Chapter 22
KATIE
The heat of him sinks straight into me—like my body’s been cold for days and he’s the only thing capable of thawing it—and my core contracts, my folds becoming slick.
He’s grieving.
He’s grieving.
He’s grieving.
Maybe if I repeat it enough, it will make my body stop overreacting. I keep my fingers moving through his hair in slow, steady strokes, trying to look calm, but there’s nothing I can do about my pounding heart. The damn thing’s practically broadcasting my arousal.
His ear is pressed right to my chest, so there’s no doubt he’s hearing everything.
I swallow, trying to ignore the wetness spreading between my thighs, the painfully hard peaks of my nipples, and the tingles shooting up my spine from where his broad, roughened palm is rubbing circles at the base.
He knows exactly what he’s doing. I’m putty in his hands.
My mind’s a mess—grief curling in my gut for Afrim’s unexpected death, yet my body is reacting like it’s starving for him. Shame coils in my belly, mixing with my lust.
He’s not trying to turn me on; he’s only trying to soothe himself.
He just lost his father, damn it.
What the hell is wrong with me?
His hands shift on my waist… then drop lower, grabbing a fistful of my ass and squeezing hard.
I jolt, breath catching in my throat as even more wetness gushes out of me.
A soft, needy moan escapes before I can stop it, and my hips jerk towards him involuntarily, completely betraying me. His grip on me tightens instantly.
“Do you want me?” he rasps, his lips brushing the curve of my breast as he speaks, his warm breath teasing my skin. His voice is low and hoarse, and it tugs right between my legs.
“You know I do,” I breathe, my voice trembling despite my best effort to steady it.
His tongue licks a slow line along the curve of my breast, the rough, wet heat against my skin sending a shiver all the way to my toes, almost buckling my knees.
Then he turns his head and draws more of me into his mouth.
I gasp, my back arching towards him as he bites down softly—just enough to make my nerve endings jump—before releasing me and trailing lower, his breath maddening as he moves closer to my stiff nipples.
When his mouth finally closes over my nipple, everything in me snaps tight. He rolls his tongue around it, then sucks slow and deep, pulling a raw groan straight out of my chest. My hands fist in his hair on instinct, tugging him closer because I need more—God, I need all of him.
One wide, hot palm splays across my lower back, holding me firmly in place as I writhe against him. He takes another hard pull that tugs directly on my clit, and my cunt clenches so sharply my head tips back, a low moan breaking free as I press my thighs together for just a little more pressure.
His hands shift again, guiding me down with gentle insistence until I sink into his lap, straddling him. Another sound slips from my throat as my fingers trail to the nape of his neck, drawn there by the thick, unyielding length of him pushing up against me through his clothes.
My whole body tightens when that blunt pressure rubs against me, and I bite my lip hard, stifling the groan building in my chest.
Without thinking, I clutch him tighter, using the hold to steady myself as I grind against his cock.
I need him. I hate that I need him this badly, but it’s like every nerve ending I have is tuned to him right now, amplifying every sensation.
He’s not even inside me yet and I already feel like one more push will send me over the edge.
Every little movement of my hips sends sparks shooting through me, and I rock forward and backwards, desperate to feel more, desperate to feel it all. Who knew dry humping could be this hot? It should be illegal!
His eyes darken as he watches me move over him, his chest rumbling with a groan.
Then he flips me—quick, fierce—laying me out on his bed, his gaze devouring me like I’m the only thing that can sate his hunger.
His mouth is on me before I can catch a breath.
He kisses my quivering belly, tongues my navel, then drifts lower, skimming over my throbbing clit to the tender skin along the crease of my hips, my inner thighs.
I moan in frustration, my legs parting for him and lifting towards him needily until finally, finally, his tongue slides through my folds in one slow, claiming stroke.
I cry out, the back of my head pressing into the mattress as I arch up into his hungry mouth, thighs shaking uncontrollably. Roan grips my hips and pulls me closer, and I have to fist the sheets just to keep myself steady as he sets into me.
There’s nothing gentle about it or him. Nothing restrained. He devours me like it’s the only thing keeping him from drowning in his grief, his tongue working me relentlessly, lips sealing around my clit, fingers digging into my ass to hold me in place while the rest of the world blurs out.
The orgasm hurtles through me fast and hard, a freight train of pure sensation, and I scream his name so loudly my throat burns, my body bucking off the bed. He doesn’t stop, though. He keeps sucking my clit, keeps pushing me higher.
Then he thrusts his fingers into my clenching hole just as his other hand releases my hip to apply deep pressure on my belly, right above my pelvis. My mouth opens in a soundless scream as lightning rips through me, my body convulsing so violently I jolt his fingers free.
“Fucking hell,” he growls, thrusting his finger back into me without missing a beat, and I moan low and broken, my eyes rolling back, nails digging into the sheets.
When he finally pulls away, I know I’m ruined for other men.
My thighs are slick with my arousal, my skin burning from the inside out, and my chest heaves as I drag breaths in through my lungs like I’ve just run a marathon.
It’s never been like this before. And we haven’t even fucked, the truly mind-blowing part.
Before panic can bloom at that terrifying truth, he flips me over again—this time onto my hands and knees—moving my body around effortlessly like I weigh nothing.
Firm fingers hook under my hips, raising them high, and the heat in his gaze settles over me like a physical touch, making me shudder.
Then he steps back, and I whine in protest, arching instinctively towards him, but he’s gone.
Clothes rustle somewhere behind me, and my heart pounds faster, a drumbeat of anticipation. Then his heat closes in again, the thick, hot length of his cock brushing my soaked center, making me jolt in surprise.
He drags himself through my wet folds, up and down, up and down, his broad head nudging at my opening with every downward stroke but never pushing in. Teasing, rubbing, driving me insane.
Sweat slicks down my spine, drool pooling in my mouth as I push my hips back, chasing him.
When I glance over my shoulder, the sight nearly knocks the breath out of me.
His hair hangs in red, riotous curls over his face, his pupils blown wide, eyes fixated on my cunt, chest heaving with heavy breathes as he teases us both.
Every shift makes the muscles in his arms ripple, the dark ink on his right hand seeming to coil with the movement.
He looks like a conquering Viking. And God, it’s so hot. He’s so fucking hot.
He grabs my hips, holding me still. “You should see yourself, Katina. Dripping wet and desperate for me. Are you going to deny you’re mine now?
” His voice is deep and guttural, the sound washing over me as he keeps that torturous dragging motion of his cock going—circling my swollen clit before sliding back down to tease my entrance again.
It feels so good.
My head drops forward as a low, helpless sound leaves me, my hips rocking back in search of him.
I need him inside me. Need him the way lungs need air.
“Please,” I whimper, hating how much truth sits in that one word.
But I feel like I’ll go crazy if he doesn’t fuck me like we both want, right here and now.
“Whose are you, Katina?” he demands, rolling his cock over my clit before tapping my hole with the blunt head.
“Yoursss,” I moan, dragging the word out. “I’m yours, Roan. Yours, yours, yours, yo—agh!” The last syllable breaks into a scream as he slams into me in one deep, punishing thrust.
“Jesus fuck. Katina,” he groans, tightening his grip on my hips almost painfully as his cock fills me completely, stretching me until I feel every thick inch of him.
My hips shove back instinctively, chasing the burn, chasing him—needing more. And he doesn’t disappoint. He gives it. All of it.
He drives into me hard, hands gripping my hips, pulling me back into him over and over until I can’t think.
Can't breathe. It’s all heat and sweat, the slap of skin on skin and the broken moans I can’t hold in anymore.
I’m gone. Lost. There’s nothing left but the way he feels inside me, the way he makes me feel like I’ll never be satisfied unless it’s him doing this to me.
Like I’ll never want another man but him again.
He made me say it… but at this moment, I know without a shadow of a doubt that it’s true. I am his.
Every hard thrust, every grunt of his, systematically erases all traces of the men I’ve been with before him. He pounds into me like he knows that’s what he’s doing and is trying to stake his claim.
His right hand releases my hip, sending a shockwave of anticipation through me as he walks it to the front of my body. He presses down on my lower belly, just like he did earlier, until I swear I can feel his hard cock from the inside.
“Fuckkkk.” Fuck, fuck, fuck. My arms give out beneath me, and I collapse face-first onto the mattress. But he refuses to let me go, using the hand on my belly to yank the lower half of my body up, arching me into a more vulnerable position, as he keeps driving into me without losing rhythm.
Then he shifts his hands so his fingers are digging into my lower belly while the heel of his palm grinds against my clit, pushing me past the point of no return.
The sheets muffle my screams and the incoherent words that spill from my mouth as pleasure tears through me. I writhe and convulse beneath him, my body moving with a mind of its own.
At some point, he has to lock his grip around my waist to hold me still because I’m clenching around him so hard, crying out his name like it’s the last thing tethering me to earth.
Then his cock jerks inside me—once, twice—and he lets out this raw, guttural growl as he shoves himself deep and stays there, filling me with a hot rush so intense it makes me see stars and hear symphonies.
Afterwards, he collapses over my back, pinning me to the mattress with his full weight. Then he rolls off, turning us both to our sides and pulling me tight against his chest in a rough, breathless spoon, our skin slick and cooling as we try to catch what’s left of our breath.
He doesn’t say a word. Just breathes against the back of my neck, arms banded around me like he’s afraid I’ll vanish if he loosens them. I’m still shaking—partly from the aftereffects of that tsunami of an orgasm, but mostly from something else… fear.
Fuck, we’ve crossed a line we shouldn’t have, creating a huge mess. He came inside me—I can feel the thick warmth of it between my thighs. I should tell him I’m not on anything. Should whisper the truth into the quiet so he’s aware of the potential consequences. But I don’t.
And that’s not even the worst thing.
The worst thing is that I—lowkey, I want to do nothing about it and get pregnant for him. That way, the decision will be out of my hands. I couldn’t betray the father of my child, could I?
I squeeze my thighs together, inhaling deeply and holding my breath like that will somehow magically help his sperm reach its destination and set the whole chain reaction in motion.
I’m so fucked.
I shove the deranged thoughts out of my head and close my eyes, welcoming the darkness. I can’t do that. Getting pregnant right now would be a disaster for all of us. Me, Roan, Kayla, and the baby.
I let out a long breath, settling deeper into Roan’s arms, soaking up his warmth, his hold, the way he fits around me so sweetly. Letting him lull me towards sleep before I can think too hard.
I’ll handle everything in the morning. I’ll take the morning-after pill. It will be fine.
For now, I just want to stay in this twisted, perfect moment—wrapped in his heat, drowning in something that feels dangerously close to what I imagine falling in love might feel like.