Page 34 of Royal Deception (Royals of the Underworld #2)

CLARY

T he way Rory looks at me right now has butterflies fluttering around in my stomach.

Hearing him talk about how much he admires me, how he finally sees me…

it makes me melt. Without thinking, I surge forward and kiss him, soft at first, but as the kissing grows more heated, Rory’s hands come up to tug me into his lap.

He’s being so gentle, and I can’t get enough of it. His hands gently roam over my back, brushing up and down the curve of my spine as he kisses me.

Rory pulls back for a moment, and the two of us look at each other, both a little breathless. He brushes his thumb over my cheek, as if memorizing this moment. Leaning in, he whispers into my ear, his breath tickling my neck as he asks, “Are you sure about this, Clary?”

I nod, my eyes soft and full of something deeper than simple desire. “I want this, Rory,” I whisper back. “I want you.”

He’s kissing me again, this time with an unhurried pace. Our mouths fuse together, tongues tangling as we explore each other’s mouth. Arousal pools low in my gut, and I marvel at the way he seems to just know what I want, his teeth nipping at my lower lip, his hands stroking my arms.

Everything feels like it’s happening in slow motion as Rory pulls back again, this time scooping me up to lay me out on the picnic blanket, his hands gentle as he traces over my body. His movements are gentle, reverent, as though he’s discovering me for the first time.

I close my eyes, a small giggle escaping me at the ticklish sensation of his fingers grazing over my belly. Then he leans down and presses a kiss there, murmuring, “You are so incredibly amazing, Clary.”

I blush at his words, my hands going up to cover my face, but he takes my wrist in his hand, gently tugging it away. “Don’t be shy, sweetheart,” he says, his voice quiet in this picturesque landscape.

The trees sway in the soft breeze overhead, and I look toward the clouds, swept up in the moment. Every touch, every kiss he gives me is slow and meaningful.

“You’re so beautiful, love,” he whispers. “I’ve never felt like this before with anyone else. You make me want to be the man you deserve.”

It’s strange how safe I feel being here with him. Despite the fact that Rory is a dangerous man, the leader of a criminal organization, I’ve never felt safer than I do in this moment. Being with Rory doesn’t feel like a mistake anymore. It feels like coming home.

His tongue traces a line over my exposed belly, dipping into my belly button and eliciting another giggle at the way it tickles. He seems amused by the reaction and does it again, this time wriggling his tongue across my lower belly, in a sensitive spot.

“Oh, Rory,” I moan, need growing inside me. “I want you. Please!”

“Patience, sweetheart,” he chides, biting his lip as he stares down at me, leaning on one arm to gaze into my eyes. “You’re mine, and I’m going to show you how much I care.” His voice grows husky, deeper.

The words send a shiver down my spine, the underlying promise making something curl up inside me, and I don’t know how much longer I can take.

But I want to enjoy this moment too. I don’t want it to end. So I close my eyes again, losing myself to the liquid heat in my veins, the sheer delight of having such a strong, dangerous man treat me like something so delicate and fragile.

It’s a rush, but it’s also intoxicating, knowing that he knows a hundred different ways to take me apart in every sense of the word.

But right now, he’s focused only on the metaphorical sense and that’s enough for me.

My thighs fall apart as he kneels between them, kissing up the column of my neck, leaving behind little bites, gentle nips. A long sigh falls from my lips as he nuzzles under my jaw, his rigid cock pressed against my center. I roll my hips, grunting as pleasure ripples through me.

“Oh, fuck,” I breathe out. “Rory, just like that.”

Rory grins, leaning up on one hand to look down at me. “You like that, love?” he asks, rutting his hips against me again.

I nod, tilting my head back as my arms come up to dig into his back. “Yes, you feel so good against me, so right. Don’t stop.”

He continues to roll his hips at an almost agonizingly slow pace, but I enjoy taking my time, feeling the warmth inside crawl to a slow simmer as our bodies move together. I gasp as he hits a particularly sweet spot, and he ruts into me again, sliding against that spot to elicit another one.

“Oh, Clary,” he sighs, bending down to kiss me. “I can’t get enough of this. Of you.”

I don’t know how I could have ever denied how much I feel for this man. I was so stupid to think I could have just been okay with staying his submissive, his mistress.

I might be falling in love with him.

I’m distracted from that thought when Rory’s tongue does a little flick in my mouth that has my eyes rolling back in my head. We’re still tangled up together, rocking against each other in a measured rhythm, but it’s starting to pick up speed.

The wind picks up as well, blowing a few strands of my hair as Rory ruts deeper, his fingers keeping a possessive hold over my waist.

“God, Clary, you are just so perfect right now,” he murmurs in my ear. It sends a shiver down my spine as pleasure crackles through me. No one has ever made me feel so special before, so desired.

Rory’s cock is straining against the seam of his jeans as he rubs himself against me, the seam of my pants bumping against my clit. A low moan slips out, and I clutch at him, pulling him down for a rough kiss as I feel myself getting closer to the edge.

“I want to come,” I beg in a soft whisper. “Please?”

“You don’t have to ask permission from me today, love,” he whispers back.

Throwing my head back, I spread my legs wider and angle my hips so I’m bumping up against him harder, a little faster.

Just as I think I can’t take it anymore, the orgasm ripples out from inside me, my hips slowing to a stop. I pant, catching my breath, and Rory catches me, rolling the two of us over so we’re on our sides.

“You make me feel so good,” I tell him. “Whenever you look at me like that, it makes me feel like I’m the most beautiful woman in the world.”

“Who says you aren’t?” he teases. “You’re the most beautiful woman to me.”

We lie there together for a moment, but I know Rory is still hard in his jeans, still ready for more.

And I am too. I want to feel him inside me again. I want to be completely wrapped up in him, naked, skin to skin as we come together under the blue, blue sky and the puffy white clouds.

This place is almost magical in its beauty. It’s serene here, just the babbling brook to the left of us and a line of trees to the right that lead deeper into the forest.

Rory reaches out, lifting my sweater over my head, his other hand at my waist, steadying me. His gaze is heavy with want, but there’s something deeper, something almost hesitant, as if afraid.

His fingers trail along the curve of my bare skin before moving to the clasp of my bra, undoing it with practiced ease. My breath catches as the straps slip down my arms, and his hands follow, tracing over my skin as if committing every inch of me to memory.

“Clary…” My name is a whisper, full of reverence, like a prayer. His hands don’t stray—not yet. Instead, he studies me, his expression raw, as if he’s afraid to blink and miss a second of this.

A shaky exhale escapes me as he kneels, his hands finding the waistband of my jeans. His lips brush against my stomach as he undoes the button, his breath warm against my skin. The way he looks up at me, heat darkening his eyes, makes my knees weak.

He slides my jeans down my legs, his fingertips gliding over my thighs, slow and deliberate. When he presses a kiss just above my knee, a tremor runs through me, and I reach out, threading my fingers through his hair.

Rory stands again, watching me as he pulls his shirt over his head, then reaches for his belt. There’s something almost ceremonial about it—the way he peels away the layers, revealing himself to me inch by inch. When he’s finally bare, I swear my heart stutters.

He steps closer, his hands cradling my face, and when his lips meet mine, the kiss is soft, almost achingly tender. He kisses me like he’s trying to tell me something without words, like he’s laying bare something deeper than just desire.

When he guides me down to the bed of moss beneath us, his weight settling over me, every movement is slow—lingering touches, whispered breaths, the unspoken promise that this is more than just a moment stolen in the dark.

And when he finally pushes inside me, the world falls away entirely.

There is no rush, no urgency—only this, only us, the way he moves, the way he holds me, the way our bodies fit together like we were made for this.

His forehead presses to mine, his breath mingling with my own, and the way he looks at me, like I’m something precious, something irreplaceable, steals the air from my lungs.

I cling to him, my nails digging into his back, my legs wrapping around him as the slow, steady rhythm pulls me deeper. Every thrust, every whispered sigh, feels like a confession neither of us is ready to say aloud.

But I feel it in the way he touches me. I feel it in the way he holds me afterward, pressing soft kisses to my temple as our breaths slow, his arms wrapping around me like he never wants to let go.

As the last waves of pleasure fade, Rory doesn’t pull away. He stays close, his forehead pressed against mine, our breaths still uneven, tangled together in the quiet night air. His hands glide over my back in slow, soothing strokes, grounding me, keeping me right here with him.

Neither of us speaks for a long moment. There’s no need for words. The way he holds me says enough.

Eventually, he shifts, rolling onto his back and pulling me with him until I’m draped over his chest. The soft breeze whispers through the trees, cool against our overheated skin, but I don’t feel the chill.

Not with him wrapped around me like this, his arms strong and steady, his heartbeat a slow, steady rhythm beneath my ear.

I trace lazy circles against his skin, savoring the warmth of him, the way his fingers comb through my hair in slow, absent strokes. It’s gentle. Easy. Like we’ve done this a hundred times before.

“You’re quiet,” Rory murmurs, his voice softer than I’ve ever heard it. “That’s not like you.”

I smile against his chest. “I’m just happy.”

His chest rises and falls beneath me, and when I glance up, his lips are curled in something dangerously close to a smile. Not his usual cocky smirk, but something real. Something warm.

“Well,” he muses, trailing his fingers along my spine, “if I’d known all it took to get you to shut up was making love to you in the middle of the forest, I would’ve done it a long time ago.”

I huff out a laugh, swatting his side. “You’re an ass.”

His arms tighten around me, his lips pressing to my hair. “Yeah,” he agrees, amusement threading through his voice. Then, softer, almost hesitant, “But you want me anyway.”

I smile and kiss his temple, snuggling closer as we let ourselves drift off for a moment, content to just be together for once.