Page 64 of Tall, Royal Hater
Stubbornness dulled the fire in her expression, but she lifted her chin. “Your point? It’s not as if you could’ve planned the wedding yourself anyway.”
“My point is,” I snarled, pressing my forearm heavily across her shoulders. “You made it out to my face that you wouldn’t help me until I’d apologised, yet that wasn’t the issue, was it? You only wanted to put me in a difficult position while you went behind my back and planned the wedding yourself and painted me as the bad guy. You were going to show me up in front of everyone just to satisfy your fucking hurt pride. Because revenge was more important to you than the wedding.”
She lurched against my arm. “Don’t you fucking dare try to turn this on me! I did my best to set aside how much I hate you to help you plan your mother’s wedding, but you’re the one who didn’t want to cooperate. You attacked me, Shehryar—for no reason. So, yeah, I wanted you to pay for it. I wanted you to apologise on your fucking knees, and I wanted you to struggle without my help. But I was never going to let you ruin your mother’s wedding.”
She lifted her mouth in a slow smirk, and it sent a dozen jabs of wrath through my middle. “But I sure as fuck wasn’t gonna let the opportunity for revenge go either. Plus, I got you out of my way, didn’t I, and it was perfect. Half the wedding is already planned or in the process of confirmation, and the cherry on top is that they all know you were horrible to me too.” She shrugged one shoulder lazily. “It was a win-win situation, really, whether you apologised or not.”
Fury crept over me like a tsunami, scorching my face and neck with splatters of burning water and blurring the edges of my vision. I could only focus on the cause and soon-to-be recipient of my messy emotions.
“It's not nice to be made to feel like an idiot, is it?” Mariyah said in my silence, angling her chin audaciously.
My fingers reflexively dug into the back of her head as the last steel beam of my control bent and cracked under the testing pressure she exerted on it. Her ocean-blue eyes ignited withreciprocating ire, but she didn’t struggle in my tightening hold. Nor when I bent a little closer.
“You conniving. Little. Bitch,” I growled.
Dark amusement danced in the flickering blaze of her stare as she spread one side of her mouth wider. “Is that supposed to be an insult?” she said, her voice a husky purr that latched onto the vertical thread laced in my core and tugged at it.
Her long, mascaraed lashes lowered as she tipped her chin higher. Pressing back and putting weight on my palm, she curved her spine and pushed herself closer against me.
There wasn’t room for air to pass between us. And I’d felt it before underneath my frustration, but I supposed I hadn’t properly acknowledge it until then.
The silk hid nothing of her.Even through the layers of my suit.
She might as well have been naked, that’s how clearly I could feel how soft and warm she was. And her peachy scent made it all the worse.
She was biteable. Squeezable. Perfectly pliant. I could feel the piercing in her bellybutton, and from the way her breasts flattened, I knew she wasn’t wearing a bra, but something covered her nipples.
I clenched my teeth hard over the throbbing ache that roared through my dick, but no amount of bracing could’ve prepared me for the bat she swung next.
Parting her smirking lips, she whispered, “Say it again, Daddy. I liked it.”
The ring of blood in my ears dissolved into nothing as my heart stopped for what felt like a whole minute. During that time, I wasn’t convinced I’d heard her properly, but the moment my heart restarted with a hard buck, shooting a burning sensation through my muscles, it settled in.
It settled down. So low, so quickly, pooling molten liquid in my groin.
She called me Daddy. She fucking called me Daddy.
Yes, I’d been called so before, but not outside of sex, nor had it ever spiked my blood with such an intense sense of perverse pleasure that I wanted to yank at her hair and demand she say it again.
I felt it through the apex of her thigh where it curved into her lower belly—the way my cock stirred and pushed into her, wanting freedom from behind my boxers and fly.
I saw the exact moment she felt it too. The way her lashes fluttered up over ballooning pupils. The slight part of her pink, supple lips. And the subtle contract of her stomach as she sucked in a breath.
“Is that what you need me to be?” I heard myself rasp eventually. “Your Daddy?” Her dilated eyes stilled. “Is that why you act like such a brat all the time?”
Defiant fire flashed across her cheeks, and I abruptly found myself stumbling back from her. Strands of blonde hair whipped across her neck where my hand was pulled from behind, but she quickly flicked it away with a snap of her head. She stood tall and fierce but flushed from the wall.
“You really are delusional, aren’t you?” she snarked, but her eyes dipped down to my half-erect dick twice like she couldn’t control the movement.
My mouth pulled up in one corner as I adjusted the crotch of my trousers. Maybe purposely. Maybe not. But it caught her attention again for a longer second, and my mouth spread wider. Sparks splattered out from her irises, but I knew it wasn’t directed solely at me.
Mariyah was affected. Felt hot and bothered because of me. And she hated it.
It felt brilliant for me, though.
“Delusional?” I asked, arching my brows. “How so? Isn’t that what you called me?”
She opened her mouth, faltered, and snapped her teeth together. I let out a low chuckle as I moved lazily closer to her. Her reaction was like something out of a cartoon; I could practically see the rise of red lava through her before it exploded out the top of her head.
