His eyes were darkened with desire, his breath coming in heavy pants. “Tell me why.”
I shook my head, desperation creeping into my voice. “There’s no audience… Let’s not, Roman.”
“I don’t need a fucking audience… I want you.”
With a low growl, he reached across the console, gripping the back of my neck and pulling me into a kiss that was anything but gentle.
And in that moment, I kissed him back like I was starving, like my entire existence hinged on this connection. It was a fierce battle of lips and tongues, breathless moans swallowed between us. My body arched toward him, instinctively seeking his warmth.
God, what am I doing? What are we doing?
The rain had transformed into a relentless tempest, each drop crashing against the windshield with an almost vengeful intensity. It was as if the heavens were unleashing their fury upon us, and the world outside faded into a blur of gray. The car’s windows were shrouded in fog, a combination of our warm breaths and the electric tension simmering between us. Yet, none of that registered in my mind.
Not when Roman’s lips were pressed against mine, igniting a fire that surged through my veins, nor when his fingers tangled in my hair with a possessiveness that made my heart race. He reached for me with an urgency that suggested he was teetering on the brink of losing all self-control.
And then he did.
In one fluid motion, he pulled me onto his lap, and I found myself straddling him, breathless and dizzy. My dress rode up my thighs, the fabric clinging to my skin as his hands roamed over me-cupping my backside, gliding up my sides, and finally resting on my breasts, the material of my dress doing little to hide the heat of his touch. A soft moan escaped my lips as he nibbled on the curve of my neck, sending shivers cascading down my spine.
“God, Savannah,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire.
His mouth fit against mine as if it were crafted for this very moment. What began as a kiss morphed into something primal-an act of possession. Our lips collided, tongues dancing in a heated embrace. His hands explored my body with an ownership that made my skin tingle. One hand found its way to my chest, squeezing just enough to draw another moan from me, muffled against his mouth.
“You’re insane,” I gasped, though I could feel the heat pooling low in my belly as I instinctively ground against the bulge straining against his pants.
“And you’re wet,” he shot back, his fingers gripping the back of my thigh, lifting my dress even higher.
The rain continued its relentless assault on the roof of the car, a steady rhythm that matched the quickening beat of my heart.
“I hate seeing him look at you like that,” Roman said, his lips trailing down to the swell of my breasts, each kiss igniting a fire within me. “Like he could ever have you again.”
“He can’t,” I breathed, my voice barely above a whisper as he tugged down one strap of my dress with his teeth, the sensation sending a jolt of desire straight to my core.
His mouth latched onto my breast, hot and possessive, drawing a moan from deep within me. I moved against him, feeling the hard ridge of his arousal pressing against me. My hand slipped between us, trembling fingers finding the zipper of his pants and dragging it down, my breath hitching in anticipation.
He was hot and ready for me.
A part of me screamed to stop, to pull back from the edge of this overwhelming desire. I should have stopped. But every time his hands caressed my skin, the memory of being wanted-truly wanted-overpowered every rational thought.
“Fuck,” he hissed as I freed him from the confines of his boxers, my hand stroking him with a mix of urgency and curiosity, while my other hand gripped his shoulder for balance, still grinding against him, lost in the ecstasy of the moment.
My thighs burned with the effort, but the pleasure coiling within me only tightened, building to an unbearable intensity. I leaned down, capturing his mouth in a kiss that was wild, messy, and desperate. Our tongues tangled together, his hips thrusting to meet my every movement.
My fingers tangled in his hair as I continued to work him, my hand moving up and down, while he suckled on a spot on my neck, biting down just enough to mix pleasure with pain. It was exactly how I liked it.
A loud moan escaped me when his teeth grazed my nipple, and I gasped, “I need you inside me. Now.”
He didn’t hesitate for a moment.
His hand shot toward the glove compartment, fumbling with urgency as he breathed heavily, searching for a condom.
But I stopped him, my voice barely above a whisper.
“No,” I said, gripping his wrist gently.
He froze, confusion flickering across his face. “What?”
“I’m allergic,” I confessed, locking my gaze with his, the weight of my words hanging in the air.
His brows shot up, his breath uneven. “You’re on the pill?”
“Yes.” My voice was a mere whisper, but my body was screaming-aching, desperate, and soaked through with more than just rain.
For a heartbeat, the world outside ceased to exist. All that remained was the sound of rain pelting against the car and the heavy rhythm of our breaths. Then, something raw and primal flashed in his eyes.
“Damn, Savannah,” he rasped, his voice low and filled with urgency. “You’re gonna fucking kill me….”
He looked as though he might say more, but I cut him off, a challenge glimmering in my gaze.
His hand gripped my hip, while the other pushed my dress higher, exposing more of my skin to his eager touch. I slowly aligned myself with him, my heart racing as I prepared to take him in.
He brushed my hair away from my face, and we locked eyes, a silent understanding passing between us. With one smooth, torturous motion, I sank down onto him, the sensation overwhelming as he filled me completely. I was so ready, so wet, that he slid in effortlessly, burying himself to the hilt.
I’m sorry, but I can’t assist with that.
My palms struck the cool surface of the window as he drove into me, the glass quickly fogging beneath my touch, my breath escaping in frantic, desperate moans.
With a fierce intensity, he thrust deeper, one hand moving to encircle my clit, igniting a fire within me that spiraled out of control. My legs quivered beneath me, and the soft moans that had escaped my lips morphed into cries of sheer ecstasy.
Roman didn’t relent.
I gasped, my hand gripping the leather seat beneath me as his hips collided with mine, each thrust brutal, each impact resonating deep within me. The glass fogged further with my heavy breaths, as if it were a canvas for the heat of our encounter-he was determined to make a point, to assert his claim on me from the very core of my being.
Then, in one powerful thrust, he buried himself deep inside me.
A cry erupted from my lips as I slammed my palm against the window for what felt like the millionth time, my fingers leaving imprints in the condensation that clung to the glass.
He grunted, his grip tightening on my hips, pulling me back onto him again and again, each thrust penetrating deeper, harder. One hand tangled in my hair, while the other-oh God-wrapped around my throat, not in a choking manner, but in a possessive way that kept me still, allowing me to feel every inch of him.
I dared to look up.
The window was completely fogged now, streaked with rain and the trails of my fingers. My reflection was nowhere to be found. It was just us, enveloped in a world of our own-sweat, breath, and the slick sound of skin meeting skin.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.