Midnight Ryde: A Bad Boy MC Romance

by Melissa Merit

  She winced ever so slightly.

  I was gripping my glass so tightly that my knuckles were a vibrant white.

  “And I just kind of feel like, since then it’s like guys can smell it on me. Like there’s something about me that says ‘this is Sara and she’s here to be the thing you destroy’.”

  She blinked.

  It was clear that she hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

  “Sorry,” she said, looking down and laughing. “That was too much information.”

  “Absolutely not,” I responded, slamming my glass down a little too aggressively.

  “Oh my god,” Sara said, hand flying to her mouth. She was staring at the glass, and at first I thought I had scared her. “Your hand,” she said, forcing me to look down.

  The glass had shattered, and there was a nice slash in my hand that was starting to bleed in earnest. Somehow, seeing the wound made it feel that much sharper.

  “Fuck,” I growled, looking at the bloody mess and feeling the bite of the alcohol on the wound for the first time.

  “Do you have a towel or bandages?” Sara asked, looking concerned.

  I probably looked like a rabid dog to her.

  “Towel,” I mumbled. “Bathroom, back there on the left,” I added, pointing with the hand that wasn’t pouring blood all over my table.

  Immediately, Sara sprung into action, making her way to the bathroom to help clean up the wound. Watching her ass swaying back and forth in those tight jeans had me aching in a completely different way.

  God, she was beautiful.

  Holding my hand still, I waited for her to return with a towel to wrap my hand. If she took any longer, I was going to have to risk getting blood on my carpet to see if she needed help. Fortunately, after a couple of minutes she came swaying back, a drunken, empathetic smile crossing her face.

  “Does it hurt?” she asked, kneeling in front of me and taking my hand into hers. She began gently mopping up the blood around the wound.

  “No,” I responded, sarcastically. “Feels great.”

  “Yeah, you seem like you’d be into that sort of thing,” Sara giggled. Her face was red with the flush of the alcohol in her system.

  Looking at her, I gave her an absolutely inappropriate grin.

  “And what would you know about what I’m into?” I asked, pressing my luck. The alcohol in my system urged me to keep going, and the view of her on her knees before me wasn’t helping.

  “I wouldn’t,” she said, with a playful smile. “Just a hunch.”

  “Traditionally,” I said, giving her a lazy smile, “I prefer to be the one causing the pain.”

  She bit her lip and chuckled, mouthing oh.

  Watching her wipe up my hand before wrapping the wound was interesting. Despite her clearly being intoxicated, her motions were clear and calculated as she treated the cut. All cleaned up, it didn’t look as bad, but it still hurt like a bitch.

  “You know,” I said, in a drunken drawl, “any guy would be a fucking moron not to be absolutely honored to be able to touch you.”

  Her throat twitched as she swallowed, letting the words sink in.

  “Anyone would be lucky to be able to touch you,” I continued, waiting for her to meet my gaze. Sara seemed to stiffen, only in the very slightest. My gut tightened in anticipation. Did I push too far? I was beginning to spin an apology in my mind when she looked up from my hand.

  “Well, what would you have done instead?” Sara asked, slowly raising her eyes to meet mine -- raising a challenge.

  I chuckled.

  Seven

  Sara

  The baritone throb of Ryder’s low chuckle drifted to my ears and hit home right between my legs. I shifted, daring to match his gaze.

  His green eyes bore into me with all the charm of a snake whispering promises of enigmatic knowledge. Something told me I was going to be cast out of Eden by the end of the night.

  As the bourbon danced through my system, I found my resolve slipping away. Free of inhibitions, I was ready and willing to fall from grace.

  Ryder moved quickly, grabbing my chin firmly in his hand.

  My body was frozen as his eyes pierced mine. When he spoke, his voice was low and thick with intoxication.

  “If you had been sent my way at the bar, I wouldn’t have had to force myself on you in the shadows,” he drawled, grinning. “I wouldn’t have had to trail after you like some starving mutt.” He chuckled again, as if the very idea of having to chase after me was absurd.

  Dick, I thought, just in time to wonder how big his was.

  “And why is that?” I asked, forcing myself to match his grin with a challenging smile of my own. He wasn't the only one who could play games.

  Something told me that if I challenged him, I would lose. Something else told me I would greatly enjoy my loss at his hands.

  “Because if you had been brought to me, you would have been begging me to take you in the back of the bar,” he said with a cocky laugh that raked down my spine.

  It might have been the words. It might have been the laugh or the entitled little grin that was perpetually plastered across his face but somehow softened by a genuine kindness. It could have been any of those things, or all of them, but I was drunk and absolutely and unforgivably turned on. Whatever was happening, I needed more of it.

  “You’re mighty presumptuous,” I heard myself say, as if I wasn’t already imagining what it would have been like, skin to skin, feeling him move inside me in a dimly fluorescent-lit, quiet corner of that disgusting dive.

  “Is that so?” Ryder asked, giving me an amused smile. He raised both eyebrows in a look that distinctly said bullshit.

  God, I was in so much trouble and it felt amazing.

  “Yeah,” I said, pulling my head back from his grasp, unable to miss the way his eyes trailed down my exposed throat. “I don’t know what makes you so certain that I’d be interested in you at all.”

  The low laugh that emanated from his throat let me know that I was about to pay for the words I had just dared to utter.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice thick with condescension and tantalizing menace. “What was that?” His gaze redirected from scanning my body, which was already bowing towards his touch. His eye landed on me like there were crosshairs printed across my face and he was about to pull the trigger.

  Oh, shit.

  “Oh,” I said, wrinkling my nose and mirroring his condescension right back, emboldened by the alcohol. “I’m sorry, did I say something too difficult for you to understand?”

  “Sara,” he hissed his warning, staring down at me.

  I fought the shiver that tore through my body in response to his tone, but the smile on his face told me that he knew exactly what an effect his utterance had upon me. In some bourbon-fueled, practically meditative state, I was hyper-aware of every muscle of mine that tensed when he spoke. This was like lightning.

  “What?” I said, feigning wide-eyed innocence, before taking another sip of my bourbon. I couldn’t stop the smile from creeping across my face as my lips met the edge of the glass.

  I was playing with fire and I really, really wanted to get burned.

  “You should probably finish that,” Ryder said, nodding his head to indicate to the glass in my hand.

  As I pulled the glass away from my lips, I used the tip of my finger to delicately wipe away the lingering liquid. “Why’s that?” I said, biting my lip and smirking.

  Ryder looked like he wanted to devour me. And I wanted him too.

  “Because at least then you’ll have part of an excuse for why you’re begging me to fuck you later,” he said. His tone of voice said it was a threat. A delicious threat.

  My face flushed, and I couldn’t help but look down.

  The idea of him making me beg to have him was unbelievably erotic, but I was having a little too much fun taunting the beast. Part of me wanted to see how long it would take for him to snap. A bigger part of me wanted to know what woul
d happen when he did.

  “It’s so cute that you think you can make me beg,” I responded, mirroring his lazy grin. My eyes met his and I felt my heart skip a beat.

  His gaze was absolutely and deliciously feral.

  “You have five seconds to apologize,” he said, firmly. “If you don’t, then when you’re begging later on, I can assure you that the answer to your pleas will be a stern and resounding no.”

  My stomach fluttered pathetically. There was a growing heat between my thighs.

  Ryder grinned, evidently aware of his effect on me. My body was traitorous, I couldn’t believe how pliable I was prepared to be for him.

  “I—,” I began, “Am so sorry that you have to live knowing that you couldn’t make me beg if you tried.”

  The second the words were out of my mouth, Ryder sprung into motion and I knew I was about to find out what happened when he finally snapped.

  A shriek fell from my lips as Ryder grabbed me, effortlessly throwing me over his shoulder with his uninjured hand as he stood up from his spot on the chair before me.

  “Put me down, you mongrel!” I commanded, putting more effort into pretending to struggle than into actually struggling.

  My command was met with a firm smack square across my ass.

  I yelped. Fuck. I could feel how the stinging was calling my blood to the site… As if I needed any more circulation down there.

  Ryder laughed darkly.

  “You do not tell me what to do, and you’re sure as not going to resort to name calling,” he said, making his way up the hall, past the bathroom where I had just been.

  I knew where we were going immediately.

  Surely before long I would know if he could actually make me beg. I was really, really hoping that he could.

  The sensation of being upside-down was working in earnest with the alcohol in my system to really amplify exactly how out of control I was feeling, though I had a not-so-sneaking suspicion that was Ryder’s intent all along. I was surprised to discover how willing I was for Ryder to exert his power over me. I watched as he kicked open his bedroom door, carrying me into the dark room.

  The force of it made brought me to a wet heat. For a split second, I anticipated the embarrassment I was about to feel when he discovered just how far gone I was.

  Ryder unceremoniously hurled me through the air. A strangled cry of disorientation tore its way from my lips as I felt gravity pull me down, down, down.

  When my body finally hit Ryder’s bed, I leaned into it, allowing the temporary stability of the bed’s embrace to ground me while I waited to find out what Ryder had planned next.

  Another flick of a switch, and the room exploded with light.

  There was no more hiding at this point. I was splayed across Ryder’s bed, ready to find out if he would make good on his earlier threats. My thighs involuntarily clenched at the thought of it.

  When I was finally brave enough, I looked in Ryder’s direction.

  His form filled the doorway, and he was just watching me with a smirk spread across his face that suggested I might very well be in trouble, indeed.

  “Comfortable?” Ryder said, keeping his post in the doorway as his eyes picked apart my body, scanning each component with absolutely no shame.

  “Quite,” I said, stretching in a way that deliberately arched my back, pressing my breasts high into the air. If I was going to be on the dissection table, I might as well have a little fun.

  “That’s good,” Ryder said, with a suspicious amount of normality. “That’s really good.”

  “Were you planning on joining me?” I said, flashing him another challenging smile.

  “Oh, no,” Ryder replied. “You’re not even close to getting what you want, but I am mighty close to getting exactly what I want.”

  My stomach flipped and I found my lower lip being locked between my teeth for what felt like the hundredth time tonight. The effect Ryder had on my body without even touching me was amazing and terrible. I was definitely ready to find out what kind of effect he could have on me if he actually used his hands… among other things.

  “Yeah?” I said, the look in his eye spurring me boldness. Ryder was absolutely welcome to play hard to get, but even he couldn’t override the fact that he was looking at me as if I was the greatest feast he’d ever laid eyes on. I was about to be devoured. “How do you figure?” I asked, coyly.

  Another painfully sexy and threatening laugh. Another moment of me debating if I should keep letting him play his game, or start making some demands of my own.

  “Strip,” he said, and there was absolutely no doubt that this was a command, not a request. Everything about his delivery said that he expected me to do just that.

  And, I wanted to. God, I wanted to.

  The problem was that a nagging part of my mind didn’t want to give up the control. I had spent so long bending to the ways of the men I was with, and I just wasn’t sure if I wanted to do it anymore. It always seemed comfortable at first, but eventually the men always went crazy with the power they had been given. They always took more than they ever gave.

  Could I ever be truly safe with Ryder if I gave up my power?

  Eight

  Ryder

  Watching Sara as she wrestled with the idea of accepting my command was conflicting for me as well. Clearly, she had her own qualms about the situation, and yet every component of her body language seemed to be begging for my presence.

  Sara’s legs were spread. Her neck was exposed.

  It was taking every ounce of my self control not to give her the satisfaction of getting me hard. It was a firm lesson in patience, but the second she submitted to me, I was absolutely going to make her pay for keeping me waiting. Each second that passed without her complying was going to equate to several minutes of grueling torture for her.

  When she still hadn’t moved after a minute, I decided that it was time for her to make a decision on the outcome of the night. Of course, she would learn later on that making decisions at all was an honor she would not be be given often.

  “Sara,” I said, keeping my voice low and firm. I swear to fucking god her body twitched in response to her name on my lips.

  Her eyes raised to meet me, for a minute betraying every ounce of vulnerability that she felt.

  “You have options,” I said in the same silky tone.

  “Do I?” She asked, finally seeming to get her wits about her. The challenge in her tone told me she was more than ready to keep playing.

  “Mhmm,” I said, a menacing grin spreading across my face. “You can either sleep on the couch, or you can sleep in here.”

  I watched as her mind turned over the idea, finding it immediately obvious that she wasn’t going to leave.

  “Of course,” I continued in my drunken drawl. “If you sleep in my bed, you have to follow my rules.”

  Sara’s response to my words was nothing short of visceral. Her face flushed, her eyes closed as she held her breath for just a second too long, and her thighs pressed together ever so slightly, making me realize that I was going to have a lot of fun playing between them.

  “What are the rules?” she said, finally, daring to meet my gaze. Her cheeks were a gentle flush of crimson.

  It was going to be fun breaking her, I could tell.

  “If you stay in this bed, you follow any and all commands that I give,” I said, steeling my face into a firm and expectant stare.

  “What if I don’t?” Sara asked, clearly trying to find the boundaries that I would absolutely be setting in place for her soon.

  “Then you will accept the punishment for your actions,” I said, lowering my voice and chuckling. She seemed to like that.

  The gentle shift in her body told me I was correct.

  “So, what’s it going to be?” I asked, leaning against the door frame, as if I didn’t already know that she would be spending the night shaking and begging me to fuck her.

  She bit her damned lip again, and I was once
again using all of my power not to get hard. I didn’t want her thinking that she had any control over me in this moment.

  “Thought so,” I said, my voice full of condescension. “Now strip, Sara,” I commanded.

  Her body shook ever so slightly.

  I was going to really enjoy making her writhe underneath me.

  The look on her face as she resigned herself to obeying me was fucking amazing. The conflict shifted to a nervous freedom as she reached down to unbutton her pants. I had no doubt that she had that same hesitation when she reached down to fuck herself alone in her bedroom.

  We would fix that, of course.

  The gentle shaking of her hands as she complied, pulling her jeans down to reveal cute cotton panties. The fact that she clearly hadn’t been planning on being fucked tonight made me want her that much more. The sight of her quivering thighs as she willingly exposed herself to me was almost too much.

  As she moved to remove her top, I was more than ready to take her right then and there. Even the amount of cleavage her shirt had shown did nothing to portray how beautiful and perfectly round her tits were in the black bra she was wearing.

  It looked like a pretty basic bra, which was good, because I already loved the idea of tearing it off of her and forcing her to roam around my apartment without anything underneath her clothes. Of course, that was assuming I even let her wear any clothes.

  “Fold your clothes and put them on the dresser,” I commanded. I wanted to see her from all angles. In the future, she would learn that when I said to strip, I meant her ass better be naked in the next thirty seconds, but I was willing to let this transgression slide.

  There was plenty of time to teach her the rules later.

  Sara said nothing, but she sat up. Her chest fluttered with hollow, short breaths as she moved to sit up and fold her clothes. I was glad that she was complying. It meant that she was accepting the power dynamic I wanted between us.

  After her clothes were neatly folded by her shaking hands, she stood to go place them on the dresser. I sucked in a sharp breath through my teeth. If the image of her in her panties splayed across my bed wasn’t enough, the view of her perfect ass as she padded across my room to follow my orders had my ready to bend her over the dresser and fuck her until she passed out.