Page 31 of Glorious Ruin
Silas let out a breathy, delirious laugh, his hands shaking as he lifted the camera. “You’re out of your fucking mind.”
“Take the damn picture, Silas,” I murmured before dropping back to my knees between his spread thighs.
I resumed my assault on his cock, taking him so deep, my eyes watered. With my head angled perfectly, our eyes made contact through my lashes and he let out a wrecked groan while lifting the camera. With only a few slight adjustments, he proceeded to capture the explicit memory of me on my knees with my mouth absolutely ruining him.
Click. Whirrrr.
Picture taken and printing, he dropped the camera onto the mattress with a soft thud. His hands flew to the back of my head as I finally pushed him over the precarious edge and swallowed him down. As he fell apart, his thighs clamped around my ears, and his body bowed off the mattress as he whispered my name like a breathless prayer.
Later that morning, as we lay in a tangled heap of limbs, I picked up the developed Polaroid. I grabbed Silas’s wallet off the nightstand, opened it, and slid the photo into the back slot.Who knew I could rival the photos I had taken of him in his little red thong last spring?
“There,” I smirked, tossing the wallet onto his bare chest. “Now you’ll have to look at exactly what your husband does for you every time you reach for your credit card.”
Silas let out a loud, ringing laugh as he pulled the back of my neck, kissing me deeply.
“You’re such a dick.”
For a few more hours, we existed in a perfect, filthy, beautiful bubble. But, the second we walked through the loading dock doors of the arena, the suffocating pressure of the UWF dropped right back onto our shoulders. The air was thick tonight for Showdown. A mix of hairspray, sweat, and the chaotic hum of live television production.
We headed straight to catering, a massive room filled with folding tables that buzzed with the chaotic energy of talent and staff. We were supposed to be “coworkers,” “ex-rivals,” or “old friends from the rookie years,” but we were doing a spectacularly terrible job of hiding it.
We sat shoulder-to-shoulder in the corner; me scrolling through my phone, trying to look disinterested in the man next to me, while Silas reviewed his promo notes on a printed sheet of paper. He never even looked at my plate, but his hand kept drifting over, plucking grapes and pieces of grilled chicken off the styrofoam tray in front of me. I didn’t stop him. I just naturally shifted my plate closer. Hell, my knee was pressed so firmly against his under the table, we were practically sharing a joint.
“You guys know you’re essentially breathing the same oxygen, right?” Evan slid into the folding chair across from us, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. He kept his voice low, a casual, highly-amused smirk settling on his face.
I blinked, pulling my eyes away from my phone. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the fact that if you sit any closer, you’re going to physically merge into one person,” Evan deadpanned. He reached over and blatantly stole one of my fries. “Silas literally just ate off your fork. Your shoulders are fused together, and I can practically see the cartoon hearts floating above your heads right now. You’re cute, but you’re really, really bad at this.”
Silas and I shared a look. It was clear we couldn't hold it in anymore.
“Come on,” Silas murmured to Evan, grabbing his plate and standing up. “Walk with us.”
Evan raised an eyebrow but grabbed his water bottle and followed us out. We didn’t stop until we pushed through the heavy metal fire doors and stepped onto the concrete loading dock.
“What?” Evan looked between the two of us, his amusement fading into slight concern. “Did you guys kill someone? Because I don’t have a shovel in my rental car, and I’m not going to prison for you.”
“I proposed,” I said.
Evan’s eyes darted from my completely-serious face to Silas’s beaming one. “JesusChrist—Already?”
Silas smiled, pulling his left hand out of the pocket of his track pants and holding it up. The black tungsten ring gleamed in the late afternoon light.
Evan lunged forward, pulling us both into a massive three-way bear hug. He slapped Silas on the back so hard the sound echoed around us. “It’s about damn time!”
Evan and I headed over to the Gorilla position, standing behind the curtain near the main monitors. I hung back, staying near a stack of equipment crates with my arms crossed over my chest, watching Silas.
He was standing a few feet away, illuminated by the harsh backstage lights as he nodded along to whatever the head writer was saying. The UWF World Heavyweight Championship belt was casually slung over his massive shoulder, and my brain short-circuited at the sight.
Those gold plates, the ones that represented the absolute pinnacle of this industry, were the same plates he painted with his cum last night.And I have pictures of it.Putting the filthy and lustful thoughts the sight of that belt now spurs aside, seeing my man wield the power it holds, while knowing he belonged entirely to me, filled me with an overwhelming pride.
“Hey, Kincaid!” someone called from down the hall. I suppressed a groan, tearing my eyes away from Silas, and spotted a mid-card duo. Atlas Knight and Ethan Roberts were heading my way with their gear bags.
“Tough loss yesterday, man.” Atlas clapped me on the shoulder a little too hard. “Hell of an Ironman, though. But hey, look on the bright side. You got free time now that you’re not carrying the company on your back.”
“Yeah,” Roberts smirked, leaning in like we were sharing some frat-house secrets. “Plus, Dani’s been hangin’ around catering lookingreallonely lately. Hottest chick you ever snagged, man. You gonna take a spin round that block now that you got your nights free?”
My stomach dropped, a cold wave of guilt washing over me. I kept my face blank, but internally, I was spiraling.
