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My stomach swoops and I laugh as he picks me up easily, and my legs twine around his waist. “Roman, people will hear us. Put me down.”
“Fear of sex is for other religions, good girl. We’re at a temple and our gods want me to make you come. They get off on it. Worshiping you is my devotion to them.”
Oh my gods.
“Anyway,” he adds as he carries me across the room and seats us on the old-fashioned upholstered sofa on the far side of the room. “They’re about to do a lot more than hear us.”
He’s not wrong about that.
“Nervous?” Roman asks.
“About what?”
The couch he carried me to is one of those wooden framed antique types, with carvings on the back and arms, and fancy upholstery. It creaks slightly as I shift around, my knees ending up on either side of Roman’s thighs, my hands on his shoulders.
His eyes dance with laughter. “Thewedding, good girl.”
He runs a hand up the inside of my thigh as he says it, and the meaning feels like a double-edged sword. Like what he’s really asking—really saying—is that maybe I should be a little nervous about other things too. My entire body shivers with anticipation.
I focus on his dark eyes and try not to think about his delicate, teasing fingers as I answer his question. “Yes and no, I suppose.”
His wicked gaze falls on my lips. “What does that mean?”
“It means—” I break off on a gasp as Roman finds the tie to my robe and tugs it open letting the fabric fall wide. I swallow and try again. “It means I’m nervous about the ceremony and not much else. Nothing else will be different.”
Roman leans forward, his lips grazing my exposed breast as he asks. “Not enough practice for you?”
There might never be enough practice for the ceremony we’re about to perform, but I’m not about to discourage him from trying. I shrug. “I guess not.”
“Let me tell you a story,” he says.
My brow furrows. “Now?”
Gods. The anticipation alone has me so wet I’m surprised he can’t see it already.
His fingers finally find my folds and trace over me in delicate, barely there touches. “You’ll like it I promise.”
“F-fine.”
“Once upon a time,” he starts, even as he slides the tip of one long finger along my entrance. “There was this girl in a white, princess dress.”
Confusion fills me, and I dig my nails into his shoulders, looking down to where he’s clearly hard under his robe. I swear he’s fucking with me.
“And she went to a party, her engagement party actually, and even though she looked like a good girl, she snuck upstairs with—”
“If you say prince, I will leave,” I tease as understanding floods me.
“No, I would never,” he says with mock horror. “She snuck upstairs with the villainous warlock.”
My hips roll as he grinds the heel of his hand against my clit. I groan, somewhere between a moan of pleasure and a sigh of exasperation. “And then what?”
“And then…” He takes his hand away and finally, finally pulls me down, impaling me on his thick cock. “…The good girl went back to her room and took off her pretty white dress, and she laid in the dark and rubbed her pretty little clit.”
I freeze around him, ice filling my veins. “What?”
Roman looks me straight in the eye as he sucks his fingers into his mouth then reaches between us to rub my clit. “She rubbed her pussy and fucked herself until she came screaming the villainous warlocks name for anyone to hear.”
I don’t move, but a spark of pleasure shoots through me and I moan. I’m so full of him, and my muscles feel so incredibly stretched. My mouth falls open. “Oh my gods.”
