Page 59 of Royal Bargain

I freeze, half-naked, breath caught in my throat.

“I didn’t give you permission for the rest,” she murmurs, walking a slow circle around me like a lioness assessing a kill. “Sit.”

I lower myself back onto the edge of the bed, pulse hammering.

“Now.” Her fingers brush down the line of her own throat, drawing my gaze like a magnet. “You’ve been, how shall I put this? Distracted lately. Letting your mind wander. Not giving your professor the attention she deserves.”

I nod, eyes fixed on her. “I’ll do better.”

“Oh, you’ll do exactly as I say.”

She steps between my knees, slowly unzipping the pencil skirt she must’ve changed into when I wasn’t looking. It drops to the floor, revealing nothing underneath but a sheer slip of lace. My mouth goes dry.

“You’re going to put that silver tongue of yours to good use, Mr. Brannagan. I want to feel your devotion with every kiss, every touch. You are not allowed to rush. You are not allowed to get distracted. Your only job—” she leans in, lips brushing my ear, “—is to worship me.”

“Yes, Professor,” I whisper, barely able to breathe.

She climbs onto the bed and reclines like a goddess awaiting sacrifice, one leg bent at the knee, the other trailing off the sideof the mattress. “Start at my ankles and work your way up. Slowly. Thoroughly. And if you get ahead of yourself?”

I meet her gaze, and there’s no teasing in it now—just pure control, radiating from every inch of her.

“I’ll make you start over.”

I’m already half-hard just from the way she’s looking at me—stern, expectant, powerful.

“I can be a good boy for you, Professor Volkov,” I murmur, my voice soft, low, and just a little husky.

I lean down, my mouth trailing reverent kisses up the delicate arch of her ankle, over the curve of her calf, pausing to inhale the scent of her skin like it’s sacred, holy.

She threads her fingers through my hair, tugging just sharply enough to make me groan, to make my cock jump. I continue my journey up her leg, leaving feather-light kisses across the pale expanse of her thigh, stopping here and there to slide my tongue against the creamy skin.

Her breath hitches, and she closes her eyes as I worship her. She tastes like honey and power and the best sin I’ve ever committed. I can’t get enough and by the time I reach the junction of her thighs, the air has thickened between us, electric with anticipation.

“That’s it. Just like that. Good boy,” Ana praises. My mouth latches onto her inner thighs, sucking marks into the skin. They tremble under my mouth and I feel like I’ve just earned redemption.

“Keep your eyes on me,” she commands as I slide my tongue into the damp folds of her fluttering pussy.

Her legs tighten around my shoulders as her control begins to slip, voice faltering with each gasp. “Don’t… stop,” she orders, words punctuated by moans.

If heaven exists, it’s here, between her legs, under her breathy moans. She arches her back and I sweep my tongue fromside to side, lavishing attention on her clit like it’s the answer to life, the universe, and everything.

She rides my tongue with slow, grinding confidence, using me like a toy she owns as I continue my ministrations. Watching her take full control is delicious. I’m enjoying every minute of worshipping at her altar.

I lick her slow and reverent, as if every inch of her was made of scripture.

My tongue maps her like she’s a country I never want to leave—every ridge, every slick curve memorized and thoroughly loved. I trace the seam of her with tenderness that makes her thighs tremble beneath me.

She’s wet, hot, and shaking under my mouth—a veritable live wire of need wrapped in velvet.

Each flick of my tongue is precise, deliberate, calculated to make her lose control piece by piece. Moaning into her heat, I’m greedy for her, as if the pleasure of the act is the only thing keeping me alive.

She grinds herself against my mouth, and I grip her thighs harder, keeping her in place as she starts gasping now, breathless and undone and I don’t let up for a moment.

Right now, Ana tastes like want, like power, like something I could die trying to earn. With a few more slow, deliberate strokes, she shatters against my mouth, spine arched, my name spilling from her lips like a whispered prayer.

Her fingers twist in my hair as she breaks apart, thighs clenching around my head, holding me in place. She’s wrecked, breathless, and completely undone as her whole body goes taut, then she collapses against the bed like a queen finally satiated.

Her smile is a mix of pleased and smug as I sit up next to her, awaiting my next order. She rolls over to the side, eyes half-lidded and gazes at me, stripping me bare with just a look.