Page 30 of Conall's Reign

“Conall,” she breathed, her voice catching on my name.

“Who am I?” I murmured, my hand sliding to her hip, holding her securely in place.

Her nails dug into my chest, and for a moment, I thought she might shove me off, but instead, she arched her pelvis against me subtly, her breath hitching as she sought friction against my cock. “You’re infuriating.”

“Still not the word I’m looking for,” I teased, pressing my lips to the hollow of her throat, licking the skin there.

“Conall,” she said again, this time with more of a warning, but it didn’t have the effect she had probably hoped for.

I lifted my head to meet her gaze, and for a moment, the tension between us hung heavily in the air. “Say it,” I challenged, my voice low. I pressed against her, inhaling that light floral scent that was uniquely hers. “Who am I?”

Her eyes burned with an indescribable emotion—anger, desire, perhaps both. “Husband,” she finally whispered. Even as she uttered it reluctantly, her hands glided to the back of my neck, drawing me closer.

I captured her lips again, silencing whatever argument she was about to make.Her body softened beneath me, her resistance fading as the heat between us ignited. And as her fingers tangled in my hair, I couldn’t help but think that whatever this moment had cost me and however long I’d waited, it was worth it.

Francesca belonged to me. I had arranged my world so that she fit into it, ensuring she had a place within my ordered chaos. I would not allow her to disrupt it. No, I would make her fit perfectly, just as I had planned.

“That’s right. You belong to me.My wife.”

My senses felt overloaded as I tightened my grip on her, pinning her flat with an arm across her abdomen while I slid down between her legs, tugging the sheet free so she was exposed to the lights of the city.

?

The negligee wascreamy silk against the honey tones of her skin, sliding effortlessly with the palm of my hand. I wasn’t a shopper, so I couldn’t claim to have chosen the clothes myself, but I had asked for the best, and the stylist had delivered. My peculiarities about clothing were based mostly on having to do with cleanliness when we were younger, but I had a thing for textures, and this made my cock even harder. The feel of the silk against the creamy expanse of her belly made my balls tighten. I rubbed it back and forth against her belly just to test myself.

“You’ll keep still,” I ordered. “And quiet.” Part of me wanted her to disobey so that I could punish her, but she kept her mouth still as she watched me with curiosity, but most of all, desire.

I might have hidden from others that I’d harbored a secret obsession for Francesca Santelli, but I’d never hidden it from myself. I’d always known that Francesca and I would be a good fit—a perfect fit.

Nuzzling my face into her skin, I indulged in the moment, ignoring her needy little mewls as I rubbed my face against the crook of her neck and up against her cheek.

“You’ll come only when I say.” My eyes stayed hot on hers as I moved a hand between her thighs, nearly blowing my load as I ran a thumb over the tiny silk patch that covered her center. It wasn’t damp, it was drenched. Soaked through. “Oh, baby girl,” I groaned. “You need this, don’t you?”

She bit her lip, and her chin attempted to firm with determination, but I could see she was already struggling with the need that I was sure burned through her, just as I knew it burned through me.

“Let’s get this first one out of the way then.”

Pulling her panties down, I pushed the rest of her silk nighty high up under her breasts, not trusting myself to uncover her completely, pleased as I spread her legs that she was swollen and pink. She glistened in the minimal light, glowed even. Firming that arm over her belly, I licked her ass to clit in firm strokes with the flat of my tongue before spearing into the center of her until my lips met her folds. I spread her with my fingers and started tongue-fucking her, stroking hard into her over and over. Already, the wicked little thing struggled against my arm, trying to grind against my face, but I kept up the rhythm I’d set against her spongy g-spot, flicking her clit with my fingers as I drove through her slick folds as she sobbed. When I felt the quivers began, I pinched her clit hard and relentlessly before pulling my mouth away.

“Baby, come for me.”

Heaving forward onto my hand, she worked her hips as I leaned forward to bite one nipple, clamping onto it savagely as she came, coating my fingers with her juices.

“Oh, God.” She flung her head back against the pillows, her hands out like a snow angel as her pussy clenched and spasmed.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

francesca

I felt boneless and weightless,drifting — trying to convince myself that I knew what I was doing being in this bed. I was lying, of course. Never before had a man given me an orgasm. I’d always gotten off by myself with my trusty vibrator. I’d had sex before, but it had been a letdown of epic proportions. I’d never been able to getthere.

Suddenly, Conall O’Kelly, master of everything and alpha-hole extraordinaire, pulled an orgasm from me like he knew my body better than I did. He delivered directions like he had the right to.

Stay still.

Keep quiet.

Basically, like he was in charge.

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