Page 17 of Ruler

“You’re perfect,” Gus rasps.

Heat pools in my lower stomach, excitement makes my core muscles contract as wetness coats my folds. That is, until I realize Kai hasn’t said anything, and I feel the absence of his praise.

I feel him moving and when I look to the side, he’s no longer there. Without looking to confirm it, I know he’s now standing behind me and looking directly at my exposed cunt. The knowledge causes butterflies to erupt in my stomach. While my mind screams at me that I should cover myself up, my body preens under his heavy gaze.

“Do you want to play a game, Nereid?” my husband growls.

“Yes,” I breathe, my inner muscles tightening in anticipation.

Kai chuckles darkly. “So eager that you agree before knowing the rules. Very well. Choose.”

“W-what?” Unthinkingly, I round my back and close my legs. I don’t need to know what he’s referring to in order to be aware it’s nothing good.

“Your cunt is so slick with need, Nereid. I can see it glistening. You want to be touched, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I whisper as though I’m afraid to voice my need.

The sound of fabric ruffling is the only indication that Kai is moving until he bends over me, running a hand up my spine. “Then you need to choose. Who do you want to touch you?”

His words make it feel like a bucket of ice-cold water has been dropped on me, and my mouth becomes dry. “No,” I hiss. “I won’t pick between you.”

“Is that your final answer?” The taunting lilt to Kai’s voice causes me to bristle.

“What the hell do you take me for? Of course it’s my final answer,” I snark.

A part of me is getting annoyed that Liam and Gus aren’t speaking up, or even better, touching me. I barely finish the thought before I realize that Kai must somehow have communicated the game to them while standing behind me.

I’m caught between wanting to rebel and demand to be touched, yet there’s also curiosity to see where this is going. So I end up saying nothing. I grit my teeth and arch my back again, deciding to play along.

“Are you ready, Nereid?”

As soon as I nod, Gus and Liam move their chairs, disappearing from my peripheral. I try not to let their absence from my line-of-sight show, but I know they’re aware of what they’re doing. And if there was ever any doubt, it dissipates when I all too briefly feel their hands on my ass.

The hands disappear when Kai speaks again. “What you did tonight created discord in a group that was otherwise fine. But because of your need to… I don’t even know what you were trying to achieve. Regardless, I’m pretty sure you didn’t get the outcome you hoped for.”

Tears burn behind my eyelids, and I have to fight the urge to conceal myself, or at the very least, round my back.

“I know,” I murmur. “What can I do to fix it?”

“You need to learn to let things run their course. Sometimes the best thing to do is nothing.” Kai’s words aren’t unkind, far from it. But they aren’t soft and reassuring either.

Although it should be easy to do nothing, it isn’t. Reacting is second nature to me, and I’ve never been any good at the wait-and-see approach.

“I’m sor—”

Kai interrupts me. “Shh, Nereid.”

Before I can beg for either of them to touch me, I feel a finger sliding between my pussy lips, spreading them before nudging my clit. I bite down on my lip to stop a moan from spilling from my mouth and into the room.

“She’s drenched,” Gus says, and I can hear the smirk in his voice.

When he—at least I assume he’s the one touching me—adds a second finger and thrusts them both into my drenched opening, I’m unable to stop myself from moaning.

“I don’t need you to be sorry, Nereid. What’s done is done, so we can only move forward. But what did you expect to happen?” Without giving me time to answer, Kai adds another question to the list. “And why did you keep it to yourself?” There it is again, the hint of disappointment, but this time there’s also something else. Curiosity.

When I take too long to contemplate how to reply, Gus pulls his fingers out of my cunt, and I whimper at the loss. “Please… I’m thinking.” My voice is heavy with need, and I wiggle my ass but it doesn’t help.

I try to shake the feeling of being put on the spot with a harsh light shining on my imperfections. Rationally, I know that’s not the way to look at it. And if any of my men told me they felt like that, I’d claim their imperfections to be part of their character—personality.

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