Page 36 of Ruthless Reign

Do I want her to?

In the deepest, darkest part of my heart, maybe I did. Maybe I lamented that our marriage had started the way it did. Maybe I loathed the thought of our union only being a duty, a means to an end. I watched her as she stood at the bar with V, Hollywood, Wheels, and Hollister. She was obviously telling them a funny story, gesturing with her hands in a way that made all four audience members laugh. I wondered what it was. I wondered what she said. Why didn’t she try to make me laugh like that?

I imagined her belly round with my child. Something stirred in my chest, something wicked and depraved. Yeah, I’d fought the procreation part of our contract only because I didn’t want either of us forced into something neither wanted. But I’d always thought I’d be a father one day, that I’d have a family of my own. And envisioning my wife pregnant shifted a kink gear I didn’t know I had.

“Hiya, Bear,” came a soft voice from my right. When I pulled myself from my brooding, I focused on Amber. She stared up at me with those big blue fuck-me eyes, her shirt cut incredibly low and her shorts cut incredibly high. She was gorgeous, and once upon a time, I’d already be in the back with my cock down her throat. But I was a married man now, and even if I didn’t have the same connection with my wife that KC had with his, I would never fuck around on her.

“Hey ya, Amber,” I said. “Whatcha doing?”

She shrugged and ran a finger down my forearm, trailing it over my hand and fingers before ghosting it back up again. “Just wondering how you’ve been.”

“Fine,” I said, pulling away as I refocused on Julia, now talking with Wheels and sporting a huge grin.

“How’s married life?” Amber asked with a tiny pout. “Do you miss me already?”

I’d been paying so much attention to my wife that I almost missed her question.

“Married life is great,” I said. “Fucking wonderful.”

“You don’t sound very convincing.” Amber pushed up on her toes, pressing her breasts to my stomach while she leaned into my ear. “You could take me in the back room so I could kiss it better?”

She’d been pawing at me for weeks now, and if it had been before my marriage, I would have heartily agreed. But I was a faithful man. I wouldn’t let anyone put a finger on Julia, so I likewise wouldn’t let anyone put a finger on me. Just like all the times before, I grabbed Amber’s shoulders and pushed her away, taking a step back from her.

“No, thanks,” I said.

“C’mon, that Caputi bitch can’t keep y?—”

“Shut your fucking mouth,” I snapped, my blood heating her casual insult of Julia. “That’s my wife, the president’s old lady. You’ll respect her, or you can find a new place to slut around. Understand?”

Amber’s eyes widened, like she hadn’t expected that response from me.

“Husband,” came Julia’s voice from the other side of the hang-around. Distracted by putting Amber in her place, I hadn’t seen her approach. “Are you ready to go home?”

“Of course,” I said, setting down my beer so I could hold my hand out to her. “Have a nice night, Amber.”

“Yeah, you too,” she said, sneering at Julia while we passed. I held my wife’s hand all the way out the door to the truck, where I helped her into the passenger’s seat before circling to the driver’s and starting the truck.

“Well,” I started once we were on our way, “that went better than I expected.”

“Hmm.” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“What?” I said.

“Nothing,” she said. “I’m happy most of your club seems to be on board.”

I nodded. “Yeah, it was a good plan. Truly, Julia.”

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, keeping her focus on the window. “I’ll text Hannah and Titus tomorrow. We should consider making it a big event.”

I mulled this over while I drove, turning onto my street that wound up into the mountains.

“Take out an ad in the paper,” she said. “Announce it on all the social media platforms. It will be most impactful if we rub her nose in it.”

“Do you think that might be going overboard?” I asked. “Roses don’t generally make our weddings public affairs.”

“This isn’t just any Rose wedding,” she argued. “This is the president of the club. The leader. The king and his new queen.”

“Right,” I said, ignoring the giddiness that shot down my torso and into my balls. I liked it when she referred to me as a king. I liked thinking about her as my queen. I wondered if I could get her on her knees, staring up at me with those big doe eyes, calling me her king with her soft, delicate lips before wrapping them around my cock.

---