Page 53 of Ruthless Reign

Ahh, so my dear Zia hadn’t lost all of her morals, only some.

“I don’t give a fuck what Gabriella says,” Lenny said. “This Rose whore deserves it, and my men are aching for a good fuck.”

“Julia—” came a familiar distant voice, but I was too lost in my memories to react.

“Go on then,” I said. “You fucking cowards. Do it.”

“Julia, wake up. It’s only a dream.” The voice was louder this time, and when a warm arm draped over my waist to pull me closer to a hard, muscular body, I blinked my eyes open to a dark room and a strange bed I didn’t recognize. But I inhaled Roman’s clean pinewood scent, and that calmed the rising panic in my chest. We were in the safe house where Leo had been living, in one of the spare rooms. Roman’s house had to be cleaned and repaired before we could return.

I turned in his arms to face him, leaning closer to breathe him in deeper.

“Thank you,” I said, nuzzling under his chin.

“Want to talk about it?” he asked, his voice gravelly from sleep.

“No, it’s better left in the past,” I answered. Now that I was awake, I focused on my husband’s features—the way his cheek sloped down to his jaw, his pouty lips, the stubble on his chin. I brought my fingers to his mouth, tracing it like I could memorize the exact shape of the curve. He truly was so beautiful, and after what he’d done to save me, tosidewith me, I could no longer deny these strange feelings developing in my chest. Yes, watching him be so brutal had made me painfully aware of the dark side of our life, but perhaps I’d been sheltered from it for too long. Perhaps that had been the hubris of thinking I could run away with Hugo and nothing would happen to me. This was war, and ending it, would be bloody.

I’d signed my life away to Roman, and in exchange, he’d given me his protection.

“Thank you for saving me,” I murmured.

He opened his mahogany eyes and glanced down at me. “There’s no thanks needed, Julia. You’re my wife. I’ll always keep you safe.”

Mine. You touch what’s mine, I take your hand.

“I’m sorry I didn’t answer when you called,” he said. “I should have gotten there sooner.”

“Shh,” I said, kissing him to silence his unwarranted apology. It wasn’t his fault, none of this. Roman dragged his hand up my back to my hair, holding my face firmer to his, devouring my mouth. I touched his stomach, tracing the way his abs became his chest and eventually his neck. He was so strong, so powerful, honed from years of turning wrenches in a shop and riding a heavy motorcycle.

He lapped at me with his tongue, and when I opened for him, he wrestled against mine, making me moan. But that spurred him on, and he rolled on top of me, settling his hips between my legs. His half-erect cock rubbed at my clit when he rolled his pelvis, and I spread my legs farther, arching into him, granting him access to whatever he wanted. Most of the time, we played with dominance, but I sensed that wasn’t what this was about. This was a reconnection, a reclaiming, a reinforcement that I was safe and protected andhis.

His. His. His.

Which made him mine.

And oh, how I loved the thought of that. No one else would ever touch him the way I did. No one else would ever know what it was like to be under him like this, to know the weight of his body and how his cock curved upward when it was hard and how he groaned when he wanted more.

He reached down between us, pulling my underwear to the side so he could position himself at my entrance. He was big, so he didn’t shove inside me the way he’d done before. He took it slow—rocking in and out a few times to prepare me. And when he slid in all the way, he held himself there for a moment to let me adjust to his girth.

“Fuck,” he whispered, biting my earlobe. “You always feel so good. So damned good.”

“So do you,” I said, turning my face so I kissed him again.

“My wife,” he said, rutting against me, fucking me in long, gentle strokes. “My queen.”

“Yours,” I said. “And you’re mine. My husband. My protector. My Rose king.”

He paused to lean back and meet my gaze, his grin nearly blinding. “I like when you call me yours.”

I bit my bottom lip and rolled my hips, adjusting him inside me, hitting a spot that made both of us moan. I wrapped my arms around his neck and my legs around his hips, meeting him thrust for thrust, and when I came, he put his hand over my mouth to muffle the sounds of my euphoria. My muscles tensed and I clenched my eyes shut, but the thumping in my heart swelled down to the agony between my legs, making me want him again. I didn’t think I’d ever get enough.

“Shh,” he said, nuzzling into my neck. “Leo’s in the next room.”

I didn’t care. If I had a dime for every time I’d heard Leo with a lover, I’d be rich on my own and I wouldn’t need Caputi money. Still, I hummed my agreement and kissed my husband through his climax, his cock kicking deep inside me, spilling his seed. And maybe for the first time since we were married, I prayed he got me pregnant. I prayed we would have a child, something to call ours.

I watched him in his bliss, how his eyes scrunched, how his mouth fell open, how sweat beaded down his temple and over the side of his face. I couldn’t admit it out loud, not yet. But in that moment, I loved him more than I needed to, more than I ever thought I would. I expected him to roll off me or maybe kneel between my legs and play with our combined release.

But he lay there with his elbows on either side of my head, his body on mine, his skin sticky and hot. He brushed hair off my face and kissed my nose, running his mouth over my eyes and forehead. His cock stayed buried deep inside me, twitching and softening, but he didn’t move.

---