Page 24 of Royal Deception (Royals of the Underworld #2)

CLARY

I t’s still dark outside when I feel the bed shift and turn, peering through the darkness to see Rory’s silhouette as he gets ready for work.

“Is it time to get up?” I ask, my voice rough from sleep.

Rory had been distant last night when he got home after our fight at the office, but he’d still come to bed, still wrapped me up in his arms and held me close. Maybe he felt I’d been punished enough when he yelled at me.

“Shh, go back to sleep, Pet,” he says, his voice low and firm. “I’ve got an early meeting. Go ahead and take the day off. I don’t need you in the office today. I’ve got back-to-back meetings until tonight.”

I nod, but anxiety grips me internally. The gala is coming up in just a few days, so it makes sense that he’s busy, but I can’t help but feel a little pushed to the side lately.

Rory’s been spending a lot of time with Callie, ironing out the final details, making certain all the security is taken care of for the event. I know why. The looming specter of the Bratva causing chaos at the book premiere is still a very real possibility. It just sucks not having him around.

Forcing a smile, I draw the covers up and give him a sleepy smile as he kisses me on the forehead, then takes off.

The two of us never really talked after what happened yesterday, but it still hurts how Rory could dismiss me so easily. He was all too eager to lavish praise on Callie during their meeting, but the second I walked into his office, his expression turned sour.

I guess I was a fool to think he could have been talking about me on that phone call the other day. It’s clear now that the most important person to him is Callie. I’m just an afterthought. I frown, making a face as the jealousy creeps up again.

I bet he’d be beside himself if something happened to her. I wonder if I even matter to him at all or if I’m just a convenient plaything?

Determined to shake off the weight pressing on my chest, I spend the rest of the day tidying up around the place, trying to make myself feel useful. Eventually, I end up in Rory’s massive kitchen, sifting through the barely touched pantry.

Baking has always been a good distraction. Maybe a batch of cookies will help settle my thoughts.

The scents of warm vanilla and melted chocolate fill the air as I pull the last tray of cookies from the oven. Baking has taken the edge off my tension, giving me something—anything—to focus on.

Yet, as the day drags on, restlessness settles under my skin, clawing at me. The apartment feels too big, too empty. Every tick of the clock seems louder than the last.

Then my phone vibrates.

Rory: On my way. Be ready for me.

I stare at the message, then exhale slowly. I know what he expects. I know the routine.

As I shed my clothing, the restless energy inside me grows, tangling with something bitter and ugly. I should stop. I should call off the scene. But another part of me, one I don’t want to examine too closely, whispers that maybe I deserve to be punished today.

Maybe I’ll feel better when it’s all over.

The front door unlocks. My breath catches as I drop to my knees, collar in place. My heart hammers as Rory steps inside, his dark gaze landing on me immediately.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, shrugging off his coat. “Give me one second. I need to call Callie.”

Something inside me snaps.

Usually, the command would soothe me, grounding me in the control I crave. But tonight, hearing him order me to stay while he chats up his new favorite lady? It grates in a way I can’t explain.

I tilt my chin up, glaring at him.

“No.” My voice is sharp, cutting through the quiet. “You know what? No. Not tonight.”

Rory stills, his hands pausing mid-motion as he rolls up his sleeves. His expression sharpens. “Excuse me?”

“Fuck you. I don’t have to do what you tell me!” I snarl, pushing to my feet.

His gaze darkens. “You want to act out?” He steps closer, closing the gap between us. “You want to be a brat? Then you’ll be punished like one.”

My pulse pounds. The reckless thing inside me pushes forward before I can stop it—I lean in and spit on him.

A wet glob of saliva lands on his cheek, sliding down to his shoulder.

Silence stretches between us for a beat. Then, in a blur of motion, Rory grabs my wrists, yanking me up. “You want my attention?” His voice is quiet, lethal. “Fine. You’ve got it.”

Before I can protest, he’s dragging me toward the spare room, and something inside me unravels. My heart races, and I can’t tell whether I want to fight him off or surrender completely.

Marching me into the room, he grabs my wrists and clips them on the restraint hanging from the ceiling, then walks over to the closet and pushes it open, dragging something from the corner, something I hadn’t seen before.

My heart lurches in my chest at the sight of the strange item.

It resembles a workout bench, but there’s no weights on it.

Instead, there’s restraints dangling from the top corners and from just under the bench.

My gut churns, wondering what the hell it is, but Rory gets it situated before turning back to face me.

“This is a breeding bench,” he says, his voice so low it’s practically a growl. “I was saving it for a special occasion, but it looks like tonight’s the night.”

He pushes me toward the bench. “Now sit down.”

The intensity in his gaze has me obeying immediately, trembling as I sit gingerly on the edge of the bench.

He comes up behind me and lays me out on the leather surface, dropping my arms between the slats to hook into the arm restraints, then comes to the front to bring each leg up, strapping them to the restraints on each corner.

“You have a nasty little mouth on you,” he says, a sneer on his face.

Before I can even blink, he’s at my side, fitting the ball gag around my head and prying open my mouth to shove it inside. I nearly gag but swallow thickly instead as he caresses my bare ass. Despite the humiliating position, I feel my pussy grow wet under his touch.

“Here.”

Rory shoves something into my hand.

“It’s a golf ball. Drop it if you need me to stop the scene.”

I’m not going to drop it, I think to myself with a bitter laugh. I can handle a little pain.

But then Rory pushes something hard, slick, and round inside me. He pushes it deep, then another, and another. It feels a little uncomfortable, but excitement mounts in my belly, wondering what he’s going to do to me.

“Three Kegel balls,” he announces. “Keep them inside. If you drop them, you won’t get off for a month.”

Kegel balls? Fuck. I can do this. I’ll show him.

Then he holds up a toy so I can see. It’s a clit sucker, red, shaped like lips. My stomach drops. I knew punishments were supposed to be tough, but this is starting to feel like Mission: Impossible .

He presses the silicone toy against my bud, flicking it on before moving it in slow circles.

Fuck. I curl my toes, trying to resist giving in to the pleasure.

“This is such a delightful little toy, don’t you agree?” he asks. My eyes are trained on him, neck straining with the effort of holding my head up. “But the default setting is a little boring. Let’s try the next level up.”

I throw my head back, the restraints holding me in place, leaving me unable to escape the torture as the vibrations increase. The balls shift inside me, and I clench down, trying to keep them from falling out as best I can.

He doesn’t relent. It’s pure torture trying to resist the mounting desire, the overstimulated throb of my cunt, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that. I keep my face neutral, almost bored.

But it’s starting to get harder.

I don’t know how long it lasts but when the pressure finally lifts for a brief moment, it feels like a physical weight is gone from my chest. I exhale, my vision blurry but unwilling to show weakness by letting a single tear fall.

“You can be so good when you want to be,” Rory says, his voice light but tone mocking. He grasps my chin and turns me to face him, his eyes on mine. “But instead, you choose to act like a brat. And I was going to give you such a fun night, Pet.” He clicks his tongue. “So selfish of you.”

A sudden seed of doubt takes root in my chest, spreading like poison. Am I the selfish one? Am I the one destroying whatever fragile thing exists between us by trying so hard to force more than he’s willing to give?

The toy returns once more to my sopping core, the pressure increasing even higher. My body responds, even though I feel sick inside.

God .

What’s wrong with me?

I’ve been such a selfish, horrible bitch.

Rory made it clear from day one that he could never give me anything but this. I told him that was fine. I said I wanted this too.

And yet, I acted like a jealous, petty girlfriend yesterday. I had no right to him. I have no right to him.

Why am I like this? Why do I need to please people so badly that I twist myself into knots to be what they want—and yet Rory is willing to give me everything he can, and it’s still not enough for me?

Tears slip down the sides of my face, my hands trembling as a new panic takes hold. The restraints feel too tight, too confining. I need to get free.

I don’t even notice until it’s happened that I’ve dropped the golf ball. It clatters to the floor, echoing in the sparse room.

My eyes widen as I register what’s just happened, but Rory reacts immediately, untying me in a matter of seconds. He pulls the gag from my mouth and helps me to my feet, the Kegel balls tumbling uselessly to the floor.

“I’m sorry,” I choke out, the words tumbling from my lips in a frantic rush. “I–I didn’t mean to—I just?—”

“Shh, I’ve got you,” he murmurs, scooping me into his arms as if I weigh nothing. “It’s okay, Clary. I’ve got you.”

I cling to him, burying my face in his chest as he carries me out of the playroom and into his bedroom. The familiar scent of him—dark spice and something distinctly Rory—wraps around me like a safety net. He lays me down on the bed, brushing damp hair from my face.

“Count to twenty for me, Pet,” he instructs gently. “I’m going to run a bath.”

I nod, my breaths still shaky, and start to count under my breath.

When he leaves, the panic intensifies for a second, but by the time I reach seventeen, he’s back, pulling me into his arms again.

The distant sound of rushing water fills the room, but all I can focus on is the way he holds me, rubbing slow circles into my back, murmuring soft reassurances against my temple.

When the bath is ready, Rory strips off his own clothes then lifts me effortlessly, stepping us both into the warm water. The heat seeps into my skin, easing the tension from my muscles as he pulls me close, my back to his chest.

“You’re safe,” he says, pressing a kiss to my shoulder. “You’re okay.”

I close my eyes, letting the steady rise and fall of his breathing calm me. His hands move with tender care, running a soapy washcloth over my arms, my legs, my body—not touching to claim, but to comfort.

The warmth of the water soaks into my skin, grounding me, and everything starts to feel like it’s slowing down, giving me the space to breathe.

“I didn’t mean to drop the ball,” I whisper through trembling lips, my voice thick with tears. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to disappoint you. I’m sorry I was bad.”

His touch pauses for a moment, his hand resting against my skin. “You did it for a reason,” he says softly. “You’re not bad. You’re very, very good. I’m proud of you for knowing your limits, Pet.”

The words slice through the knot of guilt in my chest, and I let out a shaky breath. Something in me finally loosens, the tension dissipating just a little more.

We lie there together for a while in the water, soaking away the remnants of the scene. I cry a little more, but by the time I’m calmed down, the water starts getting cold so Rory lifts me out of the tub and carries me to the bedroom, wrapping me in a fluffy robe after drying me off.

We lie together in the bed for what seems like hours, but at some point, Rory stands up, walking over to the dresser.

My eyes linger on him as he pulls something out and brings it over.

It’s a box, and he opens it, revealing a stunning necklace, a simple silver chain with a deep blue crystal pendant.

The back has some kind of lock, and I reach for it, a puzzled expression on my face.

“Only the person with the key can open it,” he says, his voice low and steady. “It’s an Eternity Collar.”

My heart leaps into my throat.

“Clary, will you be my submissive? Permanently?”

My breath catches, and I stare at it, realizing this might be the closest thing to a proposal I’ll ever get from Rory.