Page 19 of Royal Deception (Royals of the Underworld #2)
RORY
I stare down at Clary, lifting one brow. “Must I remind you that we agreed never to discuss our private business at work?” My tone is low, edged with a note of warning.
Her lips part, guilt flashing in her eyes, and I watch as she catches her breath, a little tremor in her hands as she smooths them over her skirt. She’s nervous, anticipating what’s to come.
Without breaking eye contact, I reach out, trailing my hand down her side—slowly, deliberately—before squeezing her ass in a firm, possessive grip.
She jumps, a soft gasp escaping before she bites her lip. Her cheeks flush, and she quickly drops her gaze. “Sorry, Sir,” she murmurs.
The way she says it sends a sharp pulse of heat through me, but I push it down. Not yet.
I release her just as smoothly, my voice dropping even lower. “You’re not getting out of your punishment, Clary.”
She shivers. I smirk.
Rules exist for a reason. Boundaries keep us from crossing dangerous lines. But that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy watching her squirm until then.
The next few days are nearly torturous, the two of us dancing around each other while trying not to make any physical contact. I can tell Clary is nervous, the anticipation building as she wonders what her eventual punishment might be.
Finally, the day of our weekly appointment arrives and I watch Clary leave the office in a hurry, smirking to myself as I wait a few minutes before shutting down my laptop.
Now that the mess with the Russians is on the back burner, I’m free to give myself over to Clary for the evening.
I arrive at my apartment just as Clary is starting to get undressed, but I step behind her, wrapping my arms around her. “Not today,” I whisper in her ear. She shivers and turns in my arms, looking up at me with a questioning gaze.
Reaching down, I pluck the collar from its resting place, then fasten it around her neck before leading her to the playroom. She stands in the middle of the room, glancing around as she shifts from foot to foot.
“I’m going to undress you today, Pet,” I inform her.
She bites down on her lower lip, watching me intently as I move to unbutton her blouse, taking my time undoing each pearlescent button, then undoing the buttons at her wrists before sliding the garment off her frame.
Her breasts seem fuller, rounder than I remember, and I study them for a moment, lost in tracing the outline of her shape.
“Beautiful,” I murmur, kneeling at her feet to take off first one heel, then the other. Once they’re off, I reach up to undo the zipper on her tweed pencil skirt. “Brace yourself, Pet,” I tell her, and she leans forward, placing her hands on my shoulders as she steps out of the skirt.
I sit back on my heels, hands wrapping around her waist as I bury my face in her belly. It’s curvier than I remember. Maybe she’s gained some weight? I don’t mind. I think she looks sexier than ever, frankly. I love a woman with a little extra weight to her. Stick-thin models aren’t my type.
Breathing in her soft, powdery scent, I pull back and gaze at the stunning creature before me. I plan on worshiping this goddess tonight, giving her something extra special to make sure she knows how I feel.
Her underwear set makes my mouth water. They’re champagne colored, covered in lace flowers, and the bottoms dip down into a V-shape, just under her navel. I have the urge to tear them off with my teeth.
Instead, I stand up again and lift the bralette above her head, folding it before putting it to the side. I reach out to grasp the waistband of her panties and pause, blinking as I realize that her cheeks are on full display.
Holding back the moan that threatens to erupt, I dig my fingers into the lace and drag them down over her shapely legs slowly, inch by inch.
Finally, she’s naked in front of me, and I lead her to the bathroom where I help her into the tub, starting the water up. I know she’s still waiting, wondering what her punishment might be, but I want her to relax, to take her mind off that for now.
Slowly, I stroke the wet washcloth over her skin in smooth circles, washing her body all over. I take extra time on her breasts and between her thighs until she’s almost squirming, but I pull away at the last moment.
Her cheeks are flush from the warmth of the bath now, her skin pink from being scrubbed clean. I help her up, rivulets of water sluicing down her body, and lean in, licking one droplet off her left nipple.
A soft sigh escapes her lips as I begin toweling her off, making sure to get her nice and dry. I linger over her buttocks, wiping each side slowly and deliberately. Once she’s sufficiently dried, I bring her back to the playroom.
“Get onto the bed, Pet,” I say, a thrill running through me as I see her gaze has turned heavy, her movements slower and more languid.
She lies on the bed obediently, and I feel my blood pounding in my veins, excitement rising. I grab what I need from the closet and return, hooking each hand and each foot to a specially designed restraint which is connected to an O-ring on each bedpost.
She’s spread-eagle before me, and I lick my lips, climbing onto the bed to kneel between her thighs. Her body quivers but my hand darts out, pushing her back down.
Propping myself up on my elbows, I part her pussy lips and begin to lick her already-dripping core, savoring the sweet, musky taste. She can’t move. She’s trapped, completely helpless, and her whines are music to my ears.
My tongue traces the outline of her labia, gliding through the slicked-up folds with ease. I focus all my attention on her throbbing little clit, teasing it over and over as she gets worked up, unable to move, to push my head against her for more friction. She’s trapped.
Her body still tries to rock against my tongue, but she’s pulled up short, forced to endure as I take my time pushing her up the cliff, toward the edge.
Her whines get louder as she gets closer and closer, and just as she’s about to come, I pull away and sit back on my heels, a smug grin on my face.
“That’s one,” I tell her, licking the slick off my lower lip. “Your punishment is that I’m going to ruin your orgasms twice. Once for disobeying my orders last week. And once for bringing up our personal life at the office.”
Clary’s lips part and she gapes at me, confusion and frustration in her eyes. She pulls impotently at the restraints, unable to get free.
“If you need to use your safe word, what is it?” I ask, sinking down to my previous position.
“Pumpkin,” she forces out through gritted teeth.
“Good girl,” I praise. “Very good.” And with that, I start the process of bringing her to the edge once more as I lick over her clit, swirling circles into the bud, my fingers joining in to tease at her entrance.
Two fingers push inside, curling toward me in a come-hither motion as I stroke her soft, spongy inner walls, her body moving as much as the restraints will allow.
She’s crying out now, closer than before, and I can tell from the way her walls clamp down around my fingers. I thrust in and out, rubbing incessantly against her spot as my tongue curls around the fleshy gem at her apex, suckling the bud between my teeth.
Loud moans and whimpers echo through the room, and I can tell she’s almost there. This time, I continue as long as I can before pulling away, ruining the orgasm just as she starts to find her release.
“No!” she cries out, tears gathering in her eyes. “Please, Sir, please! Please don’t stop!” The tears streak down her cheeks and she sobs, a complete mess as I unhook her restraints.
“You’re all done,” I murmur, wiping her tears away. “No more.”
She sniffles, the tears continuing to fall silently as she tries to gather herself together. It’s so exquisite, seeing her like this. She makes a perfect picture with the way the tears track down her cheeks, behaving so obediently despite the fire inside.
“I need you,” I say, pressing her into the mattress as I line myself up with her entrance.
“Yes, please,” she whispers. “Please, Sir.”
“Call me Rory,” I say, my voice nearly breathless as I ease into her dripping cunt.
“Rory, please, please. I need you too,” she whispers back as I sink inside her, the two of us fitting together like two halves of a perfect puzzle.
I hold her close, our bodies intertwined.
I want to fuck into her relentlessly, pound her into the mattress until we both collapse from exhaustion, but something has me holding back, the desire to show her how good girls get rewarded overriding my urge to fuck her senseless.
So I move slowly, lacing my fingers with hers, our bodies moving in a smooth, sinuous rhythm of coming apart, together, then falling apart once more, over and over.
Her back arches and she cries out, reaching the peak even faster, but this time, instead of pulling away, I urge her onward.
“Come for me,” I say, but it’s not an order, only a request.
Her body shudders to a release as she shakes apart, eyes squeezing shut. I lean down and kiss her lips, moving my hand down to tease her clit without stopping my hips.
“Oh, God, fuck, Rory!” Clary moans the words out, music to my ears.
“That’s right, baby,” I say, gripping her hip with one hand while the other teases her bud. “Come on, come for me again. I owe you another orgasm since I ruined two of yours.”
She whines high in her throat, her pussy fluttering around my cock as we make love, our eyes locked together. “Rory!” she cries out, obeying immediately as she releases again, her juices spilling all over me.
“That’s it,” I say. “I’m going to make you come one more time. Can you do it?”
She shakes her head, her breathing coming in fast pants. “Too much!”
I grin, leaning down to suck a mark into her neck. “You can do it, baby,” I purr as I circle her clit again, urging her toward a third climax. She makes a few noises of protest, but they die down as I move my finger faster, pushing her past her limits. “Come for me,” I order.
Finally, with a shout, she releases again, her walls squeezing my cock so hard that I find myself falling over the edge as well this time.
As Clary is cleaning up to get ready to leave, I sit against the pillows, watching her silently. Something happened tonight, something I wasn’t prepared for. I don’t know if I’m making a mistake by allowing her so close to me, but I have to be careful.
Because if I’m not—if I don’t maintain stricter boundaries between us—I know I’m in danger of falling for Clary completely and thoroughly. But I can’t have that. I need to remain in control, to keep her at a safe distance.
Maybe part of the problem is this tenuous agreement between us. If I made it into something more permanent, I might be able to keep those boundaries intact. I could have my cake and eat it too—enjoy Clary’s company while not letting her get too close.
I stand up to head into the bathroom and clean up, satisfaction growing as I think about the benefits of such an arrangement. After all, with strict boundaries, what can go wrong?