“But you wouldn’t let me…”
“Not until you ask,” he replied simply, his fingers pressing into my thighs to keep me spread. “Say it. Beg me.”
My pride flared hot, and I shook my head, panting. “I don’t beg.”
He chuckled low in his throat. “Then you don’t come.”
He continued his maddening teasing-slow flicks, tantalizing strokes-but every time I neared the edge, he eased off. Over and over again, until I was trembling so hard my knees barely held me up.
“Please,” I finally gasped, the word torn from me like a confession I never wanted to make.
I had never known how pleasurable this could be-having someone go down on me-until that day when Roman pressed his lips to me and shattered everything I thought I knew.
He stilled. “Say it right.”
My eyes fluttered shut, swallowing my shame and the little shards of my dignity. “Please… let me come.”
That was when he devoured me-no more tension, no more restraint. His mouth worked me mercilessly, his tongue stroking me in a rhythm that felt designed to unravel me completely. My hands flew back into his hair, yanking, holding him there as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through me.
By the time it was over, my head had fallen back against the wall, my chest heaving, my legs trembling around his shoulders. He rose slowly, dragging his mouth up my body until his lips brushed against my ear.
“That,” he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction, “is what happens when you finally obey.”
He placed soft kisses on my flushed skin as I struggled to stabilize my breathing, groaning as I fell back against the wall, my heart pounding loudly in my ears.
And my mouth? It still never stopped begging.
“Please… please, Roman,” I breathed, my voice raw and ragged. “I need you. I want you inside me. Please, don’t wait.”
His other hand glided over my body, fingers splaying across my stomach before embarking on a tantalizing journey higher. The sensation sent shivers down my spine as he circled my nipples through the delicate fabric of my dress, each flick igniting a fire within me that made my breath hitch sharply.
I pushed feebly against his chest, a half-hearted attempt to regain control. “Please, Roman. Please take me-“
“I will,” he interrupted, his voice a low growl that sent a thrill through me. His grip tightened around my breast, and my knees felt like they might give way at any moment. “And I won’t stop until you’re holding me up.”
His kiss was deep and deliberate, each second stretching into eternity, as if he were savoring every moment of the wait he’d endured. He pressed his lips against mine again, this time with a slow, smoldering intensity that made my heart race.
With an urgency that was almost frantic, he pressed me against the wall, his hands tugging impatiently at my dress until it rested above my waist, leaving me exposed and vulnerable.
“Let’s see what I’ve been missing,” he murmured, his breath hot against my skin.
Without breaking our connection, his free hand slid down, fingers finding the heat between my legs. I gasped into his mouth, the shock of his touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through me, but he showed no sign of stopping.
“That dress was in my way,” he muttered darkly, “Now nothing is.”
His knuckles brushed over my sensitive heat, and the sound he made when he discovered how ready I was was low and dangerous, sending a jolt of desire straight to my core.
“You’ve been thinking about me too,” he rasped, his breath mingling with mine, “I can feel it.”
By now, I was writhing against him, my body a mess of conflicting sensations, whimpers and moans spilling from my lips as if I were under a spell. There was only one word my mouth had been conditioned to utter.
“Please…”
He grinned, a dark, mischievous smile that sent a thrill through me. “If you insist, love.”
Before I could gather my thoughts, he pulled me flush against the wall, his body heat radiating through the fabric of my dress. One leg hooked over his waist, while the other trembled beneath me, shaking with the intensity of the moment as he steadied me with firm hands.
He pressed his hot erection against me, grinding into me with a raw hunger. “You feel that?” he murmured, rolling his hips against mine. “That’s what you’ve been doing to me since the very first time. And I’m going to bury it so deep inside you, you’ll learn how to breathe without me.”
A sound escaped me, a mixture of a moan and a gasp, his words resonating deep within my soul.
His hands gripped my thigh, holding me tight, while the other fumbled with the zipper of his pants, freeing himself with a deliberate slowness that sent my pulse racing.
He shoved his pants down just enough, and then he was there-thick, hard, pulsing against me, a promise of what was to come.
He didn’t tease.
He didn’t hesitate.
With a hungry groan, he drove into me with a fierce, claiming thrust that forced my back harder against the wall, ripping a cry from my throat.
Stars exploded behind my eyes as he filled me completely, my head falling back, lips parting in a loud, desperate cry as his hips slammed forward with ruthless power.
“I love your body,” he grunted, “but it’s more than that. It’s the way you fight against it, the way you give in anyway. I can’t breathe without you.”
I bit down on my lip, tasting the familiar coppery flavor of blood, a reminder of how far I had fallen into this wild, intoxicating moment.
“Fuck,” I whimpered, my nails digging into his arms, desperate for something to hold onto.
“Say it again,” he growled, his hips snapping into mine with an urgency that set my entire being on fire. “Say my name when I’m inside you.”
“Roman!” I moaned, not caring that my cries could draw attention from anyone nearby.
“Good girl,” he whispered in my ear, his voice low and sultry, picking up the pace.
My hands clawed at the hard planes of his back, digging my nails into his muscle and skin, urging him on.
His movements were relentless, punishing-each thrust lifting me higher against the wall until I had no choice but to wrap my arms around his neck, clinging to him as if he were my lifeline.
The leg that had been steady beneath me betrayed me, turning to jelly, and he caught it easily, wrapping it around his waist. Now both legs were locked tight around him, pressing me flush against the cold wall.
“I’m not done with you, Savannah. Not even close.”
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.