Wild Side (Rose Hill #3)

41. Rhys

CHAPTER 41

RHYS

Rhys:

I have a confession to make. It’s been stressing me out and I could use your input.

Tabby:

No. I have not been faking the orgasms.

Rhys:

Funny.

Tabby:

If you send an ominous text like that then you should 100% expect me to get weird.

Rhys:

Okay, but it’s not about you. Well, not directly. Anthony wants to unmask me at Pure Pandemonium. He brought it up a while ago and isn’t letting it go. Now he wants Elle to remove it.

Tabby:

Fuck Anthony.

Rhys:

I’ve always known this storyline might come. It’s been done before. It’s always kind of exciting.

Tabby:

Still fuck Anthony.

Rhys:

I’m more worried about the circus it will turn into with the fans. Right now, that separation feels like it keeps you and Milo safe.

Tabby:

Wait. Do you *want* to take your mask off?

Rhys:

I don’t know.

Tabby:

Listen, I appreciate you worrying about us, but we’ll be fine. This is about you. Your privacy. Your identity. Your career. If you want to do this, then do it. But do it on your terms. Don’t let that asshole control you. You can take that mask off AND fuck Anthony at the same time.

Rhys:

I do not enjoy that mental image.

Tabby:

YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN.

I lift Will by the scruff of his neck after tossing him from the ring. “You good?” I mumble close to his ear, hoping he can hear me over the loud chants from the crowd.

“Yep,” he grits out. But I have no doubt the landing stung. It always does.

I was meant to face one of his sidekicks, but then the storyline changed—as it often does—and the producers opted to have Will and the other member of their group run out to rescue their friend after the match. I delivered a hell of a beatdown to my opponent, pinned him for a full three seconds, and now his boys are here looking for payback.

Or that’s the story.

Elle ran out to back me up. A ringer in a case like this, because none of the men would hit her, so they just let her unload on them. And for all the things I don’t like about Elle, I could never deny that the woman is a good wrestler.

“My wife says she hates your guts,” I whisper into Will’s ear as I turn him into a headlock.

“She sounds sweet like you,” he whispers back, grinning like the cocky little maniac he is before I toss him through the table he’d set up for me beside the ring.

We were supposed to be done by now. The ref has been giving us our time markers, but I’m too busy feeding off the audience. I know I’m a fan favorite, and I have been down for too long. They’re ready to see me back on top.

The energy is electric. They fall back on the classic chant of this is awesome over and over again as Will and I beat the hell out of each other. And the younger wrestler is a fantastic showman. This was his idea, or at least I think that’s what he meant when earlier in our showdown, he whispered, “Daddy, put me through the table. They’ll love it. Let’s bring it home.”

I’d put him through the table for calling me “Daddy” alone. Goofy little fucker that he is.

I stand over him, watching, still wanting to make sure that he’s okay. He moves his middle finger and flips me the bird subtly, the signal we worked out to communicate all good.

Whereas if we tap our pinky finger three times, it means red alert, let’s wrap this match up . But that’s never happened because neither one of us is going to call a match. Short of getting knocked out, the show must go on, and the adrenaline keeps you going anyway. When I’d been injured before, I didn’t even realize that I had torn my ACL until I felt a pain in my leg backstage.

Either way, Will and I look out for each other. We may have an on-screen rivalry, but behind the scenes, we’re cool with each other. He’s a solid worker. He sells the story, and though he’s new, he’s just enough of a perfectionist that I can trust him to wrestle safely.

So that middle finger sends me stepping back, cameraman following my motion as I stare down over my fallen enemy, who is moaning and gripping his ribs in the shambles of the table.

I hop into the ring, grabbing a mic as I go, and as I saunter to the center, I take a long look at the belt he carelessly dropped in the corner before attacking me. I can hear the shouts of people telling me to pick it up.

But I shake my head. “Nah,” I growl into the mic. “Bad luck. I’ll win it at Pure Pandemonium.” I drop the mic and turn to leave, but not before Elle slips under my arm and wraps herself around my waist.

She gazes up at me, grinning like we’re some happy couple celebrating a win, and I fucking hate it. “Do it. Sell it.” I read her lips, because the thunderous crowd makes it difficult to hear.

But I can’t.

So I do something I know Anthony will give me an earful for later—partly because it’s not kissing her and partly because I look awkward as hell doing it.

In front of thousands of screaming fans… I pat her on the head.

“Like a dog, Rhys! Your stage wife was looking at you like she wanted to jump your bones, and you fucking patted her on the head! What in the actual fuck were you thinking?”

Anthony has been monologuing his anger at me for at least three minutes straight, but I’m already most of the way to Rose Hill. The sun is setting, and I don’t give a shit if he’s mad. His words roll off me like raindrops down a window.

“Well, I don’t want to kiss her. The story doesn’t need it, and I don’t think I’m contractually obligated to do it.”

“This is all for the show! And at Pandemonium, you will follow through, and you will be unmasked because the storyline calls for it, and at the heart of it all—You. Are. An. Actor. So fucking suck it up and act .”

“No.” The single word comes out even and calm, like second nature now. Without guilt. It’s as though I’ve figured out who I am and who I want to be. And it isn’t someone who compromises on their morals. Sure, I’m an actor, but it’s still my life. And while I signed a contract, my lawyer, who I checked with earlier on the drive, assured me it doesn’t mean I have to follow every demand they make.

“ No isn’t an option! Follow through. You will win—you’re welcome for that—and Elle will present you with the belt. You will kiss, and then you will let her peel your mask off.”

“I don’t want to do that.”

“I don’t care what you want! This isn’t about?—”

I glance down at my phone, lips twitching as I my eyes land on the total lack of reception bars. I can imagine Anthony losing his shit now, thinking I hung up on him. It’s satisfying, actually.

I run through the match in my head for the rest of the drive, determining if I’d do anything differently. Trying to decide if I’m being unprofessional somehow. I may not be a man of many words, but I am a man of my word, and I told Anthony I’d do whatever storyline he wanted when I asked for the extra time off.

I just didn’t think he’d do this one. And it’s not like I didn’t express my concern before stepping into the ring. He knew damn well how I felt, and he tried to force it anyway.

No, I feel comfortable with my choice. Elle and Anthony can do whatever they want, and they’ll get head pats. from me.

I pull up in front of Tabitha’s house about an hour after my call with Anthony dropped. Light glows from the windows. I know she worked tonight, and Milo is staying at her parents’ house. The thought of removing him from this place now, after all these months, twists something deep inside me. His family, his entire support network—I could never.

No, Milo belongs here in Rose Hill.

And so do I.

That’s why I’m back. Unannounced. Again.

I couldn’t stay away. The travel is long and grueling and worth every second. I’ve never been in love, but I’ve also never felt like this. So it seems reasonable to assume I just might be in love with my wife.

Bag over my shoulder, I stride up to the cozy craftsman and enter through the unlocked front door. I lock it behind me.

“Tabby?” I call, not wanting to waste time looking around.

Footsteps rush across the floor upstairs, and her head pops down from the top landing. “Rhys?” She hurries toward me, eyes bright, hair damp.

She’s wearing the same tiny shorts and tank top pajama combo she wore the day I treated her burn. It had been a herculean effort not to look up her shorts. Today, I don’t worry about that. They won’t be on for long.

“What are you doing here?”

“Surprise?” I reply, watching her spring down the stairs before launching herself at me.

I lift her up, hands on her ass as she wraps her arms around my neck. “The best surprise,” she says. “Careful. I’m going to expect that you come home every week.”

“I’ll do my best.”

She grins, dropping her mouth close to mine. “On the weeks you can’t, I’ll watch you on TV and slip a hand down my shorts. Pretend you’re here.”

“Fuck, Tabby,” I growl out before she presses her mouth to mine. My fingers grip her tighter, pulsing against the globes of her ass.

“That’s what I did last night after everyone left.” Her lips drag over my cheek, nipping at my ear. “Went to bed. Pulled your entrance up on my phone and fucked my fingers until I came. Thinking about riding your cock.”

I’m hard now, cock rearing up toward her. I don’t even kick my shoes off before I carry my wife straight down the hallway like a caveman and plunk her on the kitchen table. I shrug off my duffel bag, shoving it across the smooth expanse next to her.

She watches me, looking amused by how frayed my patience has become at the drop of a hat. Her lips quirk, and she bats her eyelashes, taunting me. It reminds me of the smile she’d hit me with the first day I met her. She’d used her looks like a weapon then, and today nothing has changed. She knows exactly what she’s doing to me.

“Are you feeling okay? You seem very distressed .”

“Tabitha, wipe that smirk from your mouth, or I’ll fuck it off.”

She smiles wider, reaching out to trail a finger over the waistband of my jeans. “Maybe you’re just tired?”

I push her back gently, so she lands on her elbows. She looks pleased about the development. “Tired of listening to you talk when I’d rather hear you choke on my cock.” I hook my fingers in her shorts and roughly tug them down, groaning when I see the smooth expanse of skin down her stomach to her perfect little cunt.

She smells like jasmine and looks like dinner. I toss her flimsy shorts over my shoulder.

“Maybe you need a snack?” God, she’s not deterred at all. She just keeps pushing back, and I fucking love it.

“Tabitha, what the fuck does it look like I’m trying to do? Now quit running your mouth, and get on your back.”

A knowing giggle slips from her lips as she crosses her legs to keep me out. “Hmm. I have terms.” Her eyes slice to the side. “Mask on, Wild Side.”

“What?”

She reaches out and hooks a finger into the mesh side pocket of my bag, where I carelessly shoved my mask in my rush to the nearest airport. I blink at it. That was fucking reckless of me. Anyone could have seen it. Could have recognized me. I always travel in a hoodie to cover my tattoos, but the mask would be a dead giveaway. It didn’t even cross my mind, though. All I could think about was getting home to Tabitha.

She tugs it out and swipes her thumb across the leather. “You ever fucked someone with this on?”

I swallow. I’ve never merged my two lives. Until her. “No.”

The grin she gives me is pure sex, her tongue sliding out over her bottom lip sensually. It’s one of the hottest things about being with Tabitha. She loves sex and has no shame about coming for it.

“Good. I can be the first.” She holds it out to me, anticipation dancing in her dark irises.

“You always had a mask fetish, Tabby?”

Her tongue slips out over her bottom lip. “Not until you.”

I regard the mask, this part of me that I’ve always hidden away. With a gruff shake of my head, I take it and tug it over my face. I lick my lips as I look back at Tabitha, her teeth biting down on that pillowy bottom lip.

“First and last, baby,” I rasp out. “Because I have no plans to fuck anyone other than my wife for the rest of my life.”

She swallows, looking less cocky than a moment ago. Fisting her tank top, I draw her toward me, sitting her upright on the kitchen table before dropping my face close to hers.

Eyes latched together, her breaths fan across my jaw.

“On your knees, Tabby. I changed my mind. I’ll fuck your face first. Eat your pussy after.”

“Fuck,” she mutters, slipping off the table and dropping to the floor eagerly as I rip my shirt off and toss it behind me.

She grabs the waistband of my jeans, popping the button and tugging hard to get the denim out of her way. It’s frantic and clumsy, only because she can’t stop staring up at me. Her eyes flit over my mask as I stand above her, letting her work my pants down all on her own.

When they’re past my knees, she abandons them and makes quick work of my boxers. My cock is at full mast, bobbing near her lips as she licks them, attention finally drawn down.

Her fingers press into my thighs. “Fuck. It’s been like a week, and I forgot how big you are.”

I press closer, watching my head nudge against her mouth. “You can take it.”

Her tongue darts out and licks away the pearl of precum beading on the head. My molars clamp as I watch her savor it and strum her teeth over her bottom lip.

One side of her mouth quirks up as she turns her sultry gaze my way and taunts me again. “Too big. I’ll choke.”

I chuckle darkly as my cock hardens at this game she’s playing. I fist her hair. “Then choke on it, Tabby.”

Her mouth pops open as I thrust forward. Only a few inches fill her mouth, but it feels like heaven. I press farther on the next thrust, reveling in the suction of her mouth and the way she hums when she takes me. It sends a sizzle of heat down my spine.

“Yeah, baby.” I smooth a hand over her head, drawing her eyes to mine. The black of the mask frames my vision. “Just like that.”

Her cheeks hollow as she sucks me back farther. Her tongue swirls and her lips suction so hard that my vision blurs. She looks disheveled and hungry and hot as hell. I push the flimsy spaghetti straps off her shoulders and watch the tank top fall to her waist. She doesn’t let up, taking me deeper each time, even as her eyes water.

My fingers slip through her silky hair again as I praise her. “So fucking pretty like this. Sucking my dick like your life depends on it.”

Her lashes flutter and her gaze heats as she pulls off with a wet popping sound and whispers a deep, “Yes,” before lifting my cock and taking my balls into her mouth. I watch her press her legs together, seeking relief. Because if I know Tabitha at all, she gets off on this too. The same way I get off on spending time with my head between her legs.

I gasp as she sucks me in, hand twisting over my length. “Good god, Tabby.” My hands turn to fists in her hair, tugging her head closer, feeling the vibrations of her moans in every limb.

She works me and I groan as she pulls away and trails her tongue over the root of my cock. She hits me with the widest doe eyes before sucking me back in against her tongue.

And it’s my undoing.

“Baby, play with your tits and hold on,” I grit out, keeping her head in place. “Tap my leg if it’s too much.”

I push in, watching for any signs of distress, but all I see are glassy eyes, rosy cheeks, and the drugged expression that takes over her face just before she comes.

My hips pump into the heat of her mouth, and I hit the back of her throat. She makes a strangled noise, but her chin juts forward, seeking my next stroke right as her fingers twist and tug at her nipples.

“Fuck yeah, baby. You take it so good.” I thrust again, watching the way she struggles to take it all but comes back trying for more every time.

The heated way her gaze lands on my mask gets me off. And the desperate little whimper she gives when I withdraw pushes me over the edge. I come hard and fast, filling her mouth and watching her throat work eagerly to keep up.

My head tips back, and my hands soften in her hair as she goes from sucking to licking, cleaning me up like I’m her favorite flavor. When I look back down at her, her mascara is slightly smudged, and her lips are red and puffy.

“Thank you, Wild Side,” she says demurely, hitting me with a wink.

Without another word, I lift her to the table and look her over. She’s disheveled and panting, her shirt scrunched up like a belt around her waist.

“Spread your legs, Tabitha. I want to see how wet gagging on my cock made you.”

Her lips tip up, but she doesn’t move. “Make me.”

Fuck . Me.

A growl lets loose in my throat, and I don’t hold back. If this is what she wants, I can deliver.

One palm on each knee, I pry her legs open and spread her over the dining table just like I wanted to all those weeks ago.

Her pink pussy glistens, and my cock fills again at the sight of my wife spread on the table for me.

“Look at that.” I swipe my fingers through her wetness before stepping up close and pressing them into her ravaged mouth. “A fucking mess.”

She hums and sucks my fingers into her mouth, not backing down in the least.

“You need it here.” I press my cock at her entrance, running it over her.

She nods, tongue swirling around my fingers, and I wonder how far I should take this game she started. I lean in and whisper, “You’ve been watching me on TV, dreaming about taking my cock like the hungry little slut you are. Is that right?”

Her eyes flutter shut, and my fingers pop from her mouth as her head tips back on a moan. Yeah, my girl likes it.

I press in an inch and watch her writhe, head flipping back and forth, pussy gripping me hard. I pull out and fist my cock, feeding in that same inch. Teasing her with the tip.

“Use your words, Tabby. Is that what you want? My cock?”

Her tongue darts out over her lips as she pants, eyes latching on to mine. “Yes. I need your cock.”

Now it’s my turn to smirk at her. “Too fucking bad. I told you I was hungry.”

I pull out and drop to my knees between her spread thighs, pressing a palm to the inside of each leg and latching my mouth on to her pussy.

She shouts my name, part pleasure, part frustration, as she yanks at my hair.

All that does is make me double my efforts, alternating between penetrating her with my tongue and sucking hard on her clit. She’s close. I know by the way she thrashes and chants my name. By the way she clamps down on my tongue.

So I don’t let up. I hit a steady rhythm and let her fall apart with my name on her lips.

“Rhys!” Her back arches up off the table, and her legs wrap around my shoulders as she shatters.

It’s satisfying as hell. I let her ride the wave, slowing only as she softens around me. Her gasps turn to panting as she slings a palm over her chest, and I pull away to admire her.

The flush on her chest. The wetness leaking between her legs.

My handiwork.

Ready to go again and needing more of her, I run myself over her slick cunt. “You still need me to fill you up, baby?”

She peeks at me from beneath heavy, sated eyelids. Defiance and eager lust sparks in her irises. “I don’t know. I’m probably good?—”

I grip her hip and shove myself into her with one long stroke. Her head falls back, exposing her elegant neck, and a smile curves across her lips as I give her what we both know she wanted.

“You’re probably good at what, Tabby? Taking it like a champ? Spreading your legs for me?”

“Yes. Yes. I love being good at that for you.”

Pumping into her, I lick my lips, thriving on the little ahhs that spill from her lips. I hike her left leg over my shoulder while the other stays hooked over my elbow, and draw her closer to the edge of the table. As I slam into her, I go even deeper than before.

I can’t help but look down, breaths coming in harsh spurts as I watch her pussy stretch around my girth. Leaking on me and making a mess of us both.

“Play with your cunt, Tabby. I want to watch you come on my dick like this.”

Her hand flies to her clit, the other going flat on the top of the table, fingers spread wide in a desperate attempt at getting some purchase. It doesn’t matter. I fuck her so hard that the table makes a screeching sound every time I hit her with a forward thrust.

Her fingers rub rapidly over her swollen clit, and her breathless murmurs turn to breathless chants of “yes” and “just like that.” Her sounds of satisfaction drive me wilder and push me toward release for the second time.

“Tabby, Tabby,” I breathe. “Come for me, baby. Let me see it.”

Moments later, she does, gaze on mine as I slam into her, mouth popped open on a silent scream as her body arches off the table, legs shaking against me.

Watching her ecstasy is all it takes for me. Everything goes tight, and I topple off the same cliff as her. Coming hard. Filling her like I promised I would and whispering her name like a prayer.

When the sensation fades, I release her legs and rip my mask off. As she lies sated on the table, I drape myself over her damp body, dropping my face to the crook of her neck and breathing her in. One kiss to the top of her shoulder has her nails trailing up my spine as we lie together.

“Hey, Tabitha?” Her hands don’t stop moving when I talk.

“Yeah?”

“I might be in love with you.”

I can hear the smile in her voice when she responds. “Oh wow. You might be? How special. Let me know when you decide.”

That smart fucking mouth. I smile against her skin, letting a warm wash of adoration blanket me. “No, not might be . I am. I have been for a while now.”

Tabitha sighs contentedly. “That’s good. Because I’ve been in love with you for a while now too.”

She loves me.

It feels like a piece of my puzzle finally slips into place, the satisfaction of completion making me feel more whole than I could have imagined.