Page 48 of Rebellious Reign

I do.

I watch as he unbuttons his pants, pulling them down slightly until he pops free. He’s so hard that the tip of his cock is darker than the shaft and straining toward me. I wrap one hand around it and stare up at him. His eyes are hooded and dark as he watches me. I stroke slowly up and down.

“Touch yourself,” he practically growls at me.

I take my hand from his cock and stick it between my legs. After running fingers through my wetness, I spread it along his dick, sliding my hand back and forth. His chest rumbles with appreciation.

He lets out a moan as soon as my lips touch the head of him, lightly sucking, teasing, playing with him. His hand lands on my head, fingers clenching my hair as he holds himself steady. He’s so fucking hard.

I lightly drag my teeth his hard cock and smile as he tenses up. It’s always good to remind them who is really in charge. I take him to the back of my throat, clenching my fingers around my thumb with my other fist so I don’t puke. The trick works surprisingly well.

I work him in and out, relishing in the noises he’s making, knowing that I’m making him come unglued. It might be a punishment in his mind, but I’m finding it highly erotic. My nipples are so hard, and I’m soaked again. So, as my right hand moves in tandem with my mouth, I let my left hand sneak between my legs again and rub myself into a frenzy.

“You feel fucking amazing,” he whispers into the air.

I don’t know if he even meant to talk to me. I glance up, and his eyes are closed, his head thrown back in ecstasy.

“I’m going to come down your throat.”

I hum, letting him know that I’m all in, as I lightly drag my finger around my clit. I’m so close to my second orgasm. The waves of pleasure start at the same time he jerks forward, his cum hitting the back of my throat. I continue to work his shaft and wring my own orgasm from my sensitive clit.

Fucking amazing multitasker right now.

He finally stops shuddering as I pull my lips from him with a pop, and then I lick them as I smile up at him.

“Am I sufficiently punished?” I ask, grinning.

He stares down at me, pulling his fingers from where they were knotted in my hair.

“Looks like I didn’t fuck that smart mouth hard enough,” he says, stuffing himself back in his pants, buttoning them up.

I climb to my feet, dragging my fingers up his torso as I lean in, planting a kiss on his lips. He doesn’t hesitate, pushing his tongue inside as he devours me.

Then, once I’m gasping for air, he pulls back to stare down at me. There’s forgiveness in his eyes, but also guilt. And I’m not sure why.

16

WRYN

Ifind my dress hanging on the armoire in my room. I still haven’t moved completely into Connor’s room, and I’m not sure which one of us is holding back. We don’t discuss it. It’s like an elephant in the room that we quietly tiptoe around, hoping we don’t disturb the carefully crafted peace we’ve discovered together. Though I wouldn’t say we are at peace either. This life demands chaos.

“It’s gorgeous,” I say on a breathy whisper, though there’s no one around to hear me.

I finger the deep red material. It’s soft on my skin and luxurious. It had to have cost a fortune. Money being no object now is such a strange idea to me. It’s like I’m living in a fantasy world. But where that money comes from isn’t the stuff of fantasies, and it instantly makes my stomach churn.

I drop the material and study the dress.

Did Connor pick it out himself?

Its spaghetti straps hold it to the velvet hanger, and I envision sliding it on my body. The satin will hug my curves, and the slight dip in the neckline will show the perfect amount of cleavage. The slit in the skirt will have my leg playing peekaboo with anyone who looks at me.

It’s something a queen would wear.

Why do I feel like the scullery maid, playing dress-up?

I look away from it and head to the bathroom to shower. I’ll look my best tonight. After all, my husband is being honored at the charity gala. He hasn’t said anything about it, but I know he’s donated a large sum of money to them and they want to appreciate him.

Would they still appreciate it if they knew that money likely came from years of trafficking innocent victims? One of them being my best friend, my sister, my Ruby?

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