Roman
She doesn’t pull away. Not when I tell her what I’ve done, not when I show her the ink cut into my skin, not when I admit the truth about my father and the scars that have been left behind. She just looks at me with those storm-gray eyes, steady and unflinching.
And then she speaks.
“I don’t know how to be what you want,” she whispers.
My jaw tightens. “What does that mean?”
Her fingers twist in the sheets, her voice trembling. “I didn’t have a normal life, Roman. No school, no friends. Tutors came to the house, lessons tailored to make me… accomplished. Piano, languages, etiquette. All for the day my father would marry me off.”
Her throat works as she swallows. “I’ve never had a boyfriend. Never even been kissed properly until you. I was groomed to be a good wife, an accessory. Not a person.”
The words slice through me. That bastard caged her, polished her, prepared her like a jewel to be displayed and bartered.
Rage boils in my veins, but I shove it down, because right now she doesn’t need my fury. She needs me.
I take her chin between my fingers, tilting her face up. “Listen to me, krasivy. I don’t want the daughter he tried to build. I don’t want a perfect little wife trained to smile and obey.”
Her breath catches.
“I want you. The woman in front of me. The one who looks me in the eye even when she’s afraid. The one who came for me with her body when anyone else would have run.” My thumb brushes her bottom lip, swollen from my kisses. “That’s who I want. And I want her naked as often as possible.”
Her cheeks flush, a shiver running down her spine. But her lips curve in the faintest smile, uncertain and shy.
“Just… me?” she asks.
“Only you. Always.”
The hunger that roars up in me is different this time.
Not just feral possession, though that burns hot as ever.
But something softer threaded through it.
I want to destroy her innocence, yes, but I also want to give her back what her father stole: choice.
I’ll just make sure she chooses me and the life I want to give her.
I lower my mouth to hers, kissing her slow and deliberate, savoring the taste of her. She sighs into me, fingers sliding tentatively up my chest.
I ease her back against the pillows, spreading her hair like a dark halo across the sheets. She looks up at me with wide eyes, lips parted, skin flushed, and I nearly lose it.
My hands roam her body, rough palms skimming over soft curves, learning her, mapping her. She gasps when I cup her breast, when I drag my thumb across the tight peak. Her back arches, pressing into me, asking for more without words.
“Beautiful,” I murmur against her throat, nipping, sucking, leaving marks she’ll see tomorrow. “Every inch of you.”
Her legs shift, opening slightly, an invitation that makes my cock leak and my mouth water. I drag my hand down her stomach, hook my fingers in her cotton panties, and tear them aside. She cries out, not in protest but in shock, in heat.
I slide my fingers through her slick folds, groaning when I feel how wet she already is. “For me,” I rasp. “Always for me.”
“Yes,” she gasps, clutching at my shoulders.
I push inside her with my fingers, slow, stretching, preparing her, while my mouth covers hers again.
She moans, hips rocking, chasing the rhythm I set while I lick kisses down her jawbone, her neck, her collarbone, over the perfect peaks of her breasts and down.
Down until my tongue sweeps over the bud of her clit and she jolts against my mouth.
She tastes of both of us. I ravage her with my mouth until she is thrashing on the bed, screaming and panting my name.
I lick up her sweet juices and suck the taste from her delicate lips.
When I can’t stand it any longer, I free myself, the blunt head of my cock pressing against her entrance. I pause, giving her a chance to stop me.
She doesn’t. She tilts her hips instead, guiding me in.
The heat swallows me whole, tight and perfect. I groan into her mouth, my control fraying as I sink deeper. She gasps, eyes squeezing shut, but her arms wrap around my neck, pulling me closer.
I move slowly this time, deliberate thrusts that draw out her cries, that make her body bloom around me. My hand slides into her hair, fisting gently as I take her mouth again, drinking every sound.
Her nails rake my back, her legs locking around my waist, and I know she’s mine in every way.
“You feel that?” I growl against her lips. “That’s me inside you. No one else. Ever.”
She whimpers, nodding, her body quaking beneath mine. “Only you.”
“I’m going to fill you every day until it takes. You hear me?”
“Yes,” she cries out, meeting my punishing pace thrust for thrust.
“And when your big and round with my heir, I’ll fuck another one into you…I’ll breed you so full you won’t remember the life you had before me.”
She whimpers another yes as her hands come up around my neck, clinging on for dear life as I push her closer and closer to the edge. Then she says the words that turn me inside out. “Fuck me, Roman. Ruin me. It’s only you, it will only ever be you.”
Her strangled words are like music to me. I drive deeper, harder, the bed groaning beneath us. Her head tips back, throat exposed, and I bite down, claiming her with teeth and tongue.
Her climax builds fast, her body tightening, trembling, until she shatters around me with a cry of my name. The feel of her pulsing, milking me, drags me over with her.
I bury myself deep, roaring as I spill inside her, my body shaking with the force of it. My forehead drops to hers, sweat mingling, breaths ragged. I don’t pull out. I want her so full of my cum so deep inside her it has no choice but to take.
For a long moment, neither of us moves. Just the sound of our hearts pounding, the heat of our bodies locked together. I pull her with me as I drop to the side and pull her close. My cock, still half hard, resting against her entrance.
I brush a kiss against her temple, softer than I meant. “Mine,” I whisper.
She doesn’t argue.