Page 66 of Shameless Royalty

Malachidoesn’trealizewhathe’s just done to me. The second that “Yes, sir” fell out of his mouth, unfiltered and perfect, it was like setting a match to gasoline. My obsession with him—the way he fights, the way he sasses, the way he burns so fucking brightly—it’s always been bad.

But now? Now, it’s worse.

I tighten my grip on his waist, dragging him forward until he’s straddling my lap. His towel is gone, leaving him bare and vulnerable, and fuck, he’s so hard it’s almost painful to look at. Thin, curved and cut, his cock is just begging for my mouth.

My hands slide up his thighs, deliberately avoiding the place I know he wants me to touch. “You’re a fucking brat, but tonight, you’re my good boy, and you’re gonna get rewarded for it.”

His breath catches and his hands come up to grip my shoulders, but he doesn’t pull away. I can feel the tension rolling off him, the way his body trembles under my touch, and it only makes me want to push him further.

“You’ve been good, haven’t you?” I ask, my lips brushing against his skin as my hands slide higher, skimming over his ribs.

He glares at me again, but his hips shift instinctively, pressing closer. “Don’t start,” he snaps, though his voice cracks slightly.

I smirk, dragging my nails lightly down his sides just to hear the way his breath stutters. “What’s wrong? Can’t handle a little praise?”

“Fuck off,” he growls, his tone warning, but it only makes me laugh.

“Relax,” I murmur, leaning back slightly so I can look up at him. “I’m just going to make you feel good. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

His jaw tightens, his pride warring with his desire, but I can see it in his eyes—he wants this. He just doesn’t know how to admit it yet. I slide a hand between us, wrapping my fingers around his cock, and his breath hitches, his nails digging into my shoulders. Then I lean forward to spit on his pretty dick and stroke it.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his head tipping back as I stroke him slowly.

“That’s it,” I murmur, my voice low as I watch him come undone in my lap. “Let me take care of you, pet.”

His hips buck into my hand, his breath coming in shallow gasps, but he doesn’t fight me. If anything, he’s leaning into it, his body betraying him even as his pride tries to hold on.

“You’re so fuckin’ perfect,” I tell him again, my thumb brushing over the head of his cock, smearing the precum that’s already gathered there. “So responsive. So desperate. Look at you, already fallin’ apart for me.”

“Shut up,” he snaps, his voice shaky, but there’s no real bite to it.

I grin, leaning forward to press a kiss to his chest, my free hand sliding up to grip his waist, keeping him steady. “Why? Because you know I’m right?”

He doesn’t respond, his nails digging into my shoulders as I pick up the pace, stroking him with deliberate precision, knowing exactly how to push him closer to the edge without letting him fall.

“You want to come, don’t you?” I tease, my lips brushing against his skin as I tighten my grip on his cock, stroking faster now. “You’re already so close. I can feel it.”

His breath catches, his head tipping forward as he glares at me through half-lidded eyes. “Connor—”

“Say it,” I interrupt, my tone coaxing. “Say you want it. Say you want to come for me.”

He hesitates, his pride clinging on by a thread, but then I twist my wrist just right, and he breaks.

“Please,” he whines, his voice barely audible, but it’s enough to make my blood run hotter. “Please, I want it. Ineedit, Connor. Please make me come.”

His hips buck against my hand, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he fights to hold on, but I can feel how close he is. He’s right there, teetering on the edge, and all it takes is one more push.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” I growl, my hand working him faster now, relentless as I coax him closer and closer to the edge. “Give me my prize, baby. Make a mess of me.”

The words are barely out of my mouth before he breaks, his body tensing as his release spills over my hand and splatters onto my chest. He moans my name, the sound raw and desperate, and I fucking live for it.

“God,” he breathes, his voice wrecked as he collapses against me, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

I stroke him through it, milking every last drop as I press soft kisses to his neck, his jaw, his temple. “That’s it,” I praise, my voice rough but soft. “That’s my good boy.”

He groans, burying his face in my shoulder, and I smirk, licking his release from my fingers as he tries to catch his breath. When he finally pulls back, his cheeks are flushed, his lips slightly swollen, and he looks so fucking wrecked and beautiful that it almost hurts.

“Thank you,” he mutters, his voice quiet but sincere, and the words hit me like a fucking sledgehammer.

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