Page 353 of Romeo

This was something I wanted to do.

That distinction mattered more than I could explain.

I leaned forward and pressed my lips to him experimentally, tasting salt and skin. His hips shifted slightly, an unconscious movement, and I felt emboldened by the response. I opened my mouth and took him inside, adjusting to the unfamiliar sensation of him filling that space.

The taste of him flooded my senses—clean and masculine and uniquely Jasper. I took him deeper, my tongue exploring cautiously, learning the texture and shape of him. He was fully hard now, and I had to adjust my angle to accommodate his size.

Above me, I heard his breathing change. No longer the deep, even rhythm of sleep but something faster, more ragged.

I hollowed my cheeks the way he had shown me before and sucked gently, taking him as deep as I could manage before pulling back slowly. My hand wrapped around the base where I couldn’t reach, and I established a slow, deliberate rhythm, paying attention to what made his body tense.

His hand suddenly found my head beneath the covers, his fingers threading into my hair. Not pulling, not guiding, just holding on like he needed the anchor.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Fiona.”

The roughness in his voice sent a thrill through me knowing I had done that—reduced him to cursing before he was fully awake. The power in that knowledge was intoxicating in a way I hadn’t expected.

I didn’t stop. Instead, I increased my pace slightly, taking him deeper, my tongue moving along his length. I could feel him growing even harder in my mouth, could taste something slightly bitter at the tip, and the evidence of his arousal made heat pool between my legs.

The half groan, half curse sound he made had me smiling around him.

His fingers tightened in my hair, and I could feel the tension coiling through his body. His thighs tensed beneath my free hand, his breathing became harsh and uneven, and I realized with some surprise that I loved this. Loved knowing that I could make this dangerous, controlled man fall apart with nothing but my mouth and hands.

I pulled back until just the tip remained between my lips, then took him deep again while my hand stroked what I couldn’t fit. His grip on my hair became almost painful, and I could hear him trying to form words above me.

“Ma Belle,” he managed, his voice wrecked. “Fuck, Fi—what are you⁠—”

I took him deeper, cutting off whatever he’d been about to say, and his head fell back against the pillow with a sound that made satisfaction bloom in my chest.

I could feel my own body responding as I worked him, warmth and wetness building between my legs. There was something deeply intimate about what I was doing. About being the one in control, watching him lose his composure, knowing that I was the cause of every sound he made.

His body tensed further, and I knew he was close. I could feel it in the way his breathing became ragged, in the way his hand tightened desperately in my hair, in the way his hips lifted slightly off the bed.

“Fiona,” he warned, his voice strained. “Baby, I’m gonna⁠—”

I didn’t pull away. I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect, but I wanted to see this through. I increased my pace, taking him as deep as I could, and felt him shatter.

He came with a curse that would have made me blush under other circumstances, and I swallowed reflexively, the taste flooding my mouth—salty and bitter. I kept moving until he finally stilled, then released him gently and pressed one last kiss to his hip before crawling back up beside him.

“That,” he said, staring down at me, “was a fuckin’ dirty trick.”

I traced one finger along his jaw, trying to ignore the heat climbing into my face. “You seemed to survive.”

“Barely.”

“You’re dramatic.”

“I woke up to my wife tryin’ to kill me.”

“With affection?”

His mouth twitched. “That ain’t what I’d call what you were doin’.”

The heat in my face intensified despite everything we had already done together, which only made his grin widen. Jasper apparently found my ability to become embarrassed after initiating something endlessly entertaining.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I muttered.

“Like what?”