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“What? Naked?” I gasp.
He chuckles, running his nose up my inner thigh. “Completely at my mercy. It evens the playing field a bit.”
I gasp as he reaches the apex of my thighs, and laves his tongue over my throbbing clit. I try to force myself to think, as shivers travel up my spine. What did he mean, level the playing field. He’s always saying things like that, without explanation.
“Roman, I—”
He licks a long delicate stroke up my center, and I shudder, losing track of what I was saying. I can’t do anything but whimper and writhe as he continues licking me, interspersing his movements with hungry, open-mouthed kisses. Like he really is hungry—starving, for me.
I gasp, digging my fingers into his hair, moving closer and closer to what I need. “Fuck me.”
I feel him smile against me. “You want to come on my cock, good girl?”
“Always.”
He gets to his feet and pulls me down off the counter, flipping me around, and I come face to face with my own, wide eyes in the mirror; my own flushed cheeks. Ohshit.
Roman bends and whispers in my ear, making eye-contact with my reflection. “Watch me fuck you, good girl.”
Oh my gods.
He places one palm on my back, pushing me down slightly as he lines himself up with my entrance. I’m so wet for him, so close to falling apart already, he slides all the way in in a single stroke.
This time I’m mostly expecting it when his hand comes down hard on the globe of my ass as he slides in and out of me in a punishing rhythm. “Fuck you feel so good. I knew you would be fucking perfect wrapped around my cock.”
I arch my back, rocking my entire body, fucking myself on him as he mercilessly pounds into me. “You imagined this?”
“Every fucking day.”
His hand comes up to band around my throat, forcing my face up to watch, his other arm holding me tight to his chest. I moan, and sink my teeth into my bottom lip as the new angle grinds my clit against the edge of the sink. It hurts and simultaneously, confusingly, has me climbing higher and higher toward release.
“Roman,” I pant. “Oh my gods.”
“Come for me, Etta.”
I don’t want to look, but I also can’t look away. My face is pink, my hair a mess, my eyes full of lust and so many other things. I whimper, then nearly cry, my eyes glued on to us as I shake around him, both of us forcing the other further over the edge into blissful oblivion.
* * *
“So. How’d you sleep?”
I finally leave Roman’s room an hour later and find Cat sitting at the kitchen table, while Bennet Montague sits on the counter across from her eating a bowl of cereal.
Bennet.I tell myself.Just Bennet.
It’s strange to realize who you consider a first name/last name person in real time, after spending all night fucking their cousin. Roman, at least, has moved into the just first name category—mostly. Thank the gods he doesn’t have a nickname.
“I slept fine, thank you,” I say primly, coming to stand behind the chair across from Cat. “You?”
She grins. “Not as well as you, judging from the sound of things.”
My entire body clenches, the back of my neck heating. “Do you mind?”
Her grin turns into a laugh. “But seriously, I slept fine. The guest room is nice.”
“Yes, it is. You’re fucking welcome!” A male voice shouts from the other room.
I turn, and realize that there is a third person in the room I hadn’t noticed before. Pierce Avon—first name/last name—is lying on the couch in the living room area of the open concept apartment with a green throw-pillow covering his face. From the disarray of blankets at the foot of the couch, I take it that he slept there.
