Page 18 of Glorious Ruin
“I’m not ashamed of him,” I choked out. Covering her hand with mine, I took a shaky breath and decided to give her the ultimate truth. “I’m proposing to him. Before we leave the island on Tuesday.”
Rosa’s hands flew to her mouth, a tear spilling over her lashes as she let out a quiet, joyful gasp before pulling me into a fiercely tight hug. “Oh, Callum. He is going to be so happy.”
An hour later, the pay per view was in full swing. I met Maverick in a secluded hallway near the loading docks. He handed me a folded, pristine Puerto Rican flag, and gave me a knowing look with a heavy pat on the shoulder.
“You taking care of my boy?” he asked in a gruff voice laced with unspoken emotion.
I met his eyes. “For the rest of my life, Mav,” I promised quietly.
A slow, proud curve took over his lips. “Good man. Give ‘em hell tonight.”
Evan’s mid-card match was currently happening in the ring, and I knew Silas was standing in Gorilla position with his eyes glued to the monitors to support him. Which meant the men’s locker room was entirely empty.
I slipped the flag into a gift bag, courtesy of Rosa, but before I headed back to the staging area, I detoured. In the deserted locker room, Silas’s heavy leather duffel bag was sitting on the bench next to mine. I quickly checked the hallway again. Still empty.
I unzipped his bag and reached into my pocket, pulling out a brand new light-blue thong and laying it delicately on top of his folded clothes. Then, I grabbed the small, sleek, black silicone plug.
This wasn’t justanyplug. I bought it online weeks ago. It was remote-controlled, completely silent, and currently synced via Bluetooth to a discreet app on my phone. When I pressed the button on my screen, I watched as the silicone hummed to life in my palm. It was a vicious, deep vibration that caused a coil of heat to form in my lower stomach before I turned it off and slipped it right next to the thong.
On my phone, I drafted a text, scheduling it to send exactly ten minutes after our match was slated to end.
Shower. Plug in. Thong on. Your night isn’t over.
I zipped the bag back up, a dark and completely depraved smirk plastered across my face. Silas would have absolutely no idea that I held the controls.
By the time I changed and walked into the staging area, the adrenaline was turning my blood to battery acid. Silas was already there, changed into the new tights with his long, regal robe. He did indeed look like a god. He looked exactly like what he was: the next World Heavyweight Champion.
I hadn't tried my new gear yesterday, only pulled it out of the bag. It was a lot heavier than I expected. The chains, patches, and safety pins weighed the denim of the kilt down. I had the World Heavyweight Championship belt strapped securely around my waist, which also added weight, and a spiked black leather jacket over my shoulders. And for the first time since my indie days a decade ago, I rimmed my eyes in a heavy, smudged black eyeliner.
Silas’s jaw dropped when he spun to see me. His sparkling brown eyes dilated so fast, they looked as black as night.
Rosa, who was adjusting the collar of his robe, noticed his reaction. She leaned in, nudged him gently in the ribs, and whispered loudly enough that I could hear, “Your man is incredibly handsome, no?”
Silas physically jumped, his head whipping around to look at her.
I managed to catch his eyes when they darted back to me, and gave a slow, confirming nod.She knew. Silas let out a staggering breath while a massive, brilliant smile broke across his face. Rosa laughed, pulling us both into a tight hug. She checked over our gear one last time before herding us toward the tunnel.
As we walked from staging to Gorilla, Silas leaned into my space. He pretended to check the clasp of my title belt so nobody would notice, but his mouth was right at my ear.
“The eyeliner,” he groaned. His low, gravelly tone sent a vibration straight to my balls. “Cal. You have no idea what it’s doing to me. You look…filthy.”
His gaze was hungry, like he wanted to rip the kilt off with his teeth, right there in the hallway.
“You like it?”
“I want to ruin it. Do you have more? Of the makeup?”
“In my bag. Why?” I asked innocently.
“You’re gonna put on more,” he ordered, lust and desire dripping from every word. “When we get back to the hotel tonight. Put it on because I want to see it run.”
I suppressed the smirk that threatened to take over. “You’re bossy today.”
“I’m winning a title tonight,” he breathed. “I get to be bossy.”
I smiled, thoughts of the plug hiding in his bag and how he’d likely react taking over. “Focus, Champ. Let’s go to Gorilla.”
The roar of twenty thousand fans in the arena was deafening and shook the concrete floor beneath our boots. Production assistants ran around with headsets, barking orders, yelling questions, and counting down the seconds.
