Page 52 of Marked By Him

I lost track of everything. Time. Place. Etiquette. All of it vanished. There was only this. Chemistry. Need. Fire.

His mouth was on my shoulder. His fingers fucked me without mercy. Hard. Fast. Wet. It was so loud that I should have been embarrassed. But everything about this man made me shameless.

“Oh, fuck, Roman,” I panted. “Shit.” I rocked against his hand, needing more. More friction. More pain. More pleasure. Just…more.

His tongue traced a hot trail up the column of my throat, stopping below my ear. His fingers hooked. “Break for me, Eve.” And then he brought his thumb to my clit. “Soak my fingers in your sweetness.”

That was all it took. His voice and that pressureright fucking there.

I came. Hard and violent. My body quaked and shattered as I cried out his name.

And he waited. With his fingers still inside me, not moving, only filling. With his lips dusting my skin, my shoulders, my neck, the side of my face. He waited for me to come back down.

“How can I not be addicted to breaking you when you fall apart so beautifully?” His voice was hoarse, raw with need.

I turned around as he eased his fingers out of me. His eyes burned with fire like some kind of angry god from Greek mythology.

My breath was shallow as I drank him in.

I reached out, cautiously. Carefully. My hand swiped over his wound. He didn’t flinch.

I looked at the blood on my palm and my mind was transported back there, to the bedroom window. The fire. The chanting. The blood. The lust.

I brought my hand to my chest, smearing his blood over one breast, then the other. “Is this how they do it?” I did it again, stealing the blood from his skin and rubbing it on mine.

He watched me. His eyes were glued to my every movement. His jaw gritted as though he was barely holding onto his restraint.

I swept my hand over my stomach.

“Fuck, I want to devour you. I want to steal every fucking piece of you,” he groaned, then his lips crashed over mine. His fingers were on my jaw, gripping hard.

His other hand grabbed my hip and shoved my body against him. His hard cock pressed firmly on my stomach. His tongue lashed with mine. He tasted and plundered and took. He stole. And I gave. My breath was his. My body was his.Everythingwas his.

I reached between our bodies, my hand coated in blood, and guided him to my entrance. My heart raced and I felt every thick pulse all the way in my core. I was throbbing.For him.

“Take it, Roman. It’s yours.”

“Mine,” he groaned, then pushed inside me. “Mine to taste.” His teeth nipped the curve where my neck met my shoulder. “Mine to fuck.”

But he didn’t just fuck me. He claimed me. He impaled me. As deep as he could go. He split me in two. He marked my soul, branded me as his.

The concrete wall assaulted the wounds that were already on my back. It would hurt like a bitch tomorrow but right now, I welcomed the pain.

His fingertips bruised my hips as he drove deeper into me. His body was slick with sweat when I grabbed his ass. Every muscle rippled as he growled and grunted and rutted into me like he couldn’t get enough.

I couldn’t get enough.

We were consumed by the fire, engulfed in the flames.

He wrapped a hand around my throat. “You have no idea what you’ve done. I won’t stop until I own you.”

He could kill me with his bare hands, and instead of being afraid of that kind of power, I was intoxicated by it.

My nails dug into his skin and he let out a hiss through his teeth. His cock rammed into me. His fingers clenched tighter on my neck. My back arched, pressing my nipples achingly hard against his chest while he fucked me.

“Please.” I had no idea what I was begging for. More of his slick pleasure. Release. Redemption. I just knew Ineeded.

“Please, what?” he growled against my ear. “I made you a promise. I said you’d come on my cock.”

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