"And you're gonna come again." He rolls his hips on the next thrust, grinding deep, and the friction on my clit makes me whimper. "Right?"
"Maybe."
"Not maybe." He does it again, grinding at the bottom of the stroke, and my eyes close and my mouth opens.
"Okay," I breathe. "Yeah… I think…"
"Definitely." He shifts, sliding his hand under the small of my back, lifting my hips, changing the angle. The next thrust hits a spot inside me that makes me moan and grab the sheets.
"There?" he asks.
"There. Don't you dare move."
"That’s my girl." He drives into the same spot over and over while his free hand slides between us and his thumb finds my clit and starts circling. The pressure is devastating.
"How does that feel?" he asks but I can't speak. I'm rocking upward, panting and whimpering, but the ability to form words is gone. "I want to hear you say it."
"Oh, God." My voice breaks. "Ro—oh…"
"Stay with me." His thumb presses harder and his pace picks up. "Talk to me. Tell me what you feel."
"Everything. I feel everything."
"Be specific."
"Roman—"
The pressure builds faster, coiling in my core until every muscle in my body is pulled taut and I can't speak or think or do anything except hold the sheets and pray I don't spontaneously combust.
"So close," I whimper.
"Look at me," he says, and I do, and the rawness in his eyes is what breaks me.
The orgasm tears through me and I scream again, my back arching. The pleasure rips through my muscles, shattering my ability to control myself, and convulsions take over my entire body. I clench around him so hard his rhythm falters, and he grunts before nearly collapsing.
"Fuck—" He drives into me through it, his control gone. His pace is desperate and uneven, and I'm still pulsing around him. Every time I clench, he groans louder and thrusts harder.
Then he buries himself and his whole body goes rigid. I feel him pulse inside me in long hot waves while he groans into the curveof my neck with his mouth open against my skin and his fists twisting the sheets beside my head.
Roman doesn't wait long before he pulls out and rolls onto his back beside me. We're both breathing hard, staring at the ceiling with the sheets tangled around our legs. My body's still humming and my skin is damp and neither of us speaks for a moment.
Just because we have awesome chemistry and our bodies do these incredible things doesn't mean anything has changed. I roll to my side away from him and sigh as the sadness creeps back in. It's not just missing my father. It's this mess I'm in now. I'm in love with a man twice my age, and that man is driven by power and greed. He doesn't know how to love me, and even if he did, he doesn't want to. He wants the empire, not a family.
If I'm being very honest with myself, he deserves someone like Sofi or Sabine, just based on the way he treats me. But I hate that for him. I don't want him to be miserable. I want him to be happy. If having my empire means he's happy, then he should have that too—God knows I don’t want it. Which means Sofi or Sabine would be good for him in that aspect. And who am I to stand in his way? I just don't want to watch it take place.
"I don't want to go to the gala," I tell him softly. I'm hoping if he just understands how it will damage my mental health, he won't make me. He said he cares and that he wants to take care of me. If he truly does, he won't make me go.
"I know you don't," he says and his hand rests on the curve of my hip.
"Then don't make me."
Roman pulls me until I’m lying on my back again, looking up at him. "I told you I'd marry you, Mila. That offer still stands. I don’t have to announce anything about Sofi or Sabine at that gala."
"And I told you no." I'm gonna cry. If he doesn't just shut up, I'm going to break down in tears and tell him everything because my heart is so full of sadness, I can't hold it back much more.
He sighs, and I swear I see sadness in his eyes, but no explanation. No confession of love, no begging me to reconsider. He can't even tell me he wants me there. All he can do is order me around.
I stare at the ceiling for a long time trying to decide what to do. I will never be okay with him thinking that I'd marry him and hand over my inheritance. But it doesn’t matter whether I'm at that gala when he announces which sister he's choosing or not. I'll still end up hearing about it. I suppose it's better to be present and find out firsthand than to hear the rumors and be crushed.
