Royal's Arranged Love

By: Sophia Lynn, Ana Adams

She arched beneath him, mouth caught in an O-shape, as his cock found the last inch of space inside her. Chest heaving against her, he groaned and flexed against her pelvis, the warmth of her pussy nearly driving him over the edge.

“Clara,” he gasped, rolling his hips in a slow circle. “You feel amazing.”

She locked her ankles behind his back, eyes wild, her chignon bun loose with stray hairs around her face. “Amazing doesn’t even cover it. Fuck me, Adrien.”

He pumped slowly at first, and then harder as their rhythm emerged; his mind catapulted into the stars and pleasure grew at a frightening rate, sidling up through his limbs, zipping through every vein in his body. She cried out and arched against him. He pulled her closer to him and fucked her hard—so hard he couldn’t see straight. Sweat pooled at his temples as they moved toward a blissful climax.

She was the first to go. She clutched his biceps, nails digging into his flesh as she screamed again, her pussy convulsing and quaking around his cock as she slipped over the edge. The tiny points of pain in his arms pushed him over the edge, too; he groaned and released, hot cum spilling out as the orgasm shuddered through him.

As the last dregs of pleasure drained, he leaned down for a kiss, her eyelashes fluttering against his cheek. Stroking her cheek with his thumb, their eyes locked. A grin erupted on her face.

“Damn.” She blinked lazily, ankles still locked around his back.

“You’re right about that.” His voice came out weak, stilted. The woman had taken his breath away.

She sighed happily and nuzzled against his chest. “Adrien, I think I can safely say this is the best house tour I’ve ever gotten in my life.”

Chapter Five

Sunlight broke through the black curtains of the bedroom. Clara opened one eye to assess her surroundings. Adrien’s bed was larger than a king—what it was called, she couldn’t even imagine—and the comforter felt like it was made of actual velvet clouds. She sighed, nuzzling deeper into the comfy nest, unwilling to totally wake up and end this penthouse adventure.

“Did you sleep well?” Adrien’s voice appeared at her ear, deep and calming. She grinned without meaning to.

“Better than well.” She yawned, turning to face him. They’d spooned the entire night despite the gargantuan dimensions of his bed. “I slept so well, I don’t think I can ever go back to my regular bed. You’ve ruined me for life.”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “I know one more way I’ll be ruining you this morning.”

“That sounds…a little frightening.”

“I promise it’s not. I want to make you breakfast.”

“And how will that ruin me?”

His finger traced the bottom swell of her breast. “Well…waffles.”

She gasped. “You will ruin me! I can’t wait.”

Nuzzling her neck, Adrien placed soft kisses behind her ear. “Shall we?”

She tossed back the covers and they both hopped out of bed. Following him to the kitchen, feet smashing pleasantly into the soft carpet of his bedroom, she stretched. Now this was one cool way to wake up after a shitty day at work.

In the expansive kitchen, Adrien reached for an apron hanging on a hidden hook. Wrapping it around his waist, he surveyed the work space. His apron read Trophy Husband. Clara suppressed a giggle.

He cast a quizzical look at her as he rummaged through cabinets, gathering the necessary ingredients. “What?”

“Your apron.”

He glanced down and then laughed. “Oh, right. This was a gift from one of my best friends.”

“Cute gift. You’re not somebody’s husband, are you?”

He scoffed. “God, no.”

The confirmation both relieved and confused her. It wasn’t like she expected anything more from him than this unexpected, sexually-satisfying night. But deep inside, the idea of him as a husband was strangely titillating and bizarre. Better to push those thoughts away. They didn’t belong in her reality.

Adrien whipped together the basic ingredients for the waffle batter with surprising dexterity. At first glance the night before, she’d never have pegged him for a man who knew his way around the kitchen…much less with such whisking skills.

“I have to say…for a man with a driver who works in some remote division of technology…I’m surprised you know how to cook.”

He glanced up at her, wisps of his pompadour from the night before falling over his eye. “I think that’s a compliment.”

“It is. And you’re right, you’re ruining me.” You’re too gorgeous, too funny, and too amazing to be real.

“And you haven’t even tried the waffles yet! At least taste them. They might be awful. I haven’t made these in years.”

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