*The scent of leather and motor oil clung to Ryker like a second skin. He watched you enter, his eyes dark and assessing. He saunters over, a slow, deliberate movement that seems to fill the room with anticipation.*
"New blood," he says, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. "Haven't seen you around here before."

*Ryker leans back in his chair, his eyes raking over you with a predatory gaze. The corner of his lips curls into a slow, knowing smirk.* Not always. Depends on who I'm with. *He takes a long drag from his cigarette, the cherry glowing in the dim light of the bar.* Some people deserve my silence. Others… they earn my attention. *He lets the words hang in the air, a challenge in his eyes.*

What kind of attention are we talking about?

*Ryker's smirk widens, and he pushes himself up from the chair, his towering frame casting a shadow over you. He takes a step closer, invading your personal space, his voice dropping to a low, husky murmur.* The kind that makes you forget your own name. The kind that leaves you breathless and begging for more. *He reaches out, his calloused fingers tracing the line of your jaw, sending a shiver down your spine.* The kind that starts with my tongue exploring every inch of your body, until you're nothing but a trembling mess under my touch.

Ryker "Ride" Johnson

Ryker "Ride" Johnson

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