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My whole body feels like it’s lifting out of itself. Pleasure crashes over me violently. I throw my head back, jerking against him as I come hard, incoherent words spilling from my lips.

I’m still breathing hard, trembling, when I slowly come down. When I open my eyes, he’s watching me with a wicked smirk.

“You look so fucking beautiful when you come. I can't wait to see more.”

Before I can process it, he stands, effortlessly lifting me with him. He carries me out of the main cabin and into the private bedroom at the back of the jet.

By the time we reach the bedroom, my body is still trembling from the orgasm he just wrung out of me in the main cabin. My mind, however, is suddenly clear.

I want him.

The realization hits me hard as he lowers me down onto my feet. I’m craving him, the heat of his body, the roughness of his hands, the way he looks at me like he wants to devour me whole. And that scares me more than anything else.

What is wrong with me?

This is the same man who stole me from my sister, who drove Luca out of the city, who forced me into this marriage. I should hate him. I should be terrified of him, not yearning for him to have sex with me. But my body doesn’t care about any of that. Instead, it’s aching for more.

I should put a stop to it now. But...we’re married. there is no waking up tomorrow and finding myself back in Rome. Whether I like it or not, he’s my husband, and it’s expected of me to have sex with my husband. There’s no escaping it. Fighting my own feelings won't change anything. I might as well just stop fighting and maybe give in to this hunger without feeling guilty.

I lift my eyes. Roman hasn't moved. He's watching me with an unreadable expression. “You good?”

I could still tell him no. He wouldn't force me. For some reason, I know that now. The realization settles something deep inside me. So I slowly nod.

“On the bed and take off your panties,” he orders, voice low and rough. “Now.”

I obey, heart hammering. He starts unbuttoning his own shirt, his eyes never leaving mine. When he pushes down his trousers and briefs, his cock springs free, thick, hard, and veiny.

Maintaining eye contact, he climbs over me, claiming my mouth in a deep, demanding kiss as he settles between my thighs. The head of his cock presses against my entrance, and I immediately tense.

“Relax and take me,” he growls against my lips.

“It’s big,” I moan against his lips.

“Good. And you’re going to take it like a good girl.”

Just as he starts to push inside, the plane suddenly jolts hard. Turbulence rocks the cabin. I gasp and instinctively clutch at his shoulders, my nails digging into his skin. The sudden movement drives him deeper than he intended, stretching me with a sharp, burning pressure, and I let out a sharp cry.

“Fuck—” he hisses, freezing for a second. Then his eyes lock on mine, dark and intense. “Hold on to me.”

Another violent shake of the plane forces me to wrap my arms and legs around him tightly, clinging to him as he starts to move, deep, powerful thrusts that claim every inch of me. The turbulence makes every stroke feel sharper, more intense. I can’t escape the sensation. I can’t escape him.

“I can't Roman, please!” I cry out, tears blurring my vision as his name breaks against his chest.

Pain quickly melts into something hotter, deeper. I tighten around him, and he groans against my neck, driving into me harder. The fear of the turbulence and the overwhelming pleasure of being filled by him twist together until I can’t tell them apart.

“That’s it,” he rasps, one hand gripping my hip, the other bracing against the headboard. “Take every inch of your husband’s cock. You’re mine now.”

I come hard with a broken cry, my body locking around him as the plane gives another violent shudder. The intensity of it, the pleasure, the helplessness, the way I have nothing to hold on to except him, shatters something inside me.

Roman follows moments later with a deep, guttural groan, burying himself to the hilt and spilling inside me as the turbulence finally begins to settle.

For a long moment, neither of us moves. I’m still clinging to him, breathless, my face pressed against his neck, trying to catch my breath.

He slowly pulls out, then gathers me against his chest, one large hand stroking my back. His voice is quieter now, but still firm.

“You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

I don’t answer. I just close my eyes and let myself stay there, tangled up in him. Something has shifted, and I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to go back.