Page 46 of Royal Deception
Finally, with a shout, she releases again, her walls squeezing my cock so hard that I find myself falling over the edge as well this time.
As Clary is cleaning up to get ready to leave, I sit against the pillows, watching her silently. Something happened tonight, something I wasn’t prepared for. I don’t know if I’m making a mistake by allowing her so close to me, but I have to be careful.
Because if I’m not—if I don’t maintain stricter boundaries between us—I know I’m in danger of falling for Clary completely and thoroughly. But I can’t have that. I need to remain in control, to keep her at a safe distance.
Maybe part of the problem is this tenuous agreement between us. If I made it into something more permanent, I might be able to keep those boundaries intact. I could have my cake and eat it too—enjoy Clary’s company while not letting her get too close.
I stand up to head into the bathroom and clean up, satisfaction growing as I think about the benefits of such an arrangement. After all, with strict boundaries, what can go wrong?
20
CLARY
The bell above the door jingles as I step into the café, the familiar scents of roasted coffee beans and fresh pastries greeting me. Normally, the rich aroma would be comforting, but today, a burnt undertone lingers in the air, making my stomach churn unpleasantly. I swallow hard, willing the nausea away as I scan the room for Ana.
She’s already at our usual table by the window, stirring sugar into her drink with a lazy motion. Her lips curve into a smile when she spots me, and she nudges the extra chair out with her foot. “Took you long enough,” she teases. “I was about to send out a search party.”
I roll my eyes, plopping down across from her. “You know, for someone so tiny, you’re awfully dramatic.”
Ana just grins, holding up her cup. “Want me to grab you one?”
I start to nod but hesitate, the thought of warm coffee suddenly turning my stomach. “I’m good,” I say quickly, shaking my head. “Actually, the smell of that burned pastry up front is making me a little nauseous.” I wrinkle my nose, trying to ignore the way my stomach flips again.
Ana’s stirring slows ever so slightly. A knowing glint flickers in her hazel eyes as she takes a casual sip of her drink. “Huh,” she muses, almost to herself. “You know, my sister Sophie was weird about smells when she was pregnant.”
My spine goes rigid. My fingers curl around the edge of the table, my breath catching in my throat.
Ana sets her cup down carefully, watching me with a quiet sort of patience. “Clary,” she says gently, “is there something you want to tell me?”
I swallow hard, my pulse hammering against my ribs. There’s no judgment in her tone, just an open invitation, a safe space. But still, the words feel stuck in my throat, tangled in the fear and uncertainty I haven’t let myself fully process.
She reaches across the table, resting her hand over mine. “You can tell me,” she urges softly. “Whatever it is, I’ve got you.”
I inhale shakily, my resolve crumbling under the weight of her understanding.
And just like that, I nod.
A shaky breath slips past my lips as I lower my gaze, blinking rapidly to fight back the sting of tears. But it’s useless. The emotions I’ve been trying to keep locked away crash over me all at once, and before I can stop myself, a tear spills down my cheek.
Ana squeezes my hand, her expression softening. “Oh, Clary…”
I shake my head quickly, swiping at my face. “I don’t even know why I’m crying,” I mumble, my voice thick. “It’s not like I didn’t know. I just… saying it out loud makes it feel… real.”
Ana doesn’t rush me, just waits patiently as I gather myself. After a long pause, she finally asks, “Does the father know?”
My throat tightens. I exhale slowly, weighing my words. “No,” I admit.
Ana studies me for a moment, then tilts her head slightly. “Is he… the same person you’ve been seeing?”
I hesitate, the answer sitting heavily on my tongue. I don’t confirm or deny it, and Ana seems to pick up on that because she doesn’t press. Instead, she leans back slightly, her fingers tracing the rim of her cup.
“So, what are you going to do?” she asks gently.
I let out a slow, unsteady breath. “I don’t know,” I admit. “I don’t even know how to bring it up. I don’t know how he’ll react.”
Ana hums in understanding, her gaze flickering toward the window. “Then maybe you wait,” she suggests. “At least until you’re sure he can handle it.”
I glance at her, my brow furrowing slightly.
