Page 26 of Ripple Effect, Vol. 3

We’re away from the crowd, and when the wall hits my back, waves of panic shoot up my spine along with the pain. A sinister smile stretches across his face and he presses into my arms. “I told you, if you want to stay, there’s only one way, babe.”

Anger gets the best of me, and I spit in his face, reveling as the glisten of saliva oozes down his cheek.

His lip peels back and he whispers, “I’ve had just about enough of your shit.”

A sting hits the back of my head and the unforgiving concrete crashes into my kneecaps as he pushes me down to the floor.

Gripping tight to his forearm, I try to break his hold on me, and bite into his flesh. White-hot pain lashes my cheek as he smacks my face, rattling my teeth. “Little bitch!” he growls, going to work on his zipper.

“I’ll leave! I’ll fucking leave!” I scream, pushing myself to a stand, and he knocks me back to the floor.

“Babe, you’re not going anywhere until I come all over that pretty face.”

Abandoning my hold of his wrist, I curl my hand to a fist and aim for his nuts, a move he blocks, and another crack against my cheek kicks my head to the side.

I don’t even see the massive body coming in like a freight train from the left until flames lick my scalp where my hair is tugged and the man in front of me flies across the floor. I fall back onto my ass, into the wall, and catch sight of Ripley on top of the man, fist drawn back as he hammers a punch, and another, and another.

He drags the man to his feet and slams him against the wall so hard, a picture pops off its hook at the other end of the corridor and the pound echoes down the hall. Madness consumes him—a complete contrast to the calm and cool persona I imagine when he kills. Like this is his violent doppelganger. The unrestrained rager that the girls in the back told me about.

The fighter.

“I didn’t know she was with you, Rip!” The man in his grip rasps against the hold at his throat. “I didn’t know! Fuck, man, I’m sorry!”

“She’s mine! Fucking mine!” Ripley doesn’t relent, and I’m certain he plans to kill him. A big guy with blond hair places a hand on his shoulder, but Ripley pushes at him, unwilling to let the other go.

I can’t stand by and watch him kill the man. As much of an asshole as the bouncer was, he doesn’t deserve to die. Not like this.

I push to my feet and place my hand on Ripley’s bicep, watching his jaw clench. The man pinned to the wall is bloodied and blinking slowly, his eyelids heavy as air slips away.

“Ripley,” I say in a calm, level voice. “I’m okay.”

He breaks from his trance, glancing down to me and back to the man, before he releases him. Like a sack of bricks, the man’s body slumps to the floor and one of the bouncers lurches forward, laying him flat on his back.

Chest heaving, nostrils flaring like a bull seeing red, Ripley stares down at him, eyes wild with fury, as if he’s still contemplating murder.

With a gentle nudge of his jaw, I guide his face to mine. “It’s okay. Calm down.”

He glances upward, beyond me, and I follow the path of his gaze to the cameras.

“Fuck,” he mutters, tugging my arm to follow him toward the elevators. He leaves a crowd in our wake, and once we’re inside the elevator, he punches the basement level button. The second the door closes, Ripley’s on me, backing me into one of the mirrored walls behind me. His lips are frantic on mine, and within seconds, my dress is hiked up to my thighs, panties pushed to the side with his fingers knuckle-deep inside of me.

I groan with the ache of my jaw where I was hit and the torment of Ripley’s fingers, my body still locked in a rush of adrenaline, while he pumps them in and out.

“Is this what you went out there looking for?” His words are lightning, rumbling inside my mouth, charged with the rage that stiffens his muscles.

I push into his chest, confusion swirling inside my head as I stare into angry eyes. “What did you just say?”

The elevator dings, and before it comes to a halt, Ripley presses the stop button, leaving us suspended somewhere between floors.

When he swings back around, there’s fury in his eyes, mean and irrational. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. Every limp dick in this place has had his eyes on you since we walked in and you know it.”

“I didn’t know it, actually. And you’re a fucking lunatic. You think I asked for that? You’re insane!” I slam my hands into his chest, shoving at him, and he flattens me against the wall.

“You belong to me, Dylan. Me! I’m paying for you. Not them.”

“You don’t own me, Ripley!” I scream, smacking him across the face. “Fuck you!”

Trapping both of my wrists in his grip, he yanks me into him, slamming his lips against mine. His kiss is possessive and powerful, drawing me in, even as I push against his chest to break away.