Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
WREN
I stare at Sire’s front door with excitement bubbling under my skin and questions popping off like, “Shouldn’t you carry me over the threshold?”
He chuckles. “That’s tomorrow night.”
Since he popped the big question, he’s been smiling a lot, which is really rare and ruining my panties.
“And you’re okay with it?” I ask, squeezing his hand. “That I don’t want your entire congregation at our wedding?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s just that … some still judge me. So, I just want us.”
He kisses my hair. “Just me, you, and my family, I promise.”
I tug his hand. “Are you sure you can’t marry us, too?”
“I can’t officiate my own wedding. But you’ll like Evelyn. She’s our Minister Emerita. She doesn’t have a judgmental bone in her body.”
“A woman minister? I’m impressed.” He lets go of my hand to enter the door code, while my allergy to filters makes me blurt, “You know, for a year or so, I thought of being a nun.”
He’s focused on the door. “What thankfully changed your mind?”
“I got really horny and wanted to fuck and learned that the patriarchy is bullshit.”
He laughs, “Shocker: you don’t think men should be in charge of everything.”
“Do you?” I laugh with him. “I mean, too many men are either perpetually thirteen or sociopathic dicks.”
“A dick is not the measure of a man.”
“Spoken like one with a very big one. Oh, and I saw your brothers’ too. It’s genetic. No one is over-compensating in your family.”
He smirks, pushing the door open. “I’m well aware of what my bride saw. We clearly have a lot to talk about tonight.”
I hike my backpack up and step inside, but halt, surprised when my boot crunches down on a manila envelope. “What’s this?”
“Fuck.” Sire grits his teeth. “He has to ruin everything.”
“Who?”
“My sperm donor.” He drops his backpack, and I lift my boot before he angrily swipes the envelope off the floor.
“Is it one of your father’s clues?”
I pick his pack up and take it with mine to the laundry room. Turning back, I find him staring at the envelope like it’s a ticking bomb.
“Probably,” he scowls.
“Are you going to open it?”
“Why should I? I don’t owe him anything but a bullet to the brain.” I wince. It’s as if he can sense it because Sire turns to me. “Sorry, Angel. I don’t mean to ruin a night like this.”
“Okay, then.” I march toward our coffee maker. “Let’s drink some java, open that damn letter, read it, talk about it, shower, try a sixty-nine tonight, get married tomorrow, finally fuck, and move on. Deal?”
Reluctantly, he chuckles. “You and your deals.”
“Take it or leave it.”
I fill the carafe at our kitchen sink, totally bluffing, of course. I’ll do anything with Sire at any moment. Especially with these huge diamonds sparkling on my finger.
Every time I think about his perfect proposal, I get those happy tears.
He starts ripping the envelope open but stays devilishly focused on me. “I’ll take your deal but with a modified sixty-nine.”
“Modified?”
He smirks. “I’m six five and my beautiful wife will be five feet. So, yes, we’ll always have to be very creative.”
“You mean, I’ll be your shorty and you’re my zaddy?”
He draws up, standing even taller. “You’re what and your what?”
“A shorty is a pretty young woman, and a zaddy is a hot, older man.”
“As long as you’re my hot-ass wife for life,” he tsks, “call me whatever you want.”
“Deal.” I turn to fill the machine. “And when you say, ‘very creative,’ can it involve sex swings and benches? Oh, and vibrators, toys, and cute anal plugs like I saw at the club? Lucy, the bartender, highly recommended the store, Delta’s.
She said they have the best lube for my first time with you, and—”
I turn back, but he’s not paying attention. His face is stone, his eyes fixed on the piece of paper.
I press the brEW button, giving him a minute before I softly probe, “Sire? What does it say?”
It makes him seethe, “He wants to know my blood type.”
“What? Why?”
He tosses the letter on the counter. “The only reasons I can think of are for a blood donation, an organ transplant, or—”
“Or for pregnancy and paternity.”
“How’d you know that?”
I shrug. “The only thing I know about my parents is that one probably had an AB blood type because I’m AB negative, and it’s the rarest type. If I ever need blood, I’m screwed. It’s hard to find my match.”
He walks my way, pulling me into his arms. “I’m O negative, a universal donor. I’m your match.”
“Just another sign I was right about us.” I palm his chest. “Why does he want to know your blood type?”
“Knowing him? Probably for paternity. To see if I’m really his heir, or some shit like that.” He lifts me, setting me on the countertop before him. “But fuck him right now. He’s not ruining tonight, tomorrow, or our lives. Deal?”
I smile as his sexy lips near mine. “Deal.”
Sire always opens me with his kiss. He starts soft and slow, but deepens his penetration, his tongue dancing with mine. His breath pulls me under with our moans, and I’m found, I’m unfurling. A heavy throb aches between my legs, opening my world and thighs to him.
I’m sitting tall enough to sink my hands into his hair, and pull hard, needing more of him, but he lifts his lips from mine, panting, “Birth control?”
“I’m on it.” My eyes drift open to find his, surprised. “I had an IUD put in when I turned seventeen. It’s not that I wanted to have sex then. I didn’t. But I wanted protection in case I had no choices and a man ra—”
“God, Wren.” He nuzzles my forehead. “God, I’m so thankful you’re safe with me now.”
“Me, too.”
“But maybe you should keep the IUD in for a while.” He winces like it’s the last thing he wants. “Until I kill my father, I don’t want him trying to take another grandchild. It’ll be hard enough getting Axel’s child back.”
“What if you’re wrong? What if Axel’s wife wasn’t pregnant when she left him?”
“I hope I’m wrong about Katya, but I don’t think so. I’ve never had a woman beg me so many times to breed her, and that’s saying a lot because I…uh…well…”
He shuts up, realizing the hole he’s digging for himself.
I chuckle, amused. “Oh, please, tell me your body count, future husband, because we know mine is zero.”
“Fuck.” Gently, he pulls back. “This is a coffee conversation.”
“No, let’s have it now before boiling hot liquids are involved. Just tell me.”
“You’ll get mad.”
“Maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll get aroused.”
He cocks his head with an unsure smirk. “Aroused? By who I’ve fucked in the past?”
Sire doesn’t get it, and I understand. He thinks I’m a delicate flower while I feel like a feral lioness.
Maybe I’m like most women.
I’m both.
“You said it yourself.” I wrap my legs around his, holding him close.
“You have a past, and I don’t. You’ve never been in love, but you’ve had dark needs.
I don’t care about anyone else. But I care about you.
I want to know the dark stuff. The breeding stuff.
You can’t tell your future wife that you belong to a fetish club in Atlanta and not tell her about it. ” I pause. “Before our wedding.”
He shakes his head. “You might run away, screaming.”
“Or … I might come, screaming.” I beckon. “Come on. Spill the tea.”
He throws his stare to the ceiling. “If I tell you this, you have to know I didn’t love any of them.”
“I believe you.”
“Alright then.” He looks at me, sighing, “Honestly, I don’t know my body count or the names for most, and that’s how I liked it.”
“Liked what? What did you do with them?”
“Find a filter and let me tell you. Then, you can blurt questions. Deal?”
I shake his hand. “Deal.”
He keeps mine, pressing it to his heart. I can feel it pounding in his chest.
“Wren…” He gets quiet, searching my eyes. “This is hard to tell you, and I don’t know why.”
“Because you fear I’ll judge you about your bisexuality or your kink, but I won’t. I promise.” Softly, I shrug. “You’ll have to be understanding with me tomorrow night, for my first time, so let me do it for you now. I understand you have a breeding kink, and…”
“And,” he breathes, “that can mean different things for people. A few really want to get pregnant, but most eroticize the role play, the risk, or the power of it. For me? I eroticize the domination of it. I’m known for it.
I can fuck really long and hard, and I like to talk very dirty, almost degrading.
But I never actually wanted to get a woman pregnant or have unprotected sex, so I’d wear a condom and come on them, never in them. ”
“Them?”
I’m not appalled; I’m aroused. My imagination is on fire. How could he think I’d judge him for this? I want this.
“Yes, them. Mostly, I fucked couples, husbands and wives, or groups who wanted me. I had a liaison at the Atlanta club who’d contact me when someone asked about me.”
My eyes widen. “Like a pimp?”
“No.” He chuckles. “There was no money exchanged. But I insisted on consent, medical screenings, NDAs, rules, and such. So, there was some prep involved.”
“When was the last time—”
“Last year,” he rushes like he wants to get this over with. “I haven’t been with anyone since.”
“Why?”
“Because I realized I was trying to fuck my pain away, and it wasn’t working.”
I touch his cheek, suddenly worried. “Your pain?”
“Yeah.” He swallows. “The rage I have for my dad. The worry I feel for my mom. The guilt I have for betraying Axel. The way I really want kids so much it hurts, but I don’t deserve them. The way I’ve had this dark hole in my heart my whole life … until I met you.”
He cups my face. “I meant it today, Wren. I’ve been praying for you this year. Twice a day, I’d ask God to send me the love I never felt before, even if I didn’t deserve it.”
“You deserve love, Sire Rutledge.” I seek his lips, wanting to make his pain go away. “And I promise I’ll give it to you every day. I’ll love every part of you, because they’re not over when we get married.”
“Wren,” he vows, “I’ll never fuck another woman again. I can’t. I’m too in love with you.”
“What about men? I can’t fill that need for you.”
And I can’t find an insecure bone in my body about it.
Maybe I’m too sure we’re meant to be together. Maybe I love him too much. Maybe I want to take all his pain away, like he killed mine, and I want him to be happy. I want Sire to be free of his guilt and shame.
He pauses, considering my offer. I can’t tell if he’s tempted or touched. Or maybe both.
“Just because I’m bisexual,” he explains, “it doesn’t mean I can’t be with one person.
In fact, it’s all I want. I want to love and marry you.
Only you. I told you, I’m a hypocritical patriarch that way.
” Softly, he smirks, caressing my waist. “I want to keep you as my badass, hot wife, all pregnant and barefoot with my babies.”
I love his hypocrisy.
His honesty.
I love him.
I love him this much…
“But the other night in the tent with Nash and Jace, I sensed it; you liked the domination over me, and I liked it, too. You liked showing me off,” I blush, “and I liked you sort of sharing me.”
Pensively, he brushes his fingertips down my neck to my cleavage, letting me feel the jagged scar on his partial pinky; his proud sacrifice for me. Forever, I’m secure with him. Goosebumps bloom in the wake of his touch, desire tightening my nipples.
I stare at his menacing beauty and truly see Sire; he is a powerful contradiction.
But so am I.
Maybe we all are.
I know what I want, and how I want it with him. How we can talk about it, and we won’t judge. We’ll always love.
If this is marriage, this safety and seduction I feel with him, then ours will last beyond a lifetime. It’ll be bigger than our hearts can contain, maybe our bodies, too.
His eyes lock on mine, letting me see God and the Devil reflected in their blue depths.
“As my wife…” gently, he fists my hair, “you’re mine, Wren. Only mine. You belong to me, and I’ll behead anyone who tries to put our love asunder.”
I believe him.
Evil heads roll around Sire.
He brushes our lips together. “But as my queen, I’ll serve you. I’ll share you with the kings, but only the kings. They care for you, too. They’ll protect you and never hurt you. So, if you want to explore your fantasies, explore them with us.”
“But what about your fantasies?”
“My only fantasy is to make you MY wife.”