Chapter 6 Chapter 6: Ryder is soo good.

Freya’s POV

I stood up suddenly, legs shaky but determined.

Before he could pull away completely, I surged forward and kissed him deeply, hungry, and desperate. My lips crashed into his like I was trying to swallow the last of my dignity along with him.

For one stunned second he didn’t move as if he was still trying to process what's going on.

Then suddenly, he kissed me back hard.

His mouth claimed mine like punishment. One hand fisted in my wet hair, yanking my head back so he could angle deeper, tongue sweeping in without asking permission. The other arm banded around my waist, hauling me flush against him until I could feel every rigid inch of his body pressed to mine.

I moaned into his mouth. He growled in response—low, and dangerous, the sound vibrating straight down my spine, and settling between my legs.

I tugged at the hem of his shirt. He let me rip it off in one rough motion. No bra underneath. My small, firm breasts spilled free, nipples already painfully hard from the cold fabric and the heat of his stare.

His gaze dropped to my chest. There wasn't an inch of guilt or  hesitation in his eyes. Just raw, and predatory hunger. His eyes darkened to black, pupils swallowing everything else.

He lowered his head and took one nipple into his mouth without gentleness, no testing. He sucked hard, teeth scraping immediately, pulling a sharp cry from my throat.

“Ahh… fuck…” This man is so good. What is he made of?

He didn’t soothe. He bit harder again, then sucked with punishing force while his hand gripped the other breast, squeezing roughly, thumb and forefinger pinching the nipple until I arched off the wall.

My hands flew to his hair, tugging. My back bowed, offering more.

“Ryder—”

He switched to the other breast, giving it the same ruthless treatment. One hand slid up my ribs, kneading firmly while his mouth devoured me.

I was shaking.

After a minute I couldn’t take it anymore. I pulled back, breathless, chest heaving.

“Touch me,” I begged. “Please.”

His dark eyes locked on mine.

He didn’t speak. His lips curved into a dark evil smile that sent a shiver down my spine. What was that?

Before I could think further, he pushed one large palm down my stomach, fingers dipping beneath the rolled waistband of his sweatpants I was wearing. They brushed the lace of my soaked panties.

I whimpered when he cupped me fully through the fabric, the heel of his hand pressing right against my clit.

“More,” I whispered.

He bent suddenly, hooked his fingers in the lace, and yanked the panties down my thighs in one brutal tug. They tangled at my knees. I kicked them off.

Then he dropped to one knee.

Before I could process it, his mouth was on me.

Hot. Wet. Ruthless.

He sucked my clit straight into his mouth—no teasing, no gentle buildup. Just hard, pulsing suction that made my vision white out.

I cried out, hands flying to his shoulders for balance.

He didn’t relent.

Tongue flicked fast, then slow circles, then flat licks that dragged from my entrance to the swollen bud. One thick finger slid inside me—then two—curling deep, stroking that spot that made my legs shake.

I was moaning—loud, broken sounds I couldn’t control.

“Ryder—oh god—”

He growled against me, the vibration sending me spiraling.

I came hard—shattering, thighs clamping around his head, hips bucking against his face as wave after wave ripped through me. He didn’t stop until I was trembling, overstimulated, gasping for air.

Then, he pulled back abruptly.

The moment he did that, a sharp, hollow disappointment sliced through me—cold and immediate—like someone had yanked the air from my lungs right when I was finally breathing again.

I was still trembling from the orgasm, walls fluttering around nothing, aching for the stretch and fullness that had just been there. The sudden emptiness felt wrong, unfair, like a promise broken mid-sentence. I needed him back inside me, deeper and longer, anything to keep that delicious pressure from fading.

I whimpered involuntarily, hips twitching toward him on instinct, chasing what he’d taken away.

“What happened?” I breathed, voice small and wrecked, almost pleading. “Why did you stop?”

He stood, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, turned away from me and slammed his palm against the wall so hard the mirror rattled.

“What the fuck am I doing?”

His voice was low, ragged, furious at himself.

“This is wrong.” He dragged a hand down his face. “You’re making me go fucking crazy right now. We shouldn’t be doing this. You’re my stepson’s fiancée, for Christ’s sake.”

I was still leaning against the wall, legs trembling, chest heaving, panties around my ankles.

“I know,” I said, voice hoarse. “That’s why it feels so good.”

I pushed off the wall, stepped out of the ruined panties, closed the distance until I was inches from him again.

“Just fuck me already,” I whispered. “He cheated first. This shouldn’t be a problem.”

He turned slowly.

His eyes were dangerously cold.

“Is that the reason you decided to seduce me?” he asked, voice dropping to that deep, gravel-rough tone that carried steel. “Because he cheated? Because you want to hurt him back?”

I didn’t move.

“Yes,” I admitted. “And because I want you.”

He stared at me for a for some seconds before speaking up again.

“I’m his stepdad. Do you even know what you’re asking for is dangerous?”

I closed the last inch between us, pressing my bare breasts against his chest, letting him feel how hard my nipples still were.

“I know exactly what I’m asking for,” I whispered, lips brushing the underside of his jaw. “I might seem pathetic to you right now but I don't give a damn about it. All i want you to fuck me hard. Until I can’t remember his name. Until I can’t remember anything except from your sweet dick.”

His expression shifted for some seconds. His jaw clenched so hard a muscle ticked in his cheek.

“You’re hurt,” he said, voice lethal. “You’re emotional. This isn’t happening.”

Then he turned to leave.

But before he could take a step, I immediately reached out, my fingertips brushing the hard plane of his abdomen. He tensed, every ridge of muscle locking under my touch. I dragged my nails lightly downward, following that dark trail of hair until my fingers hooked the waistband of his trousers.

“Please don’t go,” I said.

His hand caught my wrist in one massive grip—firm, unbreakable, but not painful.

“Last warning, little girl.” His voice was pure gravel now, edged with something lethal. “Walk away. Go take a hot shower. Sleep it off. Because if you keep pushing, I won’t be gentle. I don’t do it gently. And I don’t stop once I start.”

The threat should have scared me.

Instead it sent a fresh gush of wetness between my legs. My clit throbbed in time with my heartbeat.

I leaned in, pressing my breasts harder against his chest, rising on my toes to brush my lips along his jaw.

“Then don’t stop,” I murmured against his skin. “Ruin me.”

That was the moment something in him snapped.

He didn’t kiss me.

He didn’t ease me down.

He grabbed me by the hips, spun me, and shoved me face-first against the nearest wall. The impact jarred a gasp from my lungs. One thick forearm braced beside my head, caging me in. His other hand yanked the T-shirt up to my waist, exposing me completely.

“You want to be fucked like you’re nothing?” His voice was low, lethal, right against my ear. “Fine.”