The Ritual

“Get up, Blake. And get your ass down here. Now,” he commands, his playful tone long gone, before hanging up.

Dropping my phone to the bed, I jump up on wobbly legs and rush to the bathroom. I quickly brush my teeth and swish some mouthwash around to try to get rid of the lingering taste of the rum and Cokes. Then I throw on one of his T-shirts with a pair of underwear, not wanting to go down there naked. We’re obviously alone, but I prefer to have something on instead of walking through the club naked. Plus, I don’t even know where down here is. I’m going to have to find him.

Opening the apartment door, I softly pull the door shut without allowing it to latch because he has a key, but I don’t. I make my way down the single hallway to the elevator at the end and step inside when it immediately opens up for me. I press the bottom floor and silently wait for it to open.

I wring my hands in the shirt. They’re getting sweaty. I’m nervous because you never know what Ryat will want. Especially here. Like is he planning on fucking me on the dance floor? Bent over the bar? What about on the stage where the bands perform for special events?

The elevator comes to a stop, and the door slides open. “Oh Lord” by In This Moment starts playing. Listening to the words, knowing I’m about to give my Lord whatever he wants, makes the lyrics even sexier. Something tells me he picked this song as a warning. The flashing neon lights are on as if the club is open, but it’s different being here when no one else is.

Stepping onto the dance floor, I look around at the empty bar and chairs that round the tables. “Ryat?” I shout over the music. It’s louder than normal, at least I think so. Maybe that’s the start of a hangover coming on.

Patting down the shirt, I realize I left my cell phone upstairs in the bed. “Well, shit,” I hiss. When I look up, I throw my hair over my shoulder, and my pulse quickens at what I see sitting back in a corner booth.

It’s darker, the lights not hitting in the spot, but I can still make out the body that sits there. He’s dressed in a black cloak, and my thighs tighten when I see the white on his face—he’s got his mask on.

He wants to fucking play!

The thought makes the blood rush in my ears in anticipation. The song comes to a stop and changes to “All The Time” by Jeremih and Lil Wayne, and I watch him slowly slide out of the booth, then step down onto the dance floor.

I take a step back, and he stands there, tilting his head to the side. He reaches his right hand out and grabs something off the table. His hand falls to his side, and the lights bounce off the metal—handcuffs.

Fuck! My body starts humming even though I’m having trouble catching my breath now. Noticing something else in his hand, it looks like a black leather belt of some sort. No, that can’t be what it is. It’s too hard to see with the lights constantly flashing.

I keep trying to blink, to try to focus, but in the next second, I realize he’s been walking toward me this entire time, and he’s getting closer. Taking a step back, he comes to a stop.

It’s a dance. Who’s going to move first? My heart is racing, and my palms sweaty. I want him to chase me. That’s what I like, and he knows it. And he likes to drag me back to him.

So, I give us what we both want. I turn and run like hell, knowing he’s going to catch me.

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

RYAT

RUNNING UP BEHIND her, I reach out and grab a handful of her hair, yanking her to a stop.

Her voice rings out through the empty club over the music. “Not fast enough.” I growl in her ear then shove her into the side of the bar. Her hands slap the top, and I grab them, yanking them behind her back and cuff them in place, making sure they’re nice and tight just how my girl likes them.

Then I yank her to stand, spin her around, and throw her over my shoulder. She whimpers at the position, and I start carrying her off to the door at the end of the hall.

I knew exactly what to say to my wife to get her to come down here. I’ve watched her reactions, paid attention to how her body responds to me and the things I do to her. My girl has a praise kink. I noticed it before, but today, I felt the way her body melted into the side of mine when we were in Ty’s office, and he praised the woman for swallowing.