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That would come in handy for her in the future.
I returned to her gorgeous, soaked pussy and smeared her honey across my face before thrusting my tongue back into her sweet juices. Thank God, my mother and Star were out shopping. I didn’t need any interruptions when this beauty broke apart on my tongue.
Soon, she was screaming my name in a looping chant.
Her thighs clamped around my head, and I had to pry them open to have enough room to maneuver and continue until she fell down the rabbit hole of her second tongue-fucking.
As she was coming down, I loosened my belt and massaged the red slashes marking her wrists and hands. My gaze surveyed the chaos of her room.
Clara must have read my expression because she said pertly, “I’m a mafie princess.” Swallowing gulps of air until her breathing returned to normal, she continued, “In LA, we have maids who take care of everything.”
She reached over to her nightstand and hooked a pair of dainty white lace panties with her index finger and smirked at me. “Considering you bought these, I’d imagine you’d like to see them.”
“See them on you,” I corrected. “Not all over your room. My mother cleans and takes care of everything. She doesn’t trust people snooping in her house, as she puts it.”
“That makes sense,” she replied with somber eyes. She knew, as well as I did, the many dangers of our lifestyle. The FBI made regular attempts to infiltrate families like ours.
“I’m a princess, so I’m allowed to be spoiled,” she said, sticking her tongue out at me.
“Darling, you’re not a princess. Star’s a princess. Gabby’s a princess. You’re a queen, and don’t you forget it,” I scolded.
Her breath caught. Her eyes glistened.
Dammit, what did I say?
She sniffed back a little cry.
Tipping my head to the side, I cupped her cheek and asked gently, “What is it, baby girl?”
She shook her head, indicating that nothing was wrong.
Realization dawned on me. “You like when I call you queen,” I noted.
“To hear someone outside my family say it makes it feel all the more real. Considering I’m sacrificing my life to become queen, it means a lot to hear it.”
“Baby, you don’t have to sacrifice anything to be my queen,” I assured her.
“I’d have to renounce my clan,” she replied, her lips drooping on the sides into a frown.
I snorted. “You most definitely would not. You choose to follow your father’s scheme, no one else. I’ve seen the way your clan members treat you. They love you. Put your foot down with your father, and if he doesn’t accept it, then go for it anyway. They’ll support you.”
“Not all of them,” she murmured.
I clucked her chin. “Listen, gorgeous, it’s the mafie. You know you’ll inevitably have to fight someone to claim or maintain your throne. It’s part of our culture. What does it matter if it’s sooner or later?”
“Hmmm,” she said, clearly wanting to move past our conversation. Her fingers reached for my zipper as I rose to my knees, on either side of her hips.
My hand landed on hers, stilling her movement, and I asked, “What are you doing?”
“Something I’ve been fantasizing about for a while,” she replied coquettishly.
My grip tightened on her. My throat constricted, my Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as I swallowed.
“I’m ugly,” I rasped out. Hadn’t the boys taunted me with those same words when they stripped me naked in the school bathroom before Alex stormed in and ran them out?
Her eyelashes batted furiously and her breath stuttered out. “W-what?”
I shook my head, licked my parched lips, and said, “You don’t have to do this.”
