Page 48 of Conall's Reign

I felt a flicker of relief but didn’t let it show. “I’m glad you liked it.”

He crossed the room and stopped in front of me. For a moment, he said nothing, merely looking down at me with that same inscrutable expression. Then, he reached out and brushed a strand of hair from my face. The gesture was almost tender, yet it carried weight, as if he were trying to unravel something hidden beneath the surface.

“You seemed distracted earlier,” he finally said. “Is something on your mind?”

My heart skipped a beat, but I plastered on a neutral expression, trying to hide any nerves. The last thing I needed was for him to allude to the conversation he had overheard earlier. “Just nervous, I suppose. It was my first time cooking for you, after all. I wanted you to like it.”

He studied me for another moment, then nodded. “I understand. But you have nothing to be nervous about. You’re my wife now, Francesca. We’re in this together.” He paused, and that inscrutable look returned to his face as he continued to study me. “If there’s anything you need to tell me, you know you can, right?”

Didn’t he buy my little “nervous about making dinner” act? Still, his words carried a reassuring quality. They also served as a reminder—a subtle warning that I was no longer just Francesca. I was Conall O’Kelly’s wife, bound to him and his world in ways I couldn’t fully escape.

As he knelt beside the chair and drew me to the edge, he said, “You know that, don’t you,principessa?”

?

“Yes,”I managed. My breath caught as he pushed my knees apart, his eyes fixed on mine while those strong fingers cradled my knees.

“Wider. Keep your legs open for me, wife. You are not to move unless I tell you to.”

Heat pooled in my core as I followed his commands, barely daring to breathe while he bent to lay a kiss against one thigh, moving the silk robe aside, his teeth nipping my skin as he traveled further north. For some reason, his commands ignited an explosion of desire within me, driving my want through the roof. It should have made me angry — being restricted, but instead, it felt like he was elevating me to new heights.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day. You’ve been driving me crazy.” The words hummed against me. He had been thinking of me? “Does that surprise you,principessa?” His thumbs circled the joints of my legs, pressing more butterfly kisses, blowing lightly over the apex of my thighs, his breath cool against the heat of my clit. “Look how beautiful you are.”

I did as he asked and looked down at myself, exposed to him and the air of the bedroom. I’d never felt sexier with him on his knees before me. My muscles stretched as he pushed my thighs even wider, wedging his shoulders forward, both palms against my skin, kneading it gently. I was burning up as he looked up at me, convinced I would burst into flame under his gaze.

“You’re better than any dessert that I could think of. Do you realize that?”

He slid the tip of his thumb against the folds of my pussy as he watched me, rubbing softly against my entrance as I struggled to hold still as he’d commanded. The digit slid inside, avoiding my clit altogether, stroking gently and shallowly.

“This pussy is dripping for me. All this cream. You smell like flowers.” He raised his thumb to his lips, sucking it, his eyes falling closed before meeting mine. “You taste like dessert. Remember. No moving.”

“I remember… husband.” His eyes lit up with approval.

His thumb slid back inside, rubbing the flesh of my entrance, and continued its slow, shallow, and maddening thrusts. I ached to thrust my hips or beg. I was alight with need; everything was taut, and I pulled towards that need to come. He bent his head and latched onto my clit, sucking hard against it as he slid two fingers into my pussy and stroked. Stars exploded behind my eyes so fast it was almost laughable. My pelvis thrust against his mouth as I came and sobbed from the force of the orgasm.

Holy shit. Collapsing back against the chair for a moment, I stared at Conall through my lashes as he pulled his shirt from his pants and dropped a condom on the carpet. He was an impressive-looking man, cut from marble like one of those Greek statues, minus a few scars. I frowned at the most recent one. Damn Vallones.

“Roll over baby. Hands and knees.”

He didn’t wait for me to respond but flipped me over so I could grasp the chair, my knees on the carpet, and knelt behind me. My body was on fire as he traced down my spine.

“Arch that back and push out that ass for me.”

I turned and obeyed, watching over one shoulder as Conall gripped his thick cock, stroking himself idly. He fit himself into my slit, groaning as he eased into me. Dropping my head onto the cushion, I gave over to the sensation of his cock stretching my channel, the delicious feeling of being filled as he stroked in and out until he was completely seated. In this position, I felt him so deep it was almost like he was touching my womb.

“You’re so tight, Francesca,” he groaned as he sped up, his hands digging into my hip bones as he fucked me hard. “Play with your clit. I want to feel you come on my cock. Squeeze it,principessa.”

I was so wet now that it sounded almost obscene, and I felt the next orgasm speeding towards me like a freight train as I flicked my clit.

“That’s it, baby. Come on.”

I elongated, my muscles liquid as time stretched to just Conall and me, the drive of our muscles, my fingers against that small bud, and his cock hitting inside me until I exploded. Conall grunted over me with relief as he came, pressing soothing kisses against my spine before leaving me to collapse over the chair until he returned to carry me to the bed.

I hung limply in his arms, my mind blissfully blank. Who knew that sex could be so good?

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

conall

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