I lick her again, slower this time, then circle her clit with my tongue until she starts shaking properly.
“Roman—”
I suck her clit into my mouth.
Her hand slams into my hair.
Good.
I want her rough with me. I want her desperate enough to forget every rule she learned in this house.
I keep her open and eat her like I have been owed this since the corridor, since the piano, since the lunch where she sat across from me pretending all this heat was disgust.
She’s so wet it’s almost obscene. My tongue slides through her folds again and again, and every time I touch that tight little bundle of nerves at the top, her hips jerk helplessly.
“God,” she gasps. “Oh my God.”
I glance up once.
She’s looking down at me with that expression women get right before pleasure takes their pride apart. Shocked by it. Ruined by it. Beautiful.
I slide two fingers into her.
She cries out harder this time, thighs shaking, one heel hooking against the piano bench to keep from slipping. I pump my fingers slowly, watching her face, then curl them just enough to find the spot that makes her whole body seize.
There.
I keep pressing there while my mouth works her clit.
She falls apart almost immediately.
Her orgasm hits fast and hard, her back arching, mouth open, hands in my hair as if she doesn’t know whether to hold me there or drag me away. I hold her exactly where I want her and make her ride it out on my tongue until she’s whimpering and trying to close her legs.
I let up only enough to breathe.
She looks wrecked. Perfectly wrecked.
I stand, wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, and kiss her before she can come back to herself. She tastes herself on me and moans into my mouth, and that’s enough to make my cock strain painfully against my trousers.
I push her sweater up over her waist.
She helps this time, impatient now, arms lifting, fingers fumbling at the hem as if she wants less distance between us and doesn’t care how she gets it. I get the fabric above her breasts, then drag her bra cups down until both breasts spill free into my hands.
Christ.My mouth drops to one nipple immediately.
She gasps and clutches at my shoulders as I suck her deep, my tongue flattening over the tight peak before I bite down just enough to make her hips jump. My hand closes around the other breast, heavy and soft and full enough to make me groan against her skin.
“Roman,” she says again, voice ruined now, all warning gone.
I switch sides and do it again, sucking hard, licking, using my teeth just enough to keep her on edge.
She’s panting by the time I lift my head.
Her sweater is bunched under her arms. Her skirt is around her hips. She’s spread on the piano with her thighs open and her nipples wet from my mouth.
And she’s still looking at me like she wants more.
Which is good, because I’m nowhere near done.
