Page 40 of Heartbreaker

“But I don’t really want to talk about packing right now,” he rumbles, sending a shiver through me. I take in a tiny gasp as he slips his fingers beneath the waistband of my shorts. “What I really want is to see if you’re as wet as I think you are.” The tips of his fingers slide down, and I hold my breath. He pauses before going further, and his heavy breaths coast the back of my neck. “Can I touch your pussy, Lana?”

He says the words with such uncharacteristic politeness, as if it wasn’t clear just how desperate I am to feel his calloused fingers dip lower. I would probably laugh, but it seems all my snarky behavior has left the building.

“Yes,” I sigh instead, and before I can say anything else, I’m rewarded for my honesty when his hand slides down, fingers cupping my pussy. He groans, low and deep, and fills the room with the erotic sound.

“No underwear?”

“I don’t like them,” I whisper. His breath coats over my neck as my hips arch into his touch, his middle finger pressing along my seam.

“Just like I thought. Fucking soaked.” My body goes limp, his arm holding me in place, and the other moving to cup my breast. One finger slides over my center, brushing up and over my clit and pulling a needy sigh from me.

“Roman,” I whine.

“Fuck. You don’t know how long I’ve been dying to hear you say my name like that, needy and desperate.” I want to argue, to tell him I’m not desperate. It would be a lie, of course, but I can’t seem to find the words, not when he’s sliding a finger inside of me. My mind goes completely and totally blank, unable to think about anything at all other than how amazing it feels. “So fucking tight,” he groans, sliding his free hand up to cup my breast again and hold me tight against him. “Lips, baby.”

Without a thought, I turn my head, and his lips are on mine. Then he kisses me, deep and slow like we have an eternity to stand like this, one finger slowing fucking me.

It builds in me, slower and softer and heavier than in the arena, his back to my chest, his arms holding me in my place, his palm pressing against my clit every time his finger slides out and in. I shift, spreading my legs further. He groans appreciatively into the kiss, sucking on my tongue as he adds a second finger, and swallowing my low moan. When my breathing becomes too heavy, his lips move to my neck, nipping and sucking along the expanse of skin there. His fingers roll my nipple beneath the thin bralette I’m wearing, and I tighten around his fingers.

“The first time, you’re going to come just like this, Lana,” he groans, and I can feel his hard cock on my back, insistent and as needy as I am.

“F-f-first?” I ask, stuttering through another wave of pleasure, building to something fierce and overwhelming.

“Oh, heartbreaker,” he says with a laugh that I feel along my back. “You don’t think you’re just going to come just once, do you?” I don’t speak because, in my experience, that answer is, in fact, yes. Once is more than enough with most men, if you’re lucky. “Oh, no, baby. You’re going to be moaning my name all fucking night.”

That’s what it does.

Or maybe it’s the way his voice rumbles in my ear, his hips pushing forward, and his fingers sinking deeper as I tighten around them, a promise of what’s to come.

Or maybe it’s just Rome, the way he’s holding me and the way he seems to surprise me at every turn that has me coming hard and fast and unexpectedly. My legs go weak, but Rome holds me through it, muttering words I can barely understand, but that sends that pleasure spiraling higher all the same.

Gorgeous. Hot. Stunning.

Once I slowly come down, he slides his fingers out and up, getting the skin along my belly wet as he does. His hand leaves my breast and starts to tug at my shorts while the fingers that were inside me lift, stopping before my mouth.

“Clean these, Lana,” he says. While I love his babys and heartbreakers, I might like Lana most of all, especially when his eyes are locked on mine in the mirror, burning with need and desire. Especially when it’s said gruffly and filled with his own uncontrolled desire.

I do what he asks, holding his gaze as I run my tongue over his fingers, sucking them like I’m sucking his dick while helping to get my shorts down. When he’s satisfied I’ve done my job, he turns me, then steps back. “Bra next,” he says, crossing his arms to yank his tee off.

But I don’t move because I finally get to see Rome in all his glory, able to take him in with my eyes and my—what glory it is. It seems all those hours in the gym are worth it, if the six-pack and toned pecs are anything to go by. I, of course, knew his arms were drool-worthy, but fuck, the entire package is something else. His tan skin glows, and I want to run my tongue over the happy trail that gets thicker as it disappears into his boxer briefs. He slides his shorts down, leaving him in the tight underwear, and my god, it’s clear his cock is just as perfect as the rest of him.

“Bra, Lana,” he says, but his cocky smile tells me he knows exactly why I got distracted.

“I’m enjoying the view,” I say, leaning my hands back into the desk behind me. His grin widens before he slides his boxers down, and I bite back a groan when his hard, thick cock bobs free. I can’t even fake being unaffected when he wraps his hand around himself and tugs. My jaw drops just a bit, a shaky breath leaving my lips as I watch.

“Bra off, Lana,” he repeats, this time less playful and more of a command. I obey, pulling my thin bra off, but in the moments I can’t see, he has closed the gap between us. With his hands on my waist, he moves me over and backward until my back is pressed to a wall.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he groans, one hand sliding up to cup my breast and roll the sensitive nipple. I may have already come, but something tells me that was nothing compared to the pleasure I have in store for me. Before I can say anything else, he bends, putting his rough hands to the sensitive skin at my waist and lifting me. On instinct, my legs wrap around him as he kisses me.

It’s hot and wet and filled with need, any of the control he had earlier long gone as his tongue tastes mine, teeth nipping and breaths panting. I’m mostly caught up in the feel of his body pushed against mine, the way his cock rests along my center, his fingers digging into my hips. On instinct, I shift, feeling how my wetness helps him glide effortlessly below me, and a soft moan leaves my lips at the feel. He’s hard and thick and long, and all I want is him inside me.

With a low groan, he begins to move, sliding me over his cock, and I’m confident I could come just like his, his thickness between my folds, my swollen clit bumping against the head with each glide, his heavy breaths in my ear.

“I need you so bad,” I whine, helping to rock my hips. I’m so wet that there’s no resistance at all, and his low groaning doesn’t help the situation.

“I have to get a condom,” he says into my neck, his hips still thrusting. One shift, and he would be deep inside of me, something I’m desperate for. I breathe out but shake my head.

“I’m on the pill. I got my annual before I came here; all was clear.”