“Well, well,” he whispered, a teasing lilt in his voice. “Someone’s drenched. Guess sleep turns you on, hm?”
His other hand tightened around my breast, squeezing with an intensity that made me bite down hard on the inside of my cheek to stifle the whimper threatening to escape. Every nerve ending in my body ignited with awareness, breathless and alive, as his fingers began a slow, maddening exploration.
One finger first-a tease, a tantalizing brush against the sensitive skin. I wanted to strangle him, kiss him, or perhaps both. But I couldn’t give in just yet.
I gripped the sheets tighter, squeezing my thighs together, but it was a futile effort. My body was already surrendering to him.
Then, he added a second finger, thick and deliberate.
My hips bucked, just once, a silent admission that he had me-helpless and dripping on his hand. I mentally cursed myself for pretending to be asleep while my body was practically weeping for him. My nipple tightened beneath his palm, a clear betrayal, and he let out a low, knowing hum.
“Such a bad liar,” he murmured against my neck, his lips barely grazing my skin.
Still asleep, Savannah. Just keep pretending. Still asleep.
He moved his fingers inside me with a languid, deliberate curl, hitting that exact spot that sent jolts of electricity coursing through my spine.
He wasn’t fast; Roman wasn’t cruel. He was methodical, wicked in a way that left me begging without shame. He unraveled me with the patience of a master.
His fingers worked their magic-slow curls that found a spot so deep and sharp I thought I might burst into flame. My breath faltered, caught somewhere between a gasp and a moan.
“You’re shaking,” he smirked, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “You’re going to come for me, pretending to be asleep. That’s filthy, love.”
I was crumbling silently, eyes still shut, pretending that I hadn’t just been reduced to a quivering, soaking mess with his hand buried deep between my thighs.
And just when I thought I couldn’t take another second, he curled his fingers just right-and I saw stars. I had to bite down hard on my bottom lip to suppress the moan that threatened to escape. My chest arched forward, betraying me even further.
“Damn,” he breathed, his voice barely a whisper against the shell of my ear. “You’re trying so hard, aren’t you? Lying here like a good little girl… when all you want to do is cry out and beg.”
He shifted slightly, pressing his chest tighter against my back as he curled his fingers again, igniting another wave of pleasure.
A quiet moan slipped from my lips before I could stop it, and I instantly clamped my mouth shut.
He didn’t relent. His fingers continued their expert dance, slow and sinful, moving in a rhythm that felt like exquisite torture.
“Don’t worry,” he whispered, his breath hot against my skin. “I’ll be gentle. I won’t make you scream. Just a little tremble under my fingers. That’s all I need.”
I was teetering on the edge, gasping without sound, breath hitching in a silent crescendo, my toes curling under the sheets in desperation.
“Just like that, love. Come for me,” he coaxed, his voice sultry and commanding.
He began to curl his fingers again, slow and steady, dragging me right to the precipice, knowing I couldn’t afford to fall-not yet. Not when-
Knock knock.
“Savannah, dear!” My mother’s cheerful yet slightly exhausted voice filtered through the door, shattering the moment. “Your sister’s back home! Your presence is required downstairs. Can you come down, please?”
At that, I nearly cried.
Roman stilled his fingers, a dark chuckle escaping him, as if he reveled in the chaos of the moment.
His fingers remained inside me, deep and still, as if he intended to leave me hanging in this maddening state. I took a shaky breath, attempting to calm the frantic beating of my heart, and forced myself to stretch as if I were just waking up.
“Oh… okay, I’m coming,” I called out weakly, my voice rough from sleep.
My mother’s footsteps faded away, leaving me alone with Roman.
He leaned in, brushing his lips along my neck, his fingers still buried deep within me, unmoving yet maddeningly present.
“You’re not coming yet, love,” he whispered with a devilish smirk. “But you will be. Just not until I say so.”
Then, with an agonizing slowness, he pulled his fingers out-wet, glistening, unapologetically proud-and got out of bed.
“Better go downstairs, love,” he said with a wink, licking his fingers as he walked away. “You wouldn’t want to keep mommy waiting.”
I shot him a glare as he disappeared into the bathroom, frustration boiling within me.
Smug jerk.
I was left feeling hot, frustrated, and utterly cranky. What a terrible day this was shaping up to be, I thought as I hurried to freshen up.
But all the playful energy from earlier vanished the moment I descended the stairs and stepped into the scene unfolding before me.
Dean was there.
My stomach dropped like a stone.
He sat on a stool at the kitchen island, a bag of frozen peas pressed against his cheek, revealing a very evident black eye and a busted lip. Chloe clung to him, her worry palpable, while my entire family gathered around him, concerned.
And then he pointed straight at me.
All eyes turned to me, and I felt a rush of dread.
“It was her fault. Savannah’s to be blamed for this.”
“What are you saying?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper as I scanned the room, anxiety twisting my stomach into knots. My heart raced, pounding fiercely against my ribcage like a frantic alarm, warning me of the storm brewing within.
Dean stood there, unwavering, his expression a mask of calm that only fueled my unease. “Savannah was at the club with me, Chloe, and her fiancé. After Chloe’s performance, she left. A drunken guy wouldn’t stop bothering Sav. I had to step in. Turns out the jerk was armed. He came at me, but I dealt with it. I shudder to think what might have happened if I hadn’t been there. She really needs to make smarter choices next time.”
His words struck me like a physical blow, knocking the breath from my lungs. I staggered back, the world around me tilting as memories cascaded through my mind, both blurred and sharp.
The gentleman’s club-its dim lighting, the heavy scent of smoke and cheap perfume. Dean’s slurred speech, the way Chloe had set me up with such cruel precision. The glint of money in his eyes when he had offered it to me. His hands, invasive and unwelcome. Roman’s sudden appearance, a savior amidst chaos.
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.