The Ritual

Removing my hand from her mouth, I sit up and hold her face in both of my hands. She’s gasping for breath. “Look at me,” I order.

Her eyes are once again unfocused, and tears freely fall from the corners of them. “What do you say, little one?” I ask, wiping them away.

She blinks, her pretty eyes finding mine.

“Do you want to be his whore for the rest of your life, or do you want to be my good girl?” This is her only chance to choose me. I have no problem tricking or forcing her to be my wife. But her choosing to be with me over him makes it all that better.

“Yours,” she breathes.

“Mine,” I agree.

I pull out and her arms fall to her sides. She’s weak, her body still trying to come down from her high. Flipping her over onto her stomach, I yank her hips up in the air, spreading her legs wide with mine. Sliding back into her soaking wet cunt, I pull her up to where she’s straddling me backward. I reach around, grabbing her breasts with one hand, making her moan. Her head falls back onto my chest while my other hand comes up and covers her mouth once again, my fingers pinching off her nose, and I fuck her, making the bed hit the wall.

It doesn’t take long for her to go slack this time, her body already exhausted. It only takes me a few more thrusts, and then I’m coming inside her.

I remove my hand from her face, and she sucks in a deep breath, her body still slack against mine. I gently lay her down and push her onto her back, propping her head up on the pillow before getting off the bed. I go over to my backpack and pull out the box. Opening it up, I remove the six carat princess cut engagement ring that I purchased while in New York yesterday, and slide it onto her finger. “Here’s to being mine forever, Blake,” I say, watching her sleep.

BLAKELY

I OPEN MY heavy eyes to see it’s dark in my room. Whimpering, I stretch and feel the soreness in my body. I just lie here, looking up at the ceiling, and I hear the sound of rain hitting the window.

It’s hard to explain, but I almost feel like a new person. I have never come so hard in my life. It felt like I was floating. Dots peppered my vision, and just when I thought I was going to pass out, he’d let go, and everything would come crashing back. Every inch of my body was tingling. It was like the best high you could reach without actually being on drugs.

Even now, my body still lightly tingles. As if a fire that can’t be put out still lingers.

Deciding I need to get up, I push off the covers and walk on shaky legs to the door. Opening it up, I find Ryat sitting on the couch, his cell to his ear. His emerald eyes spot me immediately. “I’ll call you back.” He hangs up, not even bothering to wait for the person on the other end to say goodbye. He stands and walks over to me while I stay in the doorway, unsure my legs will support me to walk that far to him.

Coming up to me, he kisses my forehead.

“What time is it?” I ask. My phone wasn’t on my nightstand.

“A little after two in the afternoon.”

I frown. “I missed classes.” Was that his plan all along?

He nods. “You needed the rest.”

“Ryat,” I growl. My hands shove him, but he doesn’t move. I’m not sure if it’s because my body is weak as fuck or because he is just that strong. “My mom will kill me.” Turning around, I make my way through my room and to the bathroom. I get a little dizzy and have to use the countertop for support. It’s comparable to when you stand quickly out of a hot bath, and you get light-headed while seeing dots.

“It’s fine,” he argues, coming in behind me.

“That’s easy for you to say,” I snap, picking up my underwear off the countertop from earlier. I go to put them on, but he yanks them from my hand.

“Ryat!” I shriek, reaching out for them, but he tosses them across the bathroom.

I sigh. “Real mature.” He grabs my arm and spins me around when I go to get them, pushing my back into the wall. “Ryat …”

“Calm down,” he says softly, his eyes searching my face. “You’re getting all worked up over nothing.”

“My mom—”

“Fuck your mother,” he interrupts me with a growl.

I feel like a child wanting to stomp their foot. “You don’t understand.”

“I understand everything. Your mom thinks she can control you.”

“She does,” I say through gritted teeth hating to admit that. “She pays for this apartment.”