Page 29 of Possessed By Roman

“You keep looking at me like that,” I whisper, “and I’m going to think you like me.”

His gaze darkens. “I do like you.”

My breath catches. It isn’t everything I want to hear. But it is something. Roman steps closer. His hand settles against my waist. I look up at him and the kiss begins slowly. Then it becomes impossible to think.

He breaks the kiss, glances toward the door, and locks it. “Tell me what you want, Cora. Exact words.”

I swallow hard. “I want you to fuck me.”

The words hang between us, raw and honest. Roman's jaw tightens. His hand slides from my jaw to rest lightly against my throat. No pressure. Just holding. Claiming. The possessiveness in that simple touch makes me wet.

“Turn around.”

I do, my heart hammering against my ribs. He positions me facing the tattoo chair, his hand pressing between my shoulder blades until I'm bent forward, my palms flat against the leather seat. My skirt rides up, exposing my thighs, and I feel the cool air of the room against my heated skin.

Roman's palm slides up the back of my leg, slow and deliberate. He pushes my skirt higher, bunching it around my waist, and I know he can see how wet I am through my underwear.

“Soaked,” he murmurs, and I can hear the satisfaction in his voice. “You've been thinking about this since we left the apartment. Since you woke up this morning with my hand between your legs.”

My face burns at the memory. “Yes.”

“Good girl.” His hand lifts, then comes down against my ass with a controlled smack. The sting makes me gasp.

I cry out, the sound echoing off the walls, and he immediately soothes the heated skin with his palm. He doesn’t stop or wait. Each strike is as unpredictable as the last one. My nails dig into the leather. I'm panting, pushing back into his hand, wanting more even as I burn.

With every spank, the pain transforms and heat pools between my thighs, making me desperate and slick. On the last strike, the scream of his name is muffled into the chair, my body arching. His hands knead the heated flesh, and then his fingers slide beneath the edge of my underwear.

“Please,” I whimper, not even sure what I'm begging for.

His palm smooths over the heated skin of my ass, soothing the sting he left behind. My entire body feels hypersensitive, every slow pass of his hand sending another shiver through me.

“You like that, princess?”

“Yes.” The answer comes without hesitation.

His fingers hook beneath the waistband of my underwear and slowly pull them down, leaving them tangled around my thighs. Cool air hits my heated skin, and I hear Roman’s rough exhale behind me.

His hand returns to my ass, but this time there’s no sharp sting. His fingers trail between my thighs instead, teasing until my knees threaten to buckle.

“Roman…”

“I’ve got you.” One hand settles firmly on my hip, keeping me steady while the other continues exploring. “Tell me if you want something different.”

“I don’t.” I push back against his touch. “Please don’t stop.”

“Good girl.”

“Roman…I'm close…I…”

His hand glides up under my top and finds my aching nipples. He strums and pinches and rolls them until I’m whimpering. Then he slides his finger back to my sex, teasing my clit, my hips bucking against his hand, seeking the friction I need.

“Roman…”

“Keep your legs spread,” he commands, and then his mouth is on me.

He dives in like he's starving, his tongue finding my clit with devastating accuracy, sucking and circling and driving me toward the edge with terrifying speed. I cry out against the chair, my hips bucking against his mouth, and he grips my thighs, holding me in place while he destroys me.

“Roman…p-please…I can't…” I babble incoherently, mindless with need.