Page 62 of Rags to Royals

If I wasn’t already sitting, my knees would’ve given out. I did not intend to fuck her when I came out here. But there’s no way I’m passing it up.

Yes, maybe we should take this slower, but it’s been nineteen fucking months. This is the woman I want more than I want anything else. If the sex was all that was really real between us—and I’m not at all convinced that’s true— then I definitely want that. I want her to remember that. I want to imprint that on her in every way I can as soon as possible.

I run my hand up her back into her hair and then slowly twist her hair around my hand. I hold her still and bring her face in closer to mine. “I should make you beg for my cock. You’re the reason we’ve both been without this for so long.”

She sucks in a little breath. “I know,” she says.

She does not apologize, however.

I file away the idea of making her really beg for later. I think she’d like it. She wasverydirty for me in New Orleans.

For now I say, “How about a little please, Scarlett?”

She wets her lips, and her mouth focuses on mine. “Please.”

“Please fill me up with your cock and make me come, Cian,” I command.

“Please fill me up with your cock and make me come, Cian,” she says obediently.

Oh, yes, she remembers how we were together.

She loved just letting go, letting me boss her around. I realize now that she has so much weight on her shoulders—being a mom, her work, her past—it probably felt good to just surrender to the pleasure.

Now that weight is all even heavier. This town, her reputation, her regrets and guilt, Mariah’s issues at school…

I know what Scarlett needs.

I tug on her hair, tipping her head back and pressing my mouth to her neck. I nip her throat then lick over the spot. “Has anyone ever made you come in this town?”

“No.” She’s already practically panting.

I wasn’t sure what to expect with that question. This is, after all, where she grew up and went to high school, where she got pregnant with Mariah.

“Oh, that’s right. You were such a good girl, weren’t you?”

She tries to nod, but I’m holding her hair too tightly. “Yes,” she says softly.

“Did you keep your legs together until Mariah’s dad?” I ask against her throat, dragging my mouth up and down the smooth expanse. It’s not as gratifying without my beard. I won’t leave behind the whisker burns I would have otherwise. Still, I love the feel of her skin against my mouth.

I feel her swallow.

“Yes,” she says.

“And I’ll bet he had to take you out on sweet dates, buy you flowers, act like a real gentleman to get his hand into those pristine white panties, didn’t he?”

She squirms on my lap. “Yes.”

I slide my hand down, cupping her through her shorts, pressing the heel of my hand against her clit, rubbing. “Did he make you come?”

“No,” she gasps.

I lift my head. I rub her more firmly and feel her pressing into my hand. No? He hadn’t made her come? Oh, I fucking like that. And that probably makes me an asshole. “How many were between him and me?”

“Two,” she says, her voice ragged. “And only one made me come.” She sucks in a breath as I press harder. “And it was nothing like you.”

I rub her faster. “Did you ride them, Scarlett? Has anyone else bent you over and fucked you from behind after he spanked your perfect little ass? Did any of them eat this delicious pussy until you were screaming and then keep going until you were sobbing?”

Her fingers dig into my sides, and she tries to shake her head. “No. God, no. None of that. Not until you.”

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