“I was not expecting this.”
“You wanted to touch me.”
“Yes, but?—”
His mouth presses to the inside of my thigh.
The argument dies.
Then his tongue touches me again, and I nearly collapse forward over him. My mouth finds his cock at the same time, and the position turns everything messy and intimate and overwhelming. His hands grip my hips, holding me over his mouth while I take him with mine. The first stroke of his tongue makes me moan around him, and he answers with a sound that vibrates through my whole body.
I lose track of where I end and he begins. My mouth on him, his mouth on me, my hips trembling above his face, his cock sliding over my tongue, his hands keeping me steady as pleasure gathers again even though I thought I had nothing left.
When I falter, he slows.
When I recover, he ruins me again.
The third time I start to come, he pulls me off him and flips me onto my back so quickly I gasp.
“No more,” he says, voice rough.
I blink up at him, dazed. “No more?”
“I need to be inside you.”
The words go straight through me.
“Yes,” I whisper.
He settles between my thighs, but he does not enter me yet. His cock slides through my wetness once, twice, dragging over my clit, making me shiver. I grip his shoulders, nails digging in.
“Roman, please.”
He looks down at me.
There’s a darkness in his face now that should scare me. Maybe it does. Maybe that’s part of why I open wider for him.
“You’re sure?” he asks.
I’m not drunk. I’m not heartbroken enough to mistake desire for escape. I’m not obeying anyone.
For once, I know exactly what I’m choosing. “I’m sure.”
He pushes into me. Slowly. Deeply.
I feel every inch of him stretch me open, and my breath breaks into a sound I don’t recognize. He stops halfway, forehead dropping to mine, jaw clenched so hard I can see the muscle jumping.
“You feel too good,” he says.
I wrap my legs around him. “Then don’t stop.”
His control snaps.
Roman thrusts the rest of the way in, and I cry out, clutching him as he fills me completely. He gives me a moment, only one, then begins to move.
This is different from the plane.
There is no cramped space, no fear of being heard, no need to swallow every sound. His bed is huge beneath us, the sheetscool against my overheated skin, the city glowing beyond the windows while he fucks me like he has been holding himself back all day and now intends to make up for every second.
