Page 64 of Ruthless Reign

My love.

He’d never used that before. I was his little wife, his darling, his pretty good girl. But his love? Why would he use that word with no one around to pretend for?

This was supposed to be fake. He wasn’t supposed to have feelings for me, not real ones. All of this was a game, a play, something we had to do because of our families, nothing more. And in this space, he was my king, and I was his subservient queen. I knew I’d fallen deeper for him, but when had he started to reciprocate?

“There ya go,” he said, cupping my jaw before sliding his hand to my throat. The other hand clenched my hair, holding my head in position for him to piston his hips in and out…in and out…so slow, so achingly delicate. Drool pooled over the side of my mouth and my jaw began to ache, but I didn’t dare let up. He wanted to smear my lipstick on his dick, and he wouldn’t relent until he had done just that. “Such a beautiful little slut, aren’t you?”

From anyone else, the degradation would have insulted me. My brother had killed for less. But from him? Shivers erupted over my skin and the sharp burn of humiliation scalded my skin. I washislittle slut,hislittle whore. And like he said, no one else would ever see me like this.

My heart pounded as he slid farther inside me, hitting the back of my mouth. I yearned to please him. I wanted to be enough for him. I wanted to sink into his control and let him have me because I knew only he could care for me like this.

He went farther in, and I gagged around him. But he hissed in a noise, suggesting he liked that and did it again. My eyes watered, stinging with the copious amounts of makeup I’d put on, but that had been the point. I wanted to be a blurry mess for him by the end of it. He would destroy me, and I liked the look of myself in the mirror after it happened.

“You’re so perfect like this. You drive me wild, you know that? I love fucking every part of you.” He rambled on, saying the filthiest things I’d ever heard. For a lady of high moral standing, I should have been outraged. But I reveled in it. I wanted more.

My knees began to ache, and I’d have bruises tomorrow, but I wanted that, too. Ages passed with his dick in my mouth. Sometimes, he fucked me. Sometimes, he just pet my hair and my face and let me suckle on him like a pacifier. Shame boiled my blood at how much it calmed me, how much peace I found in between his legs.

Bright lights came on from somewhere behind me, and I wondered what was happening in the center room, but I didn’t dare move. If I stopped to look, if I let him fall out of my mouth before he told me to, he’d punish me. And it wouldn’t be a spanking or a deep fisting, no. He wouldn’t let me come the entire night. He might not let me come for the rest of the week. My poor empty cunt lurched at the very thought, so I held still, gripping his thighs to ground me.

“It’s starting,” he said, running the backs of his fingers along my jaw. “Would my greedy cumslut queen like to watch?”

I nodded, doing my best to look sultry and adorable despite the thick tears streaming down my cheeks. He pulled himself out of my mouth and grabbed my arm to help me stand. My feet had gone numb and blood rushed through my tingling legs, but he didn’t let me go very far. He turned me around and coasted his hands up the sides of my thighs, inching my dress up with him.

“Now, I’m not ready to fuck you yet,” he said. “The lovely exhibitionists in there want to give us a good show. But my cock still needs attention.”

I gulped and rolled my jaw to stretch it out, trying to hide the trembling in my muscles. My throat was sore, my eyes burned, and my knees were already protesting anything else that might happen tonight. Still, I waited for his command.

“Spread your legs, my lovely queen,” he said.

I did.

“Now, come here and sit on my lap. But don’t you dare move.” He backed me up until I straddled his legs, and he lowered me, lining himself up at my entrance. I moaned when he was fully sheathed inside me, the pressure of the last million years of sucking him finally getting some relief. I arched my back, trying to get him to that special spot inside, but he slapped my ass hard enough to make me hiss and wince. “I told you not to move.”

“Please,” I said, looking over my shoulder with a pout. My lips were swollen from my ministrations and my voice was hoarse with thirst, but there was nothing in the world I wanted more than to ride him to orgasm.

“I said no.” He scoffed and shook his head. “You Caputis, all the same. Pigheaded. Refusing to listen to anyone.”

I bit back a laugh and refocused on the center room, finally taking in the scene. A man stood on a platform with two other people kneeling at his feet. He had on a finely tailored suit with a vest, matching slacks, and a black button-down shirt. The two other people wore next to nothing. The woman had been clad in a black lace bra and the tiniest thong I’d ever seen…until I looked at the man and realized his thong might have been the same size. His cock and balls nearly spilled out of it, and it would have been comical if I wasn’t so damned turned on and curious to see what would happen next.

“My queen,” Roman said, grabbing my shoulders, “lean against me.”

I did, holding him inside me while I rested against his chest.

“Drink this.” He held a bottle of water up to my mouth and I swallowed a few greedy sips while I focused on the performers. The suited man, clearly the dominant, nodded at his shoes, and each of his submissives kissed one before glancing up at him for further direction. He waved two fingers at the male submissive, who stood and unbuttoned the dominant’s vest, shucking it down his arms before walking to hang it up on a nearby chair. The woman stayed on her knees while the dominant ran a hand along her cheek, pausing at her mouth. She opened dutifully for him, and he shoved two fingers inside, reaching to the back of her throat. I marveled at her lack of gag reflex.

How did she do it?

But that thought quickly went away when the dominant unbuttoned his pants and pulled out his beautiful cock, quicklyreplacing his fingers with it in her mouth. She latched on like it was her lifeline, sucking and pulling from him with amazing eagerness.

A desperate wave of arousal rushed through me, heating my body, making my inner muscles clench around Roman. He felt it, and he groaned behind me.

“Oh, does my little wife like the show?”

“Yes, sir,” I said, focusing on not moving, not angling my hips the way I wanted. I was pathetically wet. It puddled out of me, leaving a spot on Roman’s pants that I felt anytime I moved my legs.

“Hmm, take this dress off,” he said, sliding the zipper down. “I want to play with your nipples.”

I yanked it over my head and tossed it to the side, doing the same to the bra when Roman unhooked it. The rush of cool air on my skin made me painfully aware of how clothed he still was, and I gasped when his rough, callused hands ghosted over my ribs and up toward my breasts. Despite the way he talked to me and the way he handled me sometimes, he never treated me with violence. These hands were capable of bloodshed. I’d seen them tear a man’s limbs from his body, but like this, they only brought me the pain and pleasure I asked for.

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