts when he did, causing her erect nipples to pucker harder.

  The second song started. “Tell me you want to come, Molls.”

  Boy did she. She very well may implode.

  “I do. I-I want to come.”

  She felt his hand move to go under the table. Rest on her thigh. Squeeze. Inch up, up, up. His warm palm on her flesh. “Are you sure you want to come?”

  She nodded, biting her bottom lip.

  “I don’t know.” His fingers brushed her wet sex in a covert mission. “Maybe I should make you wait.”

  “No. Please, don’t.”

  He twisted the clamp a bit. She about came up out of her seat, sucking in a breath. Then, the pressure was gone, and blood rushed to the spot the device had been pinching. Oh, Lord. She was going to come right there in that booth.

  “Give it to me, Molly. Come,” he said, prior to kissing her long, hard, and deep, his finger slipping into her wet sex as she came apart, shaking, the heel of his hand pressing against her uber sensitive clit, listening to a heavy metal song grind out the beat of her climax on Ryker’s hand.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Present.

  Ryker woke before Molly did and took a moment to just revel in her. This was the first time in his life he actually slept with a woman, in a bed, all night. Oh, he’d had a lot of sex, never this though. And he wanted to sleep alongside her for the rest of his life. The realization should have caused him to fall back into his practiced habit of denial; however, he couldn’t deny how he felt about Molly any longer. He was a goner when it came to her. And the thing was, he didn’t even care. Not anymore. Being a goner and bat-shit crazy over this woman was freeing. Hell, a part of him wanted to get ahold of a loud speaker and tell the whole damn world he was in love with Molly Monroe—the girl next door.

  Seeing the gentle lift and fall of her back as she breathed, the corners of his mouth turned up. She was lying
on her side, sleeping soundly. He focused on her breathing, listening to the blessed sound. Ryker studied the way the early morning light shone in from the windows and highlighted the mussed silk of her hair, her long lashes, and the shadow they cast on top of her cheekbone. That smattering of freckles on the bridge of her nose. How she curled her fingers into the side of her pillow, and the pale skin of her bent bare knee, poking out from the coral-colored sheet.

  Caving into the need to touch her, he pulled the sheet back, maneuvered himself up behind her—his erection pressing against her fine ass—and moved her leg, bending her knee up more, then slipped a finger between those pouty lower lips and played.

  She moaned. Her eyelids fluttered. “Ryker,” she said in a sleep-hazed voice.

  “Shh…stay still for me, sweetheart, and let me make you come, nice and easy.”

  He swiped her hair aside, kissed the crook of her neck, and stroked her pussy, dipping a finger into her opening, gathering moisture, and going back to twirling and circling her clitoris until it stood hard and pebbled for him.

  “Mmm,” she muttered.

  Sucking on the side of her neck, he rubbed her. Did the glide and slide down, fingering, then slipped up again, feeling her tremble. When he inserted two fingers deep into her tightness, thumb pressing against her clit, he delighted in the warmth of her. How wet she got for him. The way her delicate inner muscles rippled along his probing digits. Ryker had her there, she was ready to go over.

  “I’m going to….”

  “Come, sweetheart.”

  Ryker took her shakes, listening to her sounds of pleasure, hooked his hand under her knee, lifting her leg, and entered her from behind, not fast, but slow, inch by inch, feeling the residual spasms of her climax flutter around his broad head, calling him forward into her heaven until he was balls deep, as far as he could go, and she was panting from his invasion.

  “You’re always hot, and tight,” he said into her ear, taking in the soft vanilla scent of her hair and skin. “You feel so good. I can’t get enough of you or those sounds you make for me, Molly.”