17. HARTFORD, CONNECTICUT #2
He didn’t answer, just opened the small tube of lube.
With his weight settling against the mattress, he coated his fingers and moved between my legs.
There was no more rushing or fervent need as he mercilessly teased me.
He circled my entrance, pressing just enough to make my hips jolt, then he pulled away completely to trace the seam of my inner thigh, again and again.
When he finally pushed a finger inside, I hissed, my hands flying out to grab handfuls of the hotel sheets.
“Mmm, fuck!”
“Patience,” he soothed, pushing my knees against my chest. “Should I make you wait? Make you beg? Is that what people want to see?Why I should be by your side?”
“No,” I groaned, tossing my head back. “Silas, please. I need you. Stop worrying about them.”
“Then make me forget.”
He continued to drag it out. Five minutes. Ten. Adding more fingers and stretching me with a slow, agonizing thoroughness. I was panting with sweat beading along my forehead as a desperate need to be filled thrummed in my veins.
“Please,” I begged again, my voice breaking. “Silas, I need more.”
“Are you ready for me, baby?”
“Yes. God, yes.”
His weight settled completely over me, his forearms bracketing my head as he pushed the head of his cock inside me. It was slow, an agonizingly thick invasion, and I gasped, throwing my head back into the pillows.
“Look at me,” Silas ordered once he was fully seated.
I forced my eyes open to see him staring right at me with an intense gaze as he began to thrust. The rhythm wasn't slow. It was punishing. A relentless cadence as he seemed to try to erase the words and gossip swirling through his head.
“Who owns you?” he growled on an upward thrust. It hit my prostate dead center, and for a moment everything blurred.
“You do,” I sobbed, my hands gripping his biceps. “Only you.”
He increased his pace, and the sensation was incredible.
My breaths started coming in short, sharp gasps as my hips snapped back against his involuntarily, trying to chase more friction.
Pleasure built in a way it never had, too fast, too sharp, and completely unmanageable.
I reached down to touch myself, desperate for release, but before my hand could even get there, I was on the brink of coming.
“Silas! Fuck, I’m close!” I shouted, my eyes rolling to the back of my head.
My orgasm hit me like a goddamn freight train, and I came without even stroking my cock. Convulsions violently ripped through me, causing my back to arch and my toes to curl. Cum spurted against my stomach in forceful jets from nothing more than him being inside me.
Silas froze and watched me fall apart; his thrusts stopped and his eyes went wide. “Fuck,” he breathed.
He managed to drive into me three more times, hard and fast, before my name ripped from his lips, and he poured his own release deep inside.
I collapsed in on myself, completely spent. Silas pulled out gently, sitting back on his heels, admiring his handiwork. My release was splattered across my skin, leaving a beautiful, erotic mess against my stomach and tattoos as we tried to catch our breath.
“Hands-free. You’ve never done that before.”
“Shut up,” I mumbled, my face burning. “I didn’t know I could.”
“Fuck, I love that your mine,” he said, satisfaction dripping heavily from his voice. A lazy finger trailed up my thigh as his eyes fixated on my release. “Definitely mine.”
“I should clean this up.” I reached for the sheet. As soon as my fist made contact, Silas caught my wrist in a vice grip.
“No,” he said holding my gaze. His eyes were dark again, hungry in a completely new, feral way. I’m pretty sure my brain stopped working entirely.
I watched, paralyzed, as this man ran his tongue over every hill and valley of my stomach, tasting me and cleaning the mess off my skin like he was savoring a meal.
It was primal, filthy, and the most possessive thing anyone’s ever done to me.
When our eyes met again, a dark smirk played upon his lips.
“And you’ve never done that,” I groaned as I watched him swallow.
“New rule.” He shrugged. “I don’t waste anything.”
Silas had been making little pop-shot jokes at me all morning and complaining quietly about how his lower back hurt and that “some people” didn’t know how to pace themselves. Even though the digs were directed at me, I felt light and happy.
We had barely walked through the talent entrance of the arena when Evan stopped us. He appeared out of nowhere, blocking our path to the main hallway, with an intense expression.
“Hey,” he started in a low voice while glancing around to make sure no one was listening. “I just saw the assignment sheet. Presley put you guys in the B-block storage room again instead of the main locker room.”
My good mood evaporated instantly. I sighed, dropping Silas’s hand.
Silas’s jaw tightened. “Are you kidding me?”“Don’t you dare try and act like it’s nothing!
” Evan fumed, crossing his arms. “It is insanely illegal. You guys need to talk to HR. Besides, there’s been some talk going around that Presley may be on thin ice with his dad anyway because of the PR mess.
Maybe you could get him fired for workplace discrimination. ”
A heavy sigh escaped as I rubbed the back of my neck. “It’s pointless, Ev.”
“Cal’s right.” Silas shrugged, though he looked defeated. “If we bring it up, it just puts a bigger target on our backs. And then inevitably it’ll get swept under the rug, and Presley will find a way to punish us in the ring.”
A string of curses tumbled from Evan as he threw his hands up. “I hate this for you guys. Presley is literally just punishing you because he can. Like a petty, vindictive assh—”
“REED! KINCAID!”
The screeching voice echoed down the concrete hallway, and all three of us turned. Evan clenched his jaw and bit his tongue as Presley marched toward us, his face set in that permanent scowl.
Forcing Ev to stay back, since he looked like he wanted to punch our CEO, Silas and I headed for Presley.
Once in range, he grabbed us by our arms and pulled us into a makeshift office near the loading dock, slamming the door behind us.
He took his place behind a folding table and glared before clearing his throat.
“Listen,” he began with a half-hearted and entirely insincere grimace. “I apologize for yelling at you in the hallway the other day. It was unprofessional.”
We didn’t respond.
“But, with that being said, the decision still stands. You will dress in a separate area so nobody in the locker room feels uncomfortable with your…dynamic.”
Silas and I just stared at him. The sheer audacity of this guy was staggering.
“There’s also a new policy we’ve just rolled out. As of today, talent are not allowed to wear wedding rings or visible bands when on television. It takes away from kayfabe and distracts from the storylines.” Now that he was finished, he crossed his arms.
I scoffed audibly as that had to be the most ridiculous thing I’d ever heard. Married wrestlers had worn silicone bands in the ring for years.
“You can’t be serious?” Silas countered, taking a step toward the table.
“You expect me to believe there’s a new dress code specifically for married couples?
I find it hilarious that you want to police what grown-ass adults wear as a signal to their real lives just because you’re mad about a storyline. ”
Presley’s face flushed a deep crimson as he fired back.
“You’ve caused enough trouble already, Silas!
The Reed family has done nothing but be entitled and a drag on this company for decades.
I suggest, if you value your career in this industry, you do exactly as you’re told.
No rings. No main locker room. You are employees in this building and nothing more. ”
Presley dismissed us with a wave of his hand, shooing us out like vermin he needed to exterminate. We left the room as instructed with the door clicking shut behind us, but I was raging inside my head.
As we walked down the hallway in silence, the way-too familiar weight of defeat settled once again on our shoulders. Silas looked gutted.
I knew I needed to protect him. Save him from his head and the crater this company and Presley was forming, so thankfully, I thought ahead.
Currently burning a hole in my pocket was my phone, which I had set to record before entering the building.
I now had the entire conversation, the uncomfortable comments, the very targeted policy, as well as his vague threats, saved to my voice memos.
If I knew anything, it was that this wasn’t going to be the last time Presley hit us with something.
And to protect us, I’ll collect everything and do what needs to be done.
Our lives weren’t going to know what calm was again for a long while. This war within the wrestling world was just starting, and I was prepping the best way I could to make sure our asses were covered.