Page 60 of Royal Bargain
“You’ve been so good to me, Mr. Brannagan. You deserve your reward. Lie back. I’m going to ride you until I know you’ve learned your lesson, then you get to come for me,” she says, pushing my chest with one finger.
Slowly, I sink backward, my back hitting the mattress as Ana sits up, her glasses still perched on the tip of her nose.
“Keep your hands at your sides. You don’t touch unless I say so,” she instructs. She straddles me slowly, sinking down inch by inch, her breath catching as she takes me in fully—deliberate, unhurried, in total control.
Her hands splay across my chest, holding me down as she rocks her hips with a sensuous rhythm.
“Stay still. I’m going to use you now, Mr. Brannagan.” She leans over me, glasses slipping down her nose, hair falling over her shoulder as she whispers filthy praises in my ear. “You feel that? That’s what good boys get.”
My knuckles go white against the sheets, jaw clenched tight as I struggle not to move—not to disobey.
“So hard for me. So eager. I love how desperate you are.” She tilts her hips just right, making me shudder, and she smirks as though she’s just been given Teacher of the Year.
Her voice is becoming breathless, the warm air blowing against my ear as she continues my ‘education’. “You’re doing so well. Just take it. Take all of me.”
Every moan is low, measured, controlled, even as her body takes what it wants from me.
Her moans were low and measured, controlled—even as her body took what it wanted from his.
“You’re throbbing, Mr. Brannagan,” she whispers, and my entire body shudders, unable to stop myself. “I know you're close. You’re going to wait.”
I moan, a war waging inside me between the desire to grab her hips and slam her pussy into my cock and the need to be good for her, to obey her every command.
As though seeing the struggle in my eyes, her gaze turns sharp. “Come for me only when I say so. And not a second before,” she orders.
I nod, head thrown back as she continues to ride me, moving at a devastating tempo.
She shudders, her release hitting her in waves, pleasure rippling through her so hard she squeezes my biceps hard enough to leave marks.
When she starts to speak again, finding her voice after being run ragged, it lights a fire in my belly. “Oh, God, yes. That’s it, Liam! Now. Let go. Come for me. Show me how good I make you feel!”
My hands fly out and I grip her hips, thrusting into her wet pussy with a fervent abandon. “That’s it, baby. Just like that,” she calls out encouragingly.
I look up at her as though she’s hung the moon, and for a moment, she lets the persona crack—just enough to press a kiss to my temple and whisper, “Good boy.”
It sends me over the edge, and I shiver, releasing a hot load straight into her waiting cunt and she gives me a coquettish smile, tweaking my nipples with her fingertips, earning another pulsing load inside her.
She brushes my hair back as I tremble beneath her, still seated inside her, undone and dazed. “There now, lesson learned.”
I reach up and pull her down for a kiss, needing that closeness, that physical contact. We break apart and she lays down next to me.
As we come down from our high, nestled together in the bed, she pulls me close, her voice softening, threading affectionthrough her words. “You’re mine,” she intones. “And I take very good care of what’s mine.”
I brush my fingers through her hair, settling down to relax for a while. I’m content, just being here beside her as we weather the tumultuous storms we’ve been navigating lately. Her body’s still draped across mine, warm and drowsy, her breathing soft and steady. The world outside this bed feels far away, and for a moment, I let myself believe we’re safe.
But peace never lasts long around here.
My eyes drift to the ceiling, and my thoughts, traitorous as ever, drift back to the shooting. To Burns. To how fast everything moved after the gun went off.
I still can’t shake it.
The shooter was found and killed less than an hour after the incident. An hour. And yet I never saw any real police presence at the scene—no sirens, no flashing lights, not until long after Burns had already been whisked away.
Ana wondered aloud if it was staged. I’d brushed it off at the time, mostly because I didn’t want to believe it. But now?
Now it just won’t let me go.
21
