Page 65 of Shameless Royalty

“Fuck you,” I snap, though the words lack bite, my body betraying me as I arch into him, chasing the heat of his touch.

But then he steps back slowly, his smirk wicked as he sinks onto the edge of the bed. His legs spread, his forearms resting on his thighs, he looks like he owns the fucking world—or at least me.

His green eyes rake over me, and then he lifts a finger, curling it in a slow, beckoning motion. “Come here, you sweet little thing,” he murmurs, a command wrapped in honey.

I hesitate for a second, my pride flaring to life, but my body betrays me. My feet move before I can stop them, and within seconds, I’m standing in front of him, my hands fisting at my sides as I fight the urge to cover myself.

I feel exposed, laid bare in every sense of the word, but the heat in Connor’s gaze keeps me rooted to the spot.

“Good boy,” he says, the words rolling off his tongue like a fucking weapon. The words send a jolt straight through me, my cock twitching embarrassingly at the sound, and Connor’s grin sharpens like he fucking knows.

His hands reach out, gripping my hips lightly as he pulls me closer until I’m standing between his legs. My breath catches when he leans forward, pressing his lips to the skin just above my navel. It’s not rough like I expected—it’s soft, lingering, as if he’s taking his time. His hands slide over my hips, up my sides, trailing heat in their wake as he explores me like he owns every inch.

“Connor—”

“Hush, Babyface,” he murmurs, pressing another kiss to my stomach, then moving up to my chest. “Let me appreciate you.”

His lips brush over my skin, his hands tracing the curve of my waist, my ribs, before settling on my hips again. His thumbs rub slow circles against my skin, and I shiver, heat pooling low in my stomach as my cock hardens to the point of pain.

“Stop it,” I snap, though there’s no heat behind it, my cheeks burning under the weight of his words.

Connor chuckles, the sound low and amused as his hands slide back down to grip my hips, pulling me closer. “You’re such a little brat,” he says. “It makes me want to break you. To make you beg for me, Malachi.”

I swallow hard, my breath hitching at the raw hunger in his voice.

“But then,” he continues, his voice dropping to a near whisper as he takes my chin between his thumb and forefinger, “It makes me want to take care of you. Fuck, you drive me crazy, but I want to protect you. Worship you. Make sure you never feel like you have to hide again.”

I shake my head, my cheeks burning as his words replay in my mind. I hate how much I crave them, how much I want to hear him say more. It’s like he’s peeled back every layer of me, exposing the parts I’ve tried so hard to bury.

“Connor,” I whisper, my voice barely audible.

“Look at you, gorgeous boy,” he says almost reverently, pulling back slightly to meet my gaze. “So fuckin’ perfect for me, and you don’t even realize it, do you?”

For once in my life, I’m speechless. How could he possibly think I’m gorgeous?

“Are you going to answer me?” Connor asks, his tone sharper now, and my breath catches.

“Yes, sir,” I blurt out without thinking, the words slipping out like a reflex, and the second they do, I freeze.

Connor’s hands tighten on my hips, and I feel the tension in his body, the way he’s holding himself back. His head dips, his forehead pressing against my stomach as he mutters something low in Gaelic, the words rough and strained.

I blink down at him, confused and flustered as his fingers dig into my skin, his breathing uneven. “Connor—”

“Fuckin’ hell,” he growls, cutting me off as he lifts his head, his green eyes blazing. “Do you have any idea what you’ve just done to me?”

I shake my head, my chest tight, but Connor doesn’t wait for an answer.

“Say it again,” he demands, his hands pulling me closer until I’m practically straddling his lap.

I hesitate, my pride warring with the overwhelming heat pooling low in my stomach, but the look in his eyes makes it impossible to resist. “Yes, sir,” I whisper, my voice barely audible.

Connor groans low in his throat, his hands sliding up to grip my waist as he pulls me closer, his head tilting back to look up at me.

“You’re going to be the fuckin’ death of me,” he mutters, his lips curling into a wicked grin. “But fuck, you’ll make it worth it.”

Chapter 32

Connor

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