Page 89 of Sire
I clutch his jacket, needing him, demanding him. The low, aroused groan he emits makes me forget where we are; I don’t care.
I belong with Sire.
My husband.
With panting breath, he pulls away, his burning eyes locked to mine while he tells everyone, “Leave.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
SIRE
I’m a verydark and twisted man for what I’m about to do.
I’m not even embarrassed when the minister excuses herself. With all my years of service here, I’ve earned this sacred sin.
The guitar player packs up while the photographer takes a few photos, and I fight for patience. Holding Wren’s hand, mywife’shand, has my instincts raging to have her.
Now.
My mother protests, wanting us to join her for the dinner she’s planned, but my brothers smirk at me, understanding.
“Let’s take a raincheck, our queen.” Axel appeases Mom. “We have the rest of our lives to celebrate their union.”
He cuts me an evil grin before leaning down to peck Wren’s cheek. “Welcome to the family, our little poisonous princess. We’re honored to have you.”
Wren beams, blushing at my brother’s kiss. One by one, they press their lips to her cheek and offer praise, admiring my wife.
It really stirs my cock when it shouldn’t.
Delphine pulls Wren into a hug. “Call me tomorrow. You will have woman questions and I will help.Oui?”
“Yes.” Wren nods, and my dick swells more, knowing that after tonight, I’ll leave Wren with no question about who she belongs to.
Adding to the fire in my veins, Delphine nods to me. “I left your bag under the second pew, my king.”
“Your bag?” Wren wonders.
“Don’t question your husband,” I joke.
“I’m Nick, and congratulations.” My sweetest brother introduces himself with a kiss to Wren’s forehead. “Sire’s praise didn’t do you justice. You’re breathtaking.” He punches my arm. “And a saint for loving this devil.”
“Ouch.” The fucker’s so strong that actually hurt. I rub it, laughing. “Don’t you have a quarterback to sack somewhere?”
“I got his sack right here.”
Zar teases, proudly holding Nick’s hand as he kisses my cheek. “My second king,” his bearded lips linger over my flesh, “always a pleasure to see you.”
He pulls back, and I catch Nick, amused by his man before Zar adds, “Your stunning wife is as hot as a two-dollar pistol. Hurry up and make her a queen, so we can play.”
“Play?” Wren questions again.
Zar turns to her, gently cupping her bare shoulders. “You have questions for me, I know. Let me take you to a queen’s lunch this week, and I’ll tell you everything.”
“It’s a date.” Wren beams.
And it’s a loving, lecherous jolt I get, recalling Zar’s initiation and how he’ll tell Wren about it.
How he’ll tell her that I took him hard and from behind. How I stood, bending him over and grabbing his shoulders. How he begged me to breed him and pound him until he came on the table. But how I didn’t come. I refused to, knowing Wren was waiting in bed for me.
