Rule Me Dirty: A Royal Bad Boy Romance

by Parker Grey

  Well, I think. I’m not fired, at least.

  Somehow, I sleep okay. Even though my huge king-sized bed, which I swear is the size of my entire apartment, feels empty somehow, I sleep like a baby.

  It must be a magically comfortable rich person bed or something. I think my own mattress is from the dollar store. Not really, but it feels that way sometimes.

  Still, I wake up buzzing, every nerve in my body jumping and clanging. I dreamed that Mr. Declan came in while I was sleeping and that he was here next to me. He isn’t, but he’s supposed to be here today.

  I just hope that, after whatever happened yesterday, we can still do this. I hope he still wants to do this, because honestly, I’m ready to throw caution to the wind. I don’t care if we get caught, if I get fired, if I never work in advertising again.

  I need him.

  I head downstairs, to the dining room, at seven in the morning, only half awake.

  Mr. Declan is standing in front of the coffee urn, pouring the black liquid into a mug. He’s wearing running gear, shorts that come to just above his knees and a shirt that’s damp with his sweat and clinging to his torso. Even so, he looks commanding, like he’s in control, despite the sweat still running down his neck.

  I freeze in the doorway, just staring at him. My legs turn to liquid. I hold my breath, and I almost turn around and run away, because I’m afraid I’m about to make a fool of myself here, now, where anyone could walk in at any minute.

  Then he turns and sees me, looking like a deer in the headlights.

  And he smiles.

  “It’s a beautiful day,” Mr. Declan says, like nothing is wrong, like he doesn’t know that there’s an enormous plug in my ass that he put there, like he doesn’t know my pussy floods every time he looks at me.

  One of the chef’s assistants bustles through the door from the kitchen and puts a big bowl of berries on the table. I force my legs to move, and I take a couple of steps into the room, grab my own coffee mug.

  “Yeah, we got lucky,” I say, like I’m just making small talk with my boss.

  What I really mean is I missed you and I need you to fuck me.

  The chef’s assistant bustles back out, and suddenly we’re alone and I’m holding an empty coffee mug.

  Mr. Declan closes the few feet between us and suddenly he’s towering over me. I can smell him, salty and a little metallic, the smell of hard work and fresh exertion.

  Even that turns me on, and I wonder what’s wrong with me.

  Mr. Declan takes my jaw in one big, strong hand, and tilts my face up. My heart pounds, because anyone could catch us in here, right now, and this is totally unprofessional.

  “Sorry I couldn’t come yesterday,” he says, a slow smile crossing his face. “I had to deal with a situation.”

  I raise my eyebrows.

  “What happened?”

  “Camille threatened to frame me, then blackmail me,” he says, his voice almost casual.

  I blink.

  “I told you I’d take care of it,” he murmurs, his face closer to mine. He puts his coffee mug down on the sideboard, and then his other hand is on my lower back, slipping down my ass.

  Then he kisses me hard, right there in the middle of the dining room. His tongue pushes its way between my lips, over my teeth, and he plunders my mouth like he owns me and doesn’t care who knows it.

  With his other hand, he cups my ass, like he’s claiming me. I wore pants for once — there’s going to be a lot of running around and lifting things today — but I still didn’t wear panties.

  He plunges his hand down the back of my pants, his fingers sliding down my crack. He finds the plug and taps it once, then pulls his mouth off of mine.

  “Good girl,” he whispers.

  I moan quietly. It’s ridiculous, but I can’t help it.

  “Yesterday was torture,” he says, his voice lowering to a growl. “All I’ve thought about all week was your tight pussy and your sweet asshole, but I had to deal with employee bullshit instead.”

  I swallow, my pulse racing, adrenaline shooting through my body.

  “Meetings don’t start for two more hours,” I whisper.

  He half-smiles.

  “I’ve got coffee with the board in thirty,” he says, then lowers his head to my ear. “And I plan on taking much, much longer than thirty minutes with you.”

  Please fuck me, right here, right now, I think. I don’t say it out loud.

  “Yes, Mr. Declan,” I whisper.

  He nods once and takes a step away. Now we just look like any boss and employee getting coffee in the morning, talking about the weather.

  “I’ve got to go shower before this meeting,” he says, his voice normal again. Someone else bustles in and puts a plate of bagels on the table, and I get a little dizzy with relief that she didn’t come in ten seconds earlier.

  I just nod, then fill my mug with coffee.

  “I’ll go start prepping,” I say. I have no idea what I’m prepping for — some meeting, I’m sure — but I have to say something.

  He takes a sip of coffee and smiles at me.

  “Thank you, Sloane,” he says.

  Then he walks for the door and leaves me standing there, in front of a coffee pot, absolutely soaking wet.

  Chapter Twenty

  Mr. Declan

  It might be the longest day of my life. At eight in the morning, I have coffee with the board, and from there it’s nothing but meetings, bullshit team building activities, lunch with the other partners, more of the same.

  I know it’s my company. I know I planned all this, that it’s all going according to my instruction, and that’s why I can’t back out. That’s why I can’t suddenly disappear with my assistant for three hours. I have responsibilities, and it’s hell.

  Dinner is at seven, and as the agency’s partners linger over wine, I see a someone walking past the big windows out on the patio.

  I’d recognize Sloane's walk anywhere, especially the erection it gives me. I excuse myself quickly, walk through a brief hallway, step onto another part of the patio.

  Sloane's leaning against the wooden railing, looking out toward the beach. The sun has just set, the sky glowing orange, and I step up behind her as she turns her head.

  “Today went very well,” I say, forcing myself not to touch her. Anyone could be watching. “I can’t thank you enough.”

  She looks up at me, smiling, and nods once.

  “Just doing my job,” she says, her voice just barely coy as her hair drifts across her face, blown by the ocean breeze.

  Sloane leans against the railing just a little more, arches her back just a little, like she’s offering herself to me. Here, where anyone could see us.

  I turn toward the ocean, lightly resting my forearms on the railing next to her. I’m still wearing my button-down shirt and suit pants, but it’s a corporate retreat, so no tie or jacket. Practically casual, my sleeves rolled to me elbow.

  “If no one else were here, I’d tie you to the railing, bend you over, and make you come until you begged me to stop,” I growl.

  Sloane inhales sharply, and I smile, still looking at the ocean and not at her. Like we’re just chatting about work.

  “I know you feel the plug in your ass every time you move,” I say. “Did you spend all day thinking about how it’ll feel when it’s my cock there instead?”

  I glance at her. She’s bright red, her face practically neon.

  “Yes,” she whispers.

  My dick is so hard it might explode.

  “My room here is on the top floor,” I say. “To the right of the stairs. The one with lilies in a vase on a table.”

  She takes a deep breath, like she’s trying to steady herself.

  “I didn’t know you liked lilies,” she says.

  “I don’t, particularly,” I say. “I just don’t want you in someone else’s room.”

  She nods slightly.

  “I’ll be there in half an hour,” I say, loweri
ng my voice again. “I want you there, waiting for me. Clothed, because I want to undress you myself.”

  She nods, looking at me, her face still aflame.

  I raise my eyebrows, and she smiles, just a little.

  “Yes, Mr. Declan,” she says.

  It’s the longest half hour of a long day, but through sheer willpower, I resist going to my room until then. I have another drink with a few board members and the other partners, but I don’t have a damn idea what they’re saying.

  All I can think about is Sloane, unbuttoning her prim blouse slowly. Wiggling her hips as she pushes her pants down. Walking over to me, getting on her knees, her sweet pink tongue licking my cock before she inhales me hungrily.

  Twenty-nine minutes. I drain the last of my scotch, set the glass on a table, and leave the room without saying goodbye. I practically sprint up the steps to my room, opening the door and locking it behind myself before I scan the room.

  She’s there, sitting in a straight-backed armchair next to the table with the lilies. She was gazing out the window but looks over at me when I walk in. I lock the door behind myself, toss my key on the table, and lean over her as she blinks up at me, her eyes wide and innocent even though I know she’s thinking something utterly filthy.

  “Good girl,” I whisper, and she bites her lip. Her arms are resting on the arms of the chair, and I close my hands over her wrists, holding her down as I kiss her hard.

  I don’t take any mercy on her. I don’t have any to give, because I’m worn down by the past couple of days. There’s nothing left but raw, aching need for her so I push my tongue into her mouth, pushing her knees apart with one leg, because she’s mine to take and I want to take her now.

  Sloane moans into my mouth. I tighten my grip on her wrists, my pulsing, driving need practically ruling over me. I want her helpless against her own lust, I want her mine in every way possible, whispering my name as she comes, over and over again.

  I let go of one wrist and cup one perfect, full breast in my hand, caressing it until her nipple is hard, poking through the fabric of her top and she moans into my mouth again.

  Then she pulls back and turns her head away from me. I pinch her nipple, and she sucks in a breath but doesn’t move back.

  “Wait,” she says, panting for breath, her voice a rush.

  “No,” I say, pinching harder.

  A noise comes out of her throat and her eyes slide shut. Sloane swallows hard.

  “I want to do something,” she says.

  “What?” I ask, my fingers still on her nipple, my lips on her ear. There are goosebumps on her arm. I know the effect I’m having on her.

  “Let me stand up,” she says.

  I think about making her stay down, about fucking her right here in this chair, but I release her wrist and take a step back and she stands, pointing at a chair opposite hers, flicking her eyes up to mine.

  “Sit down,” she says, softly.

  I do it. She takes a few steps toward me, her hips shifting as she walks in heels, and I suddenly realize that she’s wearing something different than she was earlier: a skintight red dress that hugs her perfectly, showing off every luscious curve.

  Then, slowly, she turns around. She reaches up her back and pulls the zipper down, revealing her white back inch by inch, swaying her hips back and forth as she does. I’m transfixed, utterly spellbound, and she looks over her shoulder at me, eyes wide, like she wants to make sure I’m enjoying the show.

  It takes her one glance at my lap to get that answer. I’m already hard as steel, touching myself through my pants because I can’t help it.

  Slowly, she pushes the dress from her shoulders and wiggles her hips until it falls to the floor and all she’s wearing is a bra, a garter belt, and thigh-high stockings.

  Sloane bends over slightly, her hands on her thighs, her back straight. I can barely see the plug peeking from between her cheeks, but the sight of it makes me groan, and she looks back over her shoulder. My dick throbs in my hand.

  She turns around again, letting her fingers roam over her breasts, still covered with a black lace bra. Her lips part and her eyes glaze over as she rolls her nipples between her fingers, still looking me dead in the eye.

  I unzip my pants, my cock practically leaping free, and I stroke it hard with my fist. Her eyes go straight down and she watches, fascinated.

  I can’t take this anymore, and I stand.

  “Take your bra off,” I say, and she does, letting it fall away, her perfect tits full and round, her pink nipples hard as diamonds. She reaches to undo the garter belt, but I stop her.

  “Leave that on,” I say, my voice commanding even to my own ears. “Sit on the table, spread your legs, and touch yourself.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Sloane

  One more time, I’m nearly naked while Mr. Declan is almost fully clothed. It could look silly for him to have just his cock sticking out, but I’m so fucking horny and it’s such a nice cock that it’s sexy as hell.

  I lean against the table and slide my fingers along my pussy. Mr. Declan watches, going to his suitcase and getting something out, then walking back toward me.

  “Turn around,” he says, and I obey. He pulls me against him, hard, and I can feel his massive cock between my ass cheeks. I arch my back and press myself into him, and he runs his hands down my body possessively.

  Then he adjusts me until his cock is between my upper thighs, its length rubbing against my lips and clit, and I moan, feeling like I’m practically melting into him. I put one hand on the table and start to lean forward, more than ready for him to fuck me hard against it, but he stops me.

  He takes something out of his pocket. It jingles slightly in his hand, and without revealing it, he pinches both my nipples until they’re puffy and sticking straight out.

  It’s a chain. I look down as he slides two clamps around my nipples at the same time, and I gasp as they pinch me almost to the point of pain.

  Almost, but not quite. The thin chain bounces against my stomach, and the motion tugs the clamps on my nipples slightly, just enough for it to feel amazing.

  I grunt, the only noise I can make.

  “You like these?” he asks, tugging on the chain gently.

  “Yes,” I whisper, moving my hips back and forth, rocking myself against his cock.

  He spins me around roughly and kisses me, hard and fast.

  “Good,” he says, fire lighting in his eyes. “I like seeing them on you.”

  With that, he grabs my hair and pushes me down.

  “On your knees,” he growls, and then I’m there, chain bouncing.

  I don’t hesitate. I know why I’m here, and I take his cock into my mouth hungrily, swirling my tongue around the head, pulling back with a slurp. Above me, Mr. Declan groans as I bob my head up and down a few more times.

  Then he pushes me and I open my throat, taking him all the way in, as deep as he can go.

  “Jesus,” he whispers, not letting me up yet. When he finally does, my eyes are watering, and I can only get a quick breath before he pushes me down again, roughly and I swallow him.

  I shouldn’t like it, but I do. It’s so dirty, so submissive to be used like this that it turns me on like crazy. I want him to use me. I want to make him feel good, let him fuck my throat and come in my mouth.

  I like that he has total access to me, and that I turn him on this much.

  Finally, he pulls me back and his cock pops out of my mouth wetly. I’m leaning back a little, panting for breath, and he looks down at me, seeming a little undone. Then he collects himself and lets my hair go, then pulls me to my feet.

  “Do you know how hard it is not to come in your sweet, perfect mouth?” he growls, running his thumb along my chin. “Yesterday I jerked off in the men’s room thinking about the way you swallow my cock.”

  I blush.

  “I like making you come that way,” I admit.

  He reaches one hand between my legs, feeling my we
tness, and chuckles.

  “Go kneel on the bed facing the headboard,” he says.

  I obey, and in seconds he’s behind me, snapping leather cuffs around my wrists, looping them around the headboard until I’m bound firmly, on my knees, elbows leaning up against the board. To the right of the massive bed is a huge floor-to-ceiling mirror, close enough that I can see myself in detail.

  There’s no way that’s an accident.

  Mr. Declan stands and starts unbuttoning his shirt. I watch with unbridled lust as he reveals his hard pecs and rippling abs, then shrugs off the sleeves. I watch his arm muscles flex and roll. His pants follow, and then he looks at me, stroking his cock in his hand.

  He gets back on the bed, behind me, and watches us in the mirror, sliding one finger slowly down my spine, over the plug in my ass, dipping between my soaking wet lips, all the way to my clit. I arch my back harder, offering myself to him, and he starts rubbing my clit in slow, lazy circles with one thumb.

  I jerk against my restraints. The chain attached to my nipples bounces, and I make a wild, guttural noise without meaning to.

  Mr. Declan slides two fingers into my pussy, rotating them and flexing them inside me, and I bite my lip and lean back, wanting more. He pushes a third finger inside, making my toes curl, but that’s not what I really want.

  What I really want is his cock, of course, and I watch it in the mirror as he pulls his fingers out of my pussy, then takes my hair in one hand and turns my head, his dripping fingers in front of my face.

  “Taste yourself,” he says, and I open my mouth obediently, sucking my own juices from all three fingers as hard as I can.

  Fuck, I feel dirty, licking my own wetness from my boss’s fingers as he kneels behind me, handcuffed to a bed, practically begging him to fuck me. And if this is dirty, we’re going to get filthy before the night is over.

  I can’t wait.

  He kisses me again, but this time his cock is at my entrance as he does and as he kisses me, he thrusts himself in with one hard stroke. The plug in my ass moves and he hits the exact right spot and I moan into his mouth, loud enough for it to echo.