Page 61 of Shameless Royalty

My brain short-circuits.

I blink up at him, completely thrown. “You’re what?”

Connor chuckles again, dragging a hand through my hair again, fucking soothing me without me even realizing it. “I’m adom,” he repeats, amused at my shock. “This isn’t my first time dealin’ with someone crashin’ after a high like that.”

I stare up at him, my brain struggling to process what he just said. Connor Cunningham is a fucking dom. It makes too much sense, and I hate that.

“You really didn’t know?” he asks, amusement lacing his voice.

I glare at him. “How the fuck would I have known that?”

Connor smirks, like he’s enjoying my reaction a little too much. “Thought maybe you’d picked up on it with all the ways I’ve had you under me lately.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re such a dick,” I mutter, scowling.

He laughs, rubbing his thumb against the nape of my neck again, his voice dropping just slightly. “Ah, but you like it.”

I don’t dignify that with an answer.

Instead, I focus on my breathing, on calming the chaos still swirling in my chest. Connor doesn’t rush me, doesn’t push, just holds me against him, letting me figure my own shite out while he runs his fingers through my hair.

And maybe that’s the part that gets me the most. The fact that he knows what I need without me having to say a fucking word.

“Wait,” I mutter, frowning. “If you’re a dom, does that mean you’ve had—”

Connor smirks slightly, his thumb brushing my cheek. “Subs before? Aye, I have.”

Something ugly twists in my chest before I can stop it. The thought of someone else in this position—of someone else melting under his touch, responding to his voice, being his—makes my stomach churn.

I don’t even fucking realize I’m reacting until Connor goes still, his fingers pausing mid-stroke against my scalp.

Then, slowly, he pulls back just enough to look me in the eyes. “Oh?” he drawls. “What’s this now?”

My face burns. “Shut the fuck up.”

“You’re jealous.” Connor grins, his green eyes lighting up like I just handed him his favorite fucking Christmas present.

“I am not jealous, you twat,” I snap, but it’s weak.

Connor’s smirk fades slightly as he watches me, reading me like I’m an open fucking book. He hums low in his throat, rubbing his thumb over my cheek like he’s testing something.

Then he leans in, his lips brushing my ear. “You don’t have to be jealous,mo stóirín,” he says, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “You’re the only one I want.”

I let out a shaky breath, nodding and glaring at him. “I don’t want anyone else to have you,” I admit.

Connor goes still, his fingers tightening slightly against my cheek like he wasn’t expecting me to actually say it.

Ican’t fucking believe I said it.

The words just slipped out, like they’d been buried under my skin for too long, waiting for the right moment to break free. But now that they’re out in the open, I don’t regret them.

I can’t, not when Connor is looking at me likethat.

His usual cocky smirk is gone, and his green eyes flicker over my face, studying every inch of me, his thumb still brushing lightly against my cheek.

“You used your words,” he says, his voice softer now, like he’s proud. Actually proud. “Good boy.”

A violent shudder surges through me and heat rushes up my spine, my body reacting before I can even process what’s happening, and fuck, he knows. Connor grins, but it’s not smug or teasing this time. It’s something warm, something that makes me feel seen in a way I don’t understand but fucking crave.

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