Page 65 of Tall, Royal Hater
Squaring up to me, she jabbed a finger into my sternum. “How about how many times you’ve called me a brat, huh?”
I edged closer despite the sharp press of her nail. “What about it? Youarea brat.” She leaned back as I braced one hand against the wall by her head. “You’re a fucking menace, Mariyah.” And then the other, caging her in.
She smirked. “And yet here you are with your peanut dick hard because of me.”
The throbbing grew more insistent as my gaze trailed over the flushed plains of her face, lingering on her lips before jerking back up. I swore her eyes were more dilated than before. “Does that actually work?” I asked, my timbre low and husky. “Telling yourself my dick is a peanut to stop yourself from thinking about it?”
“You’re deflecting, Sheri,” she said, lightly tutting me.
Fuck, I hated that nickname. But even in that moment, that hate felt ridiculously good.
“So are you, Mariyah.” I tilted my head, glancing to her lips again. “Admit you think about my dick.”
She lifted her chin rebelliously. Or expectantly. “Admit you think aboutme.”
“About wringing your neck, yes, I do.” I’d dropped my head so close I could feel her sweet-smelling breath against my skin. My tongue snuck out, swiping across my bottom lip, trying to taste it.Her.
Her lashes dropped, and I felt the weight of her heated stare on my mouth. “At least we have that in common,” she said.
“Really?” I purred. “Because the way you’re looking at my mouth doesn’t suggest so.”
She snapped her stare up, arching her brows. “Just trying to figure out if I could shove a brick down your throat to choke you because your peanut phallus is clearly too small for the job.”
Never had the wordphallussounded so aggravating and sexy at the same time before.
A growled chuckle slipped between my teeth. “Fucking brat.”
She smiled viciously, but her voice was breathy. “And you’re a dickhead.”
The dark knot of desire, dominance, and anger pulled tight inside me in the silence that followed. It was conflicting, because I wanted to keep watching her as she struggled to fight her desire and hold on to her anger. But at the same time, I wanted to shove her down to her knees, wrap her hair around my fist, and ask if she still thought my dick was a peanut as she gagged on it.
“Mariyah—oh, woah. Okay.”
We both jumped upon hearing the new voice, and our heads snapped around.
Pierre stood in the opening of the corridor, his brows high in surprise, his ruby-red eyes dancing with amusement, and a smug smirk on his lips. “This doesn’t look like you need rescuing,” he said, laughter lacing his deep voice. “Did Prince Fay have it wrong?”
Mariyah braced both hands on my chest and shoved me back. I stumbled but caught myself easily as I dropped my arms to my sides. “He didn’t need to send you,” she said, strutting towards Pierre without a second glance back, but the croak in her voice hadn’t disappeared.
Pierre glanced sceptically at me, his gaze running down my body. His eyes stopped at the top of my legs and popped wide before flying up in gleeful question.
Realisation and embarrassment swarmed my cheeks as I awkwardly pulled one side of my suit jacket in front of my semi-hard-on.
He threw his head back and a loud laugh burst from him. “You sure you wanna leave?” he asked Mariyah, struggling with his laughter, as she wrapped her hands around his arm and tugged him around.
“Let’s go,” she said firmly.
He stumbled with her pull, leaning into her as he said, “Did I disturb—”
“Nothing,” I heard her spit, quietly but firmly. “You disturbed nothing.”
My teeth rubbed across each other as I scowled at the back of their forms disappearing around the corner. She must’ve said something else because Pierre’s laughter echoed again.
Standing there alone in the buzzing silence, I couldn’t figure out if I was more pissed with her bratty attitude, that I didn’t get to snuff it with my tongue.
Or that she chose to leave with Pierre and run from me.
Who was the fucking coward now?
