Ruling Class – Kings of High Court College Read online J.A. Huss

Categories Genre: Dark, New Adult, Romance, Suspense Tags Authors:

Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 121913 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)

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Ruling Class - Kings of High Court College

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

J.A. Huss

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You want the diamonds? You want the mansion? You want the lake, and boats, and the cars? You want the security? And the man?
Then you do what you’re told.
I live in his castle. I sit at his feet. I wear his collar. I am his offering.
The Chosen Ones… the Ruling Class.
They are a breed apart. And yes, that pedigree matters. Not just anyone can rise above and become their equal. It takes sacrifice .
Ruling Class is the final book in the Kings of High Court College Duet by New York Times bestselling author, JA Huss. It is a dark bully romance with triggers.
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J.A. Huss


The night is thick with heat the way most August nights are around here. Thick like the water from the lake doesn’t stop at the shore, but instead follows you around like something lost and seeking.

It’s quiet too. Just three sounds, really. Waves lapping up along the long-forgotten beach behind the Old Alumni Inn, my fast-paced heartbeats, and a set of ragged breaths.

Our bodies are slick with sweat and they sway as one in the massive rope hammock that hangs from the porch rafters. But it’s the kind of sweat earned through pleasure. Proof that not even the humid August night will keep us apart.

The porch and hammock are the best things about the room Cadee and I claimed at the inn. The room itself needed a lot of work, something we figured out that night she came to save me because it started raining sometime around four AM and water rushed in from hidden holes within minutes.

The Old Alumni Inn has been abandoned for ten years for a reason. And all of us were having second thoughts by dawn.

Believe it or not, it was Isabella who became the inn’s champion. Whenever one of us balked at the work that needed to be done on the place just to make it livable, she would point out an architectural detail or some piece of history proving it special and savable.

“We don’t need special,” Selina had said. “We have one more year. Who cares where we live?”

Isabella did, that’s who.

And Cadee. Since it was her million-dollar payout from Dante footing the bill and she is a freshman, not a senior.

We were all cut off from our money and privilege within the hour after I had my final say with my father. But we knew that was coming and it had been three weeks between the purchase of the inn and my sunset speech at the tomb. We worked hard during those three weeks. And the two since, as well.

And even though I had my doubts too, it’s working out OK.

I have grown fond of the loose floorboards and the peeling plaster. Maybe seeing the place through Isabella’s eyes instead of my own.

“What are you thinking about?”

Cadee’s question makes me smile in the darkness as the crickets pick up their summer song and, little by little, erase the quiet and turn it into something else while we continue to sway in the hammock.

“Ice cubes.” And then the hammock is rocking hard as I extract myself from our tangled bodies.

“What? Where are you going?”

“Hold, please.”

Then I go back inside and pull on a pair of shorts, enjoying her confused giggle as I leave our room and go downstairs to the kitchen.

Everything creaks as I walk through the house. Floorboards, stairs—hell, even the railing rattles as I grab the substantial artichoke-shaped finial cap at the landing and jump down the remaining four steps.

Someone is in the kitchen and I’m surprised to find Ax standing in front of the new stainless-steel fridge, lit up by the interior light, holding a jug of milk up to his lips. I stop before he sees me and look at his upper body. At the tattoos—not only the familiar rampant lions across his chest, but the demons and devils all up and down his arms. Then my eyes drift to the scars on his back and I shake myself out of the spell he casts.


Ax turns, caught, and laughs into the jug—which is just gross—but keeps guzzling. Then comes up for air, wipes his mouth with the back of his wrist, and grins at me.

“How many times have I told you not to drink from the fucking jug, Ax? We all drink that milk.”

He caps the milk, slides it onto the shelf, and closes the door so the only light left is filtering in from a side porch. “How many times have I told you not to fuck Cadee on the fucking porch?”

“It’s hot out, man. Way too hot to have sex inside.”

“Hey.” Ax’s broad smile comes with a shrug. “I don’t care where you fuck her. And you should not care how I drink my milk.”

“One has nothing to do with the other.”

He cocks his head at me in the near darkness. “Doesn’t it?”

“What are you doing up?”

“Well.” He sighs. “I was jerking off to you two—”

I laugh. I know I shouldn’t, but I do.

“—and then when we were done, I wanted some fucking milk.”

“We, Ax?”

He gives me a one-shoulder shrug. “I like to get the timing right, ya know? Kinda brings it all home in just the right way.”

“Dude. I can’t. It’s way too hot to deal with you right now.” I open the freezer, take out the ice-maker tray, and carry it over to the counter so I can search for a bowl.

But Ax has been different since we moved into the inn. He takes his shirt off now. That’s the most obvious change. What his mother did to him over the years wasn’t really a secret. He’s had those claw marks on his back since he was a little boy with spiky brown hair. And the way he tells it, they were there when he was born.