Page 27 of Queen Crow

“Are you hungry? I can cook us some dinner?” I say, but when I turn, Aodhan’s eyes are glued to the long lines of my legs and the curve of my ass in this dress. I chuckle at him and he smirks back.

His phone starts ringing in his pocket, and he says as he digs it out, “I’m hungry but not for food. I’ll be one minute, Queenie.”

I roll my eyes, because there’s no way he’ll only be one minute, but a plan has already come together in my head for us both now, and I head up the stairs to my room.

What’s the point of all of the lingerie I have if I’m not putting it to good use?

I’m absolutely right in that it takes him half an hour to find me, but when Aodhan steps through the door, his eyebrows hit his hairline as he takes me in.

I felt kind of ridiculous waiting in here for him, wearing nothing but the under-bust corset, suspenders, and my favorite pair of Louboutins, but the hunger and desperation in his eyes makes it worth it.

“What are you up to over there, Queenie? All of my favorite parts of you on display like that makes me think you’ve been planning this all day. In a church and everything. What would God think of that?”

I smile at him and step forward, his eyes dropping down to the way my chest bounces a little with every movement. He licks his lips, an unconscious action at seeing his next meal dressed up for him.

Men are such simple creatures sometimes.

“We’re not all good Catholic men, O’Cronin. Some of us are heathens who love nothing more than sinning, especially when the outfits are this good.”

His eyes are still on my nipples, budding up perfectly under his keen gaze. I let one of my hands drift down my hip, right until it meets with my pussy, already wet at just the sight of him and the anticipation of what’s to come.

A soft groan rips out of his throat as my fingers start to move, my lips parting on a moan, and finally the control he has over himself snaps as he throws himself across the room at me.

It’s hard not to giggle at how eager he is, how fast he crossed that room to get his hands on me, but then his lips are on mine and every thought disappears from my mind exceptmore, deeper, harder.

He backs us up until his legs hit the bed, pulling me down onto his lap and grunting when my hips grind down onto him, my bare pussy rubbing against his jeans.

I have to speak before I let him sweep me up into this moment and I don’t get to try something out, so I tear my lips away from his. “Can you do something for me?”

He nods as he moves to kiss my neck, his hands running up my sides and stroking over every inch of my soft skin that he can. It’s a desperate move, like it’s been so long that he thinks he might have forgotten what it feels like to hold me close.

I almost cave and change the plans because his hands feel perfect pressed against me, the callouses dragging a little and giving me the most delicious friction. But I force myself to lean forward, pushing him down and pressing him back against the mattress as my body covers his completely. “Keep your hands at your sides. If you can keep your hands off of me until I tell you to touch me, I’ll let you fuck me however you want the next time.”

He smirks at me, squeezing my breast with one hand and tweaking my nipple before dropping his hand back down to his side. His voice is a rough rasp, all Mounty street kid as he murmurs, “You sure you want that, Queenie? I can think of a lotta things I wanna do to you right now, and at least half of them will probably be too much for you.”

Too much?

That feels both insulting and like a challenge, one that I’m already fully prepared to take on. As long as it’s not something gross… I’m not into feet or golden showers. Or sex in the kitchen.

Jesus Christ, what if he wants to stick something weird inside of me?

I can’t imagine him wanting that so I say, “We need a safe word but sure, whatever you want.”

The grin he gives me in return is lecherous, and I gasp as he pinches my nipple again, this time a little harder, until my thighs are clenching around his waist. I give him a stern look and repeat, “Keep your hand at your side.”

He grins roguishly at me and moves it back down to the bed, all faux submission that is entirely too charming on him. I realize immediately that I should have gotten him naked before he was lying down, but it’s easy enough to strip him with simple commands that he follows obediently.

Once I have his jeans and underwear off, I climb back up his body, hesitating for a second as I hold myself up over his dick because wanting to try this out and actually doing it are two very different things.

I clear my throat and just say it, “We haven’t tried this position much since… well, I wanted to give it another go.”

His brow furrows, but I don’t want to spoil the moment so I lean down to kiss him again, one hand on his cheek as the other one wraps around his already-hard dick. He grunts again, his hands balling into fists at his side as he forces himself not to touch me, but after a few firm pumps of his dick, I pull myself up to sink down on it, taking him all the way down to the root.

It feels fucking amazing, none of the fear or shame breaking through, and when I plant my hands on his chest and begin to move, the look of adoration and worship in his eyes is almost too much, too real for me.

I stare at him though, I take it even as I roll my hips and take every inch of his hard cock as it pulses inside of me. There’s something so fucking powerful about this position, about this man lying there and letting me take whatever I need from him right now.

I watch as the sweat begins to bead around his temples and his jaw clenches as he tries to keep himself under control, and I feel like the queen he’s always calling me.