Rule Me Dirty: A Royal Bad Boy Romance

by Parker Grey

  Sloane feels so good I don’t think I can last very long. Not when she’s making those noises, her tight pussy gripping me like this, practically begging me to come inside her tight young body. Hell, I’m about to lose control completely, something that never happens.

  “Mr. Declan,” she whispers. “I’m gonna come.”

  I fuck her harder and lean over to whisper into her ear.

  “Not yet,” I say, then bite her ear. She gasps, and I can feel her pussy muscles flutter and clench around me.

  “Please,” she murmurs.

  “Not yet,” I say, slamming into her as hard as I can.

  She whimpers. I’m nearly there, because I can’t watch her like this and feel her cunt grip at my cock and not come too fast.

  “You like getting bent over a desk and fucked hard by your boss?” I ask. I don’t expect her to answer. “You like letting your boss get balls-deep inside your tight, sweet little cunt?”

  “Yes,” she whispers.

  “You like it when your boss makes you come hard with his big cock?” I whisper.

  I’m starting to lose control, and hers is almost gone, her muscles spasming and tightening around me.

  Sloane just nods.

  “Come for me, Sloane,” I say, and the words aren’t out of my mouth before her muscles clamp down around me, so tight it feels like she’s squeezing me with a fist.

  Sloane moans, and I clamp a hand over her mouth as she comes and comes, her whole body shaking and spasming. I keep fucking her as hard as I can because I don’t think I could stop if an atom bomb went off.

  At the last second I pull out and shoot my sticky white load on the back of her thighs as Sloane slumps on the desk, her face flushed, gasping for air. We stay there for a moment, my quickly-softening cock in my hand, jizz dripping down the backs of her thighs, Sloane nearly delirious and breathless on the desk, my hand on her hip.

  Then I tuck myself back into my pants, the zipper wet with her juices. I find a box of tissues and wipe Sloane off as she stands, pushing both hands through her hair, because even if I just fucked her as hard and rough as I’ve ever fucked anyone, I’m a gentleman sometimes.

  She pulls her skirt down and turns, wobbling a little on her heels, and looks up at me through her eyelashes. Then she looks down, that demure thing that drives me wild.

  “We shouldn’t have done that,” she whispers.

  “I don’t care,” I whisper back.

  She smiles. Looks down. Bites her lip.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow morning?” she asks.

  “Of course,” I say. “You’ve still got a job to do, after all.”

  She blushes, runs her hands through her hair, and then leaves Jerry’s office.

  I take a deep breath.

  That was stupid, dangerous, and stupidly dangerous, but when it comes to Sloane I don’t fucking care about any of that.

  I just want her and don’t give a shit about anything else, because she’s quickly becoming my world.

  The week goes by. Tuesday, she sucks my cock while I’m on a phone call, and I get to watch my dick disappear down her throat as I talk numbers with a client in Tokyo. Later that day I find her in the employee kitchen and I bend her over the counter and finger-fuck her until she comes hard, clamping around my hand.

  Wednesday, I eat her out in my car in the parking garage, then fuck her. Thursday, I use the remote vibrator to make her come again and again while I’m in a meeting, watching her through a glass window.

  Friday, I decide I can’t take it anymore. I keep things professional for as long as I can, until she comes into my office at three and drops a stack of papers on my desk, then closes the door behind her and leans against it, running her hands down her body.

  I hold up one hand.

  “Not now,” I say, and she stops, suddenly looking uncertain. “What are you doing tonight?”

  Sloane blinks.

  “Nothing,” she says, folding her hands in front of herself.

  I smile.

  “Good,” I say. “When you get off work, there’s a Town car with your name on it. I want you to go where it takes you.”

  She raises her eyebrows. I stand, resting my hands lightly on the desk.

  “And when I get there, I want to find you naked and wet for me,” I go on, my voice low.

  Sloane's eyes spark, and I can practically hear her get wet.

  “Is that understood?” I ask.

  “Yes, Mr. Declan,” she says, and smiles.

  I nod once, and she leaves.

  Now to count down the hours.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Sloane

  I don’t get anything done for the rest of the day. Nothing important, anyway, and I’m soaking wet by the time I get into the Town car. I’ve stopped wearing panties to work, so I’m sure that there’s a wet spot on the back of my skirt, but I don’t care.

  All I care about is tonight, and finally fucking Mr. Declan somewhere that’s not our office. Part of me wonders if that makes this sordid, fucked-up affair real. If we fuck outside the office, is he my boyfriend or something?

  Is ‘boyfriend’ even the right word for someone who’s fifteen years older than you, and also your boss?

  We pull up outside a big, swanky hotel. The Ritz or something, and I get out. There’s a room key in the car, and I go to the twentieth floor and open the door.

  There’s no one there, but there’s a fire in the fireplace, a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket, and a silk robe on a huge bed with a wrought-iron headboard.

  I undress, then put the silk robe on. I pour myself some champagne and wander the beautiful, expensive hotel room, remembering his instructions: naked and wet.

  Well, check and check.

  After a bit, the door unlocks again, and my heart leaps into my throat as Mr. Declan steps through, the door closing behind him. I’m suddenly terrified that, somehow, this isn’t what he wanted. That he wanted me dressed, that I’m acting too brazen, too slutty.

  He strides in and then stands there, looking at me before walking over. I gulp my champagne, suddenly needing the courage, and then he’s towering over me, looking down, pure heat in his gaze.

  Then he takes my chin in his hand, tilts my face up, and kisses me.

  I realize we’ve never kissed before, and he takes charge even of this, pushing my mouth open with his, his tongue winding and curling against mine like he’s plundering me.

  Like he’s taking what’s his.

  When he steps back he takes the glass from my hand, sets it on a table, and pulls at the sash of my robe.

  “I said naked,” he tells me, his voice a low, needy rasp. The robe falls to the floor with a soft swish, and then I’m naked in front of him for the first time and he’s looking me up and down. He’s already hard, his massive erection obvious through his pants.

  Mr. Declan smiles. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a long black ribbon.

  “Turn around,” he says, and I do. The ribbon floats in front of my eyes, then binds them shut.

  “Will you trust me?” he murmurs. He ties the ribbon behind my head, everything utterly dark, my heart hammering.

  I want to say I already have, but instead I just say, “Yes.”

  He takes my hand in his and pulls me forward carefully.

  “Two more steps,” he says. “Stop with your hands on the marble table.”

  I do it, stumbling a little, not used to being blind. The tabletop is cool under my fingers as I strain to hear what’s happening, but there’s nothing.

  “Bend over it,” he says.

  I lean slowly, still blind, until my entire torso is in contact with the cold stone, chilly against my hot flesh. Mr. Declan’s hand presses my head down until one cheek is against the cool table, and even though I don’t know what’s happening, I’m beyond wet and ready.

  Please fuck me on this table, I think, and arch my back just a little, sticking my ass out.

  Suddenly, there’s a sharp blow on
one ass cheek, and I yelp. I wasn’t expecting that, not at all — I was expecting fingers in my cunt and hoping for cock, not a spanking.

  Mr. Declan chuckles just a little. I don’t stand or move from the table, and for a moment, I think about it.

  His handprint is still buzzing, like the nerve endings are crackling to the surface, pure, sweet sensation. I shift my weight and stick my ass out further, and a few seconds later, there’s another sharp blow on the other ass cheek.

  This time I don’t yelp. I make a noise, but it’s not one of pain, not exactly. I’m bent over a table, being spanked by my boss, and I think I like it. He spanks me again and again, and even through the stinging, buzzing pain, I can nearly feel the outline of his hand, imprinted on me.

  I like it. I shouldn’t, but I do, and I moan. For once I can be as loud as I want.

  His hand strikes me again. Now it’s millimeters from my cunt, and the crackling feeling is sparking over my lips and through me. I know I’m almost ludicrously wet, but I can’t help it. He spanks me again, on the other cheek, in the same place, just barely brushing my pussy lips and the combination of pleasure and pain is almost more than I can take.

  Mr. Declan pauses for a second, running one finger along my seam.

  “You’re soaking wet, you filthy girl,” he growls. “You must like being spanked before being fucked.”

  At the words being fucked my knees nearly give out, and I just gasp, my hands clenching into fists. Mr. Declan chuckles, and before I can react, another blow lands, this time on a place he’s already hit, the blow cushioned by the slight numbness there, the stinging pain somehow landing deeper. My hips lurch into the marble, the points digging through my flesh to find the hard bone beneath.

  It hurts, but it feels good and I don’t even know which is which any more. I’m trembling all over, from the sheer power of this, the sensation that I’ve utterly given up control to someone else — to my boss — and from the discovery that I like this.

  I really like this.

  I re-anchor my feet, taking tiny steps to stay upright, and prepare myself for another delicious onslaught. I arch my back, sticking out my ass to say, I can take it.

  Instead, his fingertip is on my low back, and he traces a line downward, between my ass cheeks. He pauses at the bud of my back hole, circling it carefully and making me gasp before making his way down my crack, between my lips and to my clit.

  “Mr. Declan,” I whimper, barely able to control myself.

  “You take a spanking like a very good girl,” he says, fingertip resting on my clit without moving. Torturing me.

  “Spank me more,” I breathe.

  “I’ll spank you when I like,” he says, a low note of ferocity and hunger in his voice as he leans over, his lips close to my ear. “And I’ll spank you as much as I like, as hard as I like, because you’re my dirty girl and you like the filthy things I do to you.”

  I just nod, utterly unable to find words and he lands two more blows on my ass, the hardest yet. Hard enough to push my upper thighs into the table, toppling me off balance so now my weight is on the table instead of my feet. My cunt is pulsing, dripping with my juices, and nothing’s even touching me. I think I might come if he spanks me again.

  “Thank you,” I gasp, lying on a table, completely helpless.

  Mr. Declan walks away, but I don’t move. If he wanted me to move, he would tell me, so I wait, patient and blind.

  When he returns, he takes both my wrists roughly in his hands and closes something around them, something flexible but immovable, soft on the inside but unyielding. Instinctually, I try to move my wrists but I can’t. Now I’m handcuffed and blindfolded, completely at Mr. Declan’s mercy.

  Not to mention more turned on than I’ve ever been in my life.

  Mr. Declan pulls on my handcuffs and my shoulders go back. I scramble to get my feet back under myself. I’m wobbly since I can’t see and couldn’t catch myself if I fell, but then he’s holding onto me, his hands half demanding and half protective.

  The message is clear: while I’m here, I’m his. He’s the only thing that can hurt me or make me feel good, and I’m totally under his control.

  We walk across the cool floor slowly, Mr. Declan guiding me almost gently before he lets me go. There’s a chain hanging down from my handcuffs, hitting softly against the backs of my legs, and I hear him grab something else.

  “Get on your knees,” he says, standing behind me.

  I obey, a little unsteadily, and I feel off-balance as I settle on my heels.

  Then he locks something around my ankles as well, and I realize what the second chain was for.

  You could say stop, I think. You know he’d listen.

  I’ve never been less tempted by anything.

  He walks in front of me again and I hear his zipper slide down. My mouth waters, and I swallow. I feel dirtier than ever, but I can’t wait to feel him between my lips, can’t wait to take him down my throat and feel him empty himself inside me.

  Then the warm, soft head of his cock is hard against my lips, like velvet-covered steel: absolutely hard, the skin soft. I suck him in instantly, my lips sliding down his shaft, running my tongue along the underside. I pull my head back and listen to him groan, swirling my tongue around the head of his cock.

  God, I like that sound. I like knowing that he’s watching me obey his every command like a wanton slut. His slut.

  I open my jaw as wide as I can until the head of his cock is at the entrance to my throat, and then I relax. I’ve gotten plenty of practice in the past week and now he slides into my throat easily, one fist tightening in my hair as he growls, his cock jerking even harder.

  “Do you know how sexy you are, on your knees with my cock in your mouth?” he asks.

  I can’t exactly answer, his hand pushing my nose into the soft curls on his lower belly, but I swallow. His hand gets tighter, and I give up control to him yet again.

  Mr. Declan pumps my head up and down on his cock. My eyes are watering and my saliva is running down my chin, but every time he pulls back to let me breathe I suck at him hungrily, my mouth slurping at his head.

  Finally, with a long groan, he pulls out of my mouth and holds my head back. I stick my tongue out, looking for his cock, even though I must look ridiculous.

  I’m panting for breath, so horny I think I might come with no stimulation at all, but I need him back in my mouth.

  “Let me make you come,” I say. “Please.”

  More than anything, I want to feel his cock throb and pulse in my mouth, and I want to swallow every drop of him just to listen to the noises he makes. He’s also panting for breath, and he doesn’t respond.

  He just pushes his cock against my lips again and I swallow it, his hand pushing me down hard. It only takes seconds before he tenses, and I swallow, the only thing I can do.

  Then he comes hard, his cock throbbing and jerking in my throat, and the only thing I can do is swallow again and again, my lips against the soft hairs, my nose in his belly. Finally, he pulls me back and I slurp at his still-hard shaft, wanting to get every last drop.

  “You like swallowing me, don’t you?” he asks.

  I just nod. I hear a tissue yanked out of a tissue box, and he bends down, carefully wiping my face free of cum and saliva. It’s gentle, almost tender, and it takes me off-kilter for a moment.

  “Thank you, Mr. Declan,” I whisper.

  “Stand,” he says. I obey, and he takes me securely by the elbow again. Even though I don’t know what’s in store for me, I feel completely safe, protected, like nothing in the world could happen right now if Mr. Declan doesn’t want it to.

  “Kneel on the bed,” he says.

  I obey.

  “Now bend forward until you’re facedown,” he says, and I obey, the blood rushing to my face.

  I’m completely vulnerable, face down, ass up, pussy soaking wet and completely exposed. I couldn’t be more excited. He clips something else the bonds on my feet.
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  “Spread your knees apart,” he says, and I do. He must have put a new chain on then, because I can move my knees so far apart I feel like I might split in half, my hands still locked behind my back, still connected to my feet.

  “You have the prettiest little cunt,” he whispers, stroking my lips again, and I shiver.

  “Please fuck me,” I whisper. I can’t see and I can barely move, but my pussy aches for him to enter me with his still-hard cock, for him to take what he wants from me, no matter what it is.

  “I’ll do whatever I want,” he growls, and pinches my clit so hard it half-hurts even as it nearly makes me come. I shout into the pillow because I can’t help myself any longer, but then his hands disappear.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Mr. Declan

  I step back and just look at Sloane: on her knees on the bed, ass up and bright red, hands bound behind her back, her feet shackled with a spreader bar between them. Completely and utterly at my mercy, just waiting for me to do something to her.

  Anything. I could do anything, and we both know it. We both like it. She’s unbelievably wet right now, and I’m having a hard time not just fucking her hard, right now.

  But I have other plans, first, because I want her in every way I can have her, and that takes patience.

  I take the silicone plug from my pocket and turn it over once in my fingers. It’s not big, but it’s not the smallest size, either; a few inches long with a flared base.

  The material has a little bit of give to it, but that’s because it’s designed for long-term use. I reach into the bedside table, take some lube, and smear it on the plug, then on my fingers.

  Then I bring my face to Sloane's cunt, her thighs in my hands. I start at her clit and lick her slowly in a straight line, from her sensitive button, down her dripping seam, and all the way to her tight, rosy pink back hole. I move my tongue around it and push inside just slightly, feeling her resist me, before I move back to flick my tongue over her clit.