The Ritual

Looking away from him, I feel tears start to sting my eyes again with shame. “I …” That lump returns, and I can’t seem to swallow it down.

He grips my chin gently and forces me to look over at him. “What?”

“I just don’t want the choice,” I whisper. My body likes to be dominated. However he wants to do that is okay. It’s terrifying but also exciting. To me, giving him the power over me gives me power. It’s freeing. It doesn’t make any fucking sense to me, but that’s what feels the best. I thought I would like the surprise factor, but it ended up being the biggest turn-on.

He nods. “Okay.” Leaning in, he kisses my forehead tenderly before pulling my body back into his. “Did you like the fact that I spoke to you? I wanted to make sure you knew it was me without ruining it for you.”

“I knew it was you before you even spoke,” I tell him.

“Yeah?” He arches a brow. “Well, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

I chuckle and try changing the subject. “Why are you back?”

“I came back early for you,” he answers through a yawn.

My brows rise. “You weren’t even gone for twenty-four hours.”

“I hate New York,” he states.

I don’t mention Matt told me that Ryat will one day be a judge there. I doubt he knows everything. He was probably just lying anyway to put thoughts in my head.

“Are you hungry?” he asks.

“No.” I yawn and stretch out my heavy limbs.

“Get some rest. You must be tired,” he says, pulling away from me. A hint that he’s not coming to bed with me.

“What time is it?” I ask, all of a sudden feeling drained.

He looks at his cell. “Almost two thirty.” Then he bends down and picks up the top sheet. He lays it across the bed and then does the same with the comforter that’s folded over in the corner.

I close my eyes and yawn once again. I’m about to pass the fuck out when I open my eyes to see him walking toward the door. “Hey, Ryat?”

He turns to face me. “Yeah?”

“Thank you,” I say again.

“You don’t have to thank me, little one,” he says, turning off the light and then exiting the room.

I roll over and pull the covers up to my neck and close my eyes, hearing him shut the door as he exits, not giving two fucks about taking a shower right now.

RYAT

SUNDAY NIGHT, I’M standing in the bathroom at the sink brushing my teeth. Spitting out the toothpaste, I turn around and watch Blakely in the bathtub. She’s relaxing back with her head on a white pillow and her eyes closed. Her hair is up in a messy bun. Some pieces have fallen down around her face and are wet. Her left knee is bent, popping out of the bubbles that fill the Jacuzzi tub.

I walk over to the side and sit down on the edge. Placing my hand on her knee, I slide it down to her inner thigh, my hand dipping into the scorching hot water. She jumps, her eyes springing open at the touch. “Were you sleeping?” I ask her.

“No,” she answers through a yawn.

I laugh at that lie. “Come on.” I tap her thigh. “I don’t want you falling asleep in here and drowning.”

“Aw, you do care about me.” She smiles.

“Can’t fuck a dead chick,” I joke. Well, you can, but then again, that’s not a kink I’m into.

She throws some bubbles at me, landing on my shirt. I stand, and she reaches out, grabbing my hand to stop me. “Can we stay here tonight? We can get up extra early in the morning to head back.”

“Sure.” I wasn’t planning on leaving this late anyway. I know she’s tired, and frankly, so am I. Leaving the bathroom, I enter the master suite. I just lie down in bed when my cell goes off on the nightstand. Picking it up, I see it’s a text from Prickett.

Turn on the TV.

Frowning, I pick up the remote next to my phone and point it at the flat screen that hangs on the wall. It comes on, and I don’t even have to change the channel. A news crew stands outside of a home here in Pennsylvania. Police cars, ambulances, and a coroner van are gathered in the large driveway of the three-story, white brick mansion.

“What’s going on?” Blake asks, walking out of the bathroom.

I look over at her dressed in nothing but a short towel, and my first thought is to throw her on the bed and fuck her. But I dismiss it and put my eyes back on the TV. “Not sure,” I answer honestly.

A brunette steps into the camera, holding a mic to her face. “A manhunt has been issued,” she announces. “Behind me, you’ll see the police and FBI are at the Mallory family’s home …”