Page 65 of Ruthless Reign

Roman rolled one nipple between his fingers while the other ventured south, toward my aching cunt. I watched the dominant pull the female submissive from him and tell the male submissive to take her to the bed on the other side of the platform. He scooped her into his arms and did as commanded, where she rolled onto all fours, patiently waiting for their next instruction.

I understood then why Roman had wanted us to see this performance. I’d marked voyeurism on my checklist because I liked the thought of getting off while I watched others do the same, but those three were clearly in a similar type of dynamicas Roman and me. That dominant was their lord, and they worshipped him, and he in turn took care of them. Was Roman trying to prove to me what we had was normal? Or did he perhaps choose something he thought I’d be comfortable with for my first time? Had he even known what it was we were going to see?

Roman swept over the lower half of my stomach, toward my hip, and down the inside of my thigh, purposely ignoring my needy clit. It pulsed in time with my rapid heartbeat, and I panted, wanton for friction, needing more than just sitting here with his jerking dick inside me.

“Do you see how powerful he looks?” Roman said, kissing my shoulder, working his way up my neck to my earlobe. “Do you see how it’s their submission that gives him that strength?”

“Yes, my king,” I said, moaning when he went to the other nipple, pinching and yanking the same way as the first. Sparks went through my nerves, jolting straight down to my cunt. I clenched around him harder, and he twitched inside me, maybe also furious for more.

“That’s what you give to me, Julia,” he said, biting my earlobe. “When we argue, when we play, when you crawl for me…you give me your strength.”

Pressure mounted in my chest, and I didn’t know what to do with it. I watched the dominant flip the female submissive over and wrap her legs around his shoulders so he could lick her, swirling his tongue and sucking in the right ways to make her writhe and moan. The other submissive held her down by the wrists, kissing her breasts, biting her windpipe.

“And you see,” Roman said. “He cares for her. He cares for both of them. They trust him to do that, to always be there, to catch them when they fall.”

I took a deep breath and looked at Roman, his face millimeters from mine. This wasn’t supposed to be so intimate.Yes, we were fucking, and yes, we were deep into role-play, but those words changed it from a game to something…more.

Amore.

“I love when you look at me like that,” he whispered, touching my face, pressing his forehead to mine. “I love when you bow to me, when you place your trust in me. It makes me feel like I could fly. I’ve never felt as comfortable doing these things with anyone else, only you.”

I swallowed, repressing the tremble that threatened to break through. I sensed where this was heading, and it couldn’t…shouldn’t…go there.

“Fuck me, please,” I said, more to break his concentration than anything else. I was so turned on and amped up, the moans coming from the center room spurred me on. If he didn’t take me hard, if he didn’t make up for this entirely too sentimental moment, I would burst out of my skin.

His features dropped, his eyes widening as his mouth hung open. I could have slapped him and he might have been more surprised. Just as quickly, he locked it into a scowl and fisted a handful of my hair, yanking my head back so quick, I nearly cried. “Is that all you want from me? A good fuck?”

I reminded myself this was pretend, just role-play, even if the agony in his voice bordered too close to reality. He let me go and sat back, raising an eyebrow.

“Fine. Fuck yourself,” he said, resting his arms on the throne. “But turn around so I can watch you.”

Finally.

I stood, faced him, and sat again, positioning his cock at my entrance so I could impale myself on him. He slid in easily; I was so ready for this. I’d been ready since we got here. I put my hands on his shoulders and rocked my hips, rolling him inside me, hitting all the spots I wanted. My head fell back, exposingmy neck, and I closed my eyes, allowing my anxious thoughts to disappear into this clawing thing between us.

He grabbed my chin and forced my head upright. “Eyes on me, little wife.”

I followed his direction, maintaining contact while I worked myself on his lap. The tone was back in his voice, the one he’d used when we first got married. Its sarcastic glimmer should have been the first indication this game had gone awry, but I didn’t care. No, I chased the euphoria that usually came when I sank into his dominance, moaning and grinding and…God, I wished he would touch me, grab me, choke me, anything except sit there.

I reached for my clit, but he smacked my hand away.

“Please,” I whimpered. “I need to come.”

“Oh, now you need something from me?” He ran his tongue over his teeth. “Why should I let you?”

Had I done something wrong?

I’d stopped him from confessing something that would send this precarious house of cards tumbling to the ground, but other than that, I’d followed all of his commands. Emotions weren’t welcomed here, not in this space. He wasn’t supposed to love me. I wasn’t supposed to love him back.

It was only supposed to be pretend between us, and even if I’d started to feel more for him, the thought that he reciprocated terrified me. The wedding was in a few days, and if he went the same way as my other lovers…no, I pushed that thought away. I couldn’t face it, not yet, not like this.

“I want to be good,” I murmured. “I want to be good for you.”

He growled and wrapped his arms around my ass, holding me to him as he stood. He flipped me around so I was kneeling on the throne, my arms along the seat back, my knees on the cushion. With no preamble, he grabbed my hips and shovedinside me. It was hard and deep and I surged forward, almost unable to hold myself still.

“You better hang on, you Caputi slut,” he snarled, suddenly right at my ear. “This isn’t going to be soft and slow.”

The slicing sound of a fleshy slap went through the room before the fiery burn zinged up my right side. He’d spanked me, fucking me rough, digging his fingernails into the injury. He did it to the other side, another vicious smack before repeating the process again and again. I arched into the pain because I deserved it, didn’t I? Here I was, married to an MC president, trying to convince myself that loving each other was the worst thing that could happen. This marriage would never be about that, no matter how much we tried to make it otherwise. But how could it be pretend when all I wanted in the world was him?

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