"I need to grab some limes," I tell Mike as I pass him. He nods, none the wiser.
The storage room is small and dimly lit, stacked with boxes of liquor and bar supplies. The door has barely closed behind me when Ryker is there, spinning me to face him, backing me against the wall.
"You knew exactly what you were doing tonight," he growls, one hand gripping my hip, the other braced beside my head. "Wearing this." He tugs at my crop top. "Bending over the bar. Teasing me."
I should be intimidated by his size, by the raw possession in his eyes. Instead, I'm exhilarated. "Maybe I wanted to see what you'd do."
"This," he snarls, his mouth crashing down on mine. "This is what I do."
The kiss is bruising, consuming. His tongue claims my mouth the way his body has claimed the rest of me—thoroughly, possessively. I melt into him, arms winding around his neck.
In one swift movement, he lifts me, turning to set me on a stack of empty crates. His hands push my skirt up around my waist, revealing the tiny black thong beneath.
"Fucking hell," he groans, fingers hooking in the thin fabric. "You wore this for me?"
"Only you," I gasp as he tears the flimsy material away. "Always you."
He unbuckles his belt, frees himself with desperate urgency. "Spread your legs for Daddy," he commands, his voice dropping to that register that makes me instantly wet.
I comply, letting my thighs fall open. He steps between them, the head of his cock nudging my entrance. "Look at you," he murmurs, suddenly tender despite his urgency. "So fucking perfect. My princess."
Then he's pushing inside, filling me completely in one hard thrust. I have to bite my lip to keep from crying out as pleasure-pain radiates through me.
“Driving me crazy seeing all these other motherfuckers looking at you,” he grunts, setting a punishing pace immediately. “Making daddy so jealous. Making him want to kill every man in sight.”
His hands grip my hips hard enough to bruise, pulling me into each thrust. The crates beneath me scrape against the floor with the force of his movements.
"Who does this pussy belong to?" he demands, one hand sliding up to grip my throat lightly.
"You," I gasp, clinging to his shoulders. "Only you, Ryker."
"And who am I?" His thumb brushes my lower lip.
"Daddy," I whimper, the word falling naturally now. "My Daddy."
He groans, thrusting deeper. "That's right, little girl. And don't you forget it." His pace quickens, becoming almost brutal. "Gonna knock you up right here, princess. Fill you so full of my cum everyone will know who you belong to. You’re going to leave this room with cum dripping down those pretty little legs. Let those motherfuckers see that.”
The filthy words send sparks racing up my spine. My body tightens around him as I get close.
"That man out there," Ryker growls, his thumb finding my clit. "Thought he could touch what's mine. Should've seen what I wanted to do to him."
"Yours," I pant, riding the edge of orgasm. "Only yours."
"Come for me," he commands, circling my clit faster. "Come on Daddy's cock like a good girl."
The orgasm hits me like a freight train. I bury my face against his shoulder to muffle my scream as pleasure shatters me. My inner walls clamp down on him, triggering his own release. He drives in to the hilt with a stifled roar, pulsing inside me, marking me from within.
For long moments afterward, we stay frozen—me perched on the crates, him buried inside me, both of us panting. His forehead drops to mine, a surprising tenderness after such primal claiming.
"You drive me fucking crazy," he murmurs, placing gentle kisses across my face.
I smile, feeling thoroughly claimed, gloriously owned. "That was kind of the point."
He helps me down, steadying me when my legs wobble. With surprising gentleness, he produces a handkerchief from his pocket and cleans between my thighs.
"Your underwear's a casualty," he says with a smirk, pocketing the torn thong.
"Worth it," I reply, smoothing my skirt down.
