I walked into the kitchen, and Alfonso and I stood at the bar, watching what was going on in the living room. They were talking quietly enough to her that I couldn’t hear them, but I could read Brandy’s lips as she spoke, and so far, she was confirming everything I’d already told them.
When they questioned her bruises, I clenched my jaw. Alfonso gripped my shoulder. “Not now, bro,” he quietly warned me. “Let her handle this.”
My boyfriend and I like . . . kinkier things, Brandy told him, her cheeks flushing. We have a contract drawn up, if you’d like to see that.
And we did. I’d forced her to sign it so that if I went too far and seriously hurt her, she could fuck me over seven ways to fucking Sunday to get her revenge on me. I might have tied her down, but if I seriously hurt her, I didn’t want to be part of her life. I didn’t deserve a place in it if I did that.
The officers stood a few minutes later and shook her hand before coming into the kitchen and shaking mine. “Thank you for your time,” they told me.
I nodded once, watching them walk out the door. I waited until they were in their car and leaving before I walked over to Brandy, flipped her onto her stomach, and sank inside of her. I ran my hands over the scars on her torso as I rocked in and out of her.
“Don’t you ever fucking feel ashamed of these,” I growled in her ear.
She moaned. “I never am,” she assured me. “These scars kept me alive.” She looked over her shoulder at me. “You keep me alive, Ryker.”
I pressed kisses to her upper back. “I’m so fucking proud of you,” I told her. “Turning into me now, Little Star.”
She whimpered. “Fuck me, Ryker.”
She sure as fuck didn’t have to beg me twice. As Alfonso got himself off watching us, I drilled into my sweet little monster, fucking her to the point she eventually fell asleep on the couch, curled up beneath the blanket.