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His hands on her body, his lips on her skin, his cock filling her to completion.
She reached for the button on his jeans and tugged, breaking the spell of his stare, and he stood to pull them off.
Now she was the one staring. The little bulk he’d lost while recovering was hardly noticeable, a product of his sheer mass. He might be a slightly smaller mountain, but he was still a mountain, biceps still the size of her not-insignificant thighs, his pecs rippling under the gladiator inked onto his chest.
The stitches left from the surgery to remove the bullet tore through the house behind the gladiator — his father’s house — like a jagged lightning bolt. It made him look even more menacing, but instead of dampening her desire, it only made her more turned on and she wondered whether her appetite for violence had been sparked by everything that had happened to her since she’d met Roman or if the predilection had always simmered under the surface of her even exterior.
And then there was his cock. The rest of his body might have paid the price for the bullet that had almost killed him, but his dick was still frighteningly massive, long and wide enough that her pussy tensed with a kind of muscle memory at the thought of it stretching her open.
Not that she was complaining.
She’d been nervous the first time he’d fucked her, but she knew now that her body would accommodate him and that in return she would be given the kind of pleasure she hadn’t known existed before him.
He was already hard as granite, the perfection of his veiny cock jutting from the muscular tree trunks of his thighs.
She wrapped her hand around his shaft and stroked, marveling at the velvety heat in her palm.
He groaned and removed her hand, then returned to his position on the couch, the press of his body on hers the sweetest kind of weight.
Her tits were smashed against his chest, his cock nestled against the inside of her thighs, a promise of what was to come. She thought about the playroom across from his office, the way he’d explained his sexual preferences to her when she’d found the room.
I do have certain… appetites we never had the opportunity to explore.
He’d said it didn’t matter whether she wanted to participate, but now she couldn’t help wondering if he was sacrificing something by denying that part of himself with her.
She stroked his back with her hands. “Do you want to go to your… playroom?”
He stared down at her, his eyes lit like chips of amber in the dim light of the living room, the TV still on and muted. “Do you?”
She thought about the things she’d seen in the room: the glow of the pink bulbs, the giant X with straps at every end, the padded table with lined cuffs, leather floggers and whips, collars and nipple clamps.
… some women find pleasure in being submissive. In giving up control.
Her pussy pulsed with excitement even as her chest tightened with fear. Going to the room meant total surrender. It meant trusting Roman with her body, her safety.
No small ask given her history with Adam, even though Roman and Adam couldn’t have been more different.
“I don’t know,” she finally said. It was the truth, and that was one thing they’d agreed would prevail after she’d discovered who he was.
He dragged his knuckles across her cheekbones. “Then the answer is no.”
“Maybe if I— ”
“No,” he said. “It’s not a maybe. We only play when youknow.”
She bit her lower lip. “I want to please you. I want to give you pleasure.”
He groaned, pressing into her, nudging the thick head of his cock toward her cunt. “Does it feel like you don’t please me, sweetheart?” He lowered his face to her neck and inhaled, like he was an animal catching the scent of his mate, then kissed his way down her throat. “I’m so fucking turned on every second of every day it’s hard to focus on anything but how much I want to fuck you.”
He clamped his mouth onto her throat and sucked and she wriggled under him, gasping as the sensation went straight to her core.
When he stopped sucking, she felt the heat of his tongue against her skin, licking the spot where he’d sucked like he was tending to a wound.
“I can’t get enough of you, Ruby.” He murmured the words against her skin, pressing kisses to her neck, the well at the base of her throat, her chest. “I dream about your skin under my lips, your body in my hands, your sweet pussy clamped around my cock.”
He flicked his tongue against one of her tits, then sucked it into his mouth, and she gasped at the heat enveloping her erect nipple. He pinched her other nipple between his fingers, the dual pleasure of his mouth and hands lighting the fire that smoldered at her center.
She threaded her hands into his silky dark hair and opened her thighs, lifting her hips, more than ready to feel him inside her.
