Prologue #3
“You’ll do exactly what I say,” I murmur, eyes locked on his.
A flash of something almost daring flickers in his eyes, but he’s too far gone, and that’s clear in the way his voice comes out thick with need.
“Don’t tease me,” he growls, but there’s no edge to his words—only an unspoken plea.
“I’m not teasing,” I respond.
My fingers hook into the waistband of his jeans, pulling them down slowly, teasing him just enough to make him ache.
Roman groans under his breath as I drop to my knees in front of him, my hands gently caressing the sides of his thighs.
He looks down at me, and I can feel the intensity of his gaze, a mixture of appreciation and admiration for the power shift. His hand reaches down, as if he’s going to touch me, but I stop him with a firm grip on his wrist.
“Not yet,” I say authoritatively.
His breath stutters, but he doesn’t fight me. He waits.
I look up at him as I continue to tease, my hands skimming his legs, my lips brushing the inside of his thigh just enough to make him tremble.
“You’re going to wait for me,” I whisper, the words thick with promise.
Roman’s body is taut, his hands clenched into fists by his sides, but he doesn’t move. He lets me take control, lets me have this moment, and the feeling of him trusting me like that sends a rush of power through my veins.
I feel the hardness of him, and I smile, sliding his boxers down, enjoying the way he reacts to every touch, every flick of my fingers. The way his breath quickens, the way his body shudders when I finally take him in my mouth, moving slowly at first, just enough to draw out the anticipation.
I feel his body arch toward me, but I keep my rhythm slow, teasing. His voice, when it finally comes, is rough.
“Sloane,” he gasps, “You’re killing me.”
But he’s not pulling away, not telling me to stop. If anything, he’s desperate for more.
I look up at him, my eyes locking with his as I take him deeper, my movements growing more confident, more powerful.
His moan is almost primal now, and I can see the struggle on his face—the war between his need to take control and his desire to surrender to me. And I know, without a doubt, he’s enjoying every second of it.
When I finally pull back, I hear his frustrated growl, but I’m not done yet. I rise, guiding him to the couch. With one hand, I push my dress up over my hips, slipping my underwear aside without breaking eye contact.
“Get on your back,” I command, and the intensity in his eyes shifts.
His muscles tense, but he obeys without a word, settling down, watching me closely.
I straddle him, my hands tracing the line of his jaw as I lean down to kiss him slowly, teasing him with my lips. His hands are restless at his sides, but I stop him again, grabbing his wrists and pinning them above his head.
“Let me take care of you,” I whisper, as I slowly lower myself onto him, taking my time, savoring every inch of him as he groans beneath me.
Roman’s hands twitch with the desire to touch, but he holds back. His breath is ragged now, and he watches in the most thrilling way possible.
“I want you to enjoy this,” I murmur as I begin to move, my rhythm commanding.
Every shift of my hips, every grind against him makes him groan louder, and I can tell he’s completely at my mercy.
“Oh, Sloane…” He whispers my name like a prayer, his eyes never leaving mine.
I can feel his body tense, his breath quickening as I move with tantalizing slowness, making him ache for more. The tension between us crackles as I ride him, each motion pushing him deeper into me.
Roman’s hands twitch, but I keep them pinned above his head. His blue eyes burn with a fire I haven’t seen before. A mixture of desperation and admiration. I think he’s used to being in charge, but now, he’s relinquishing all that power to me, his body answering every command I give him.
I lean down, my lips brushing against his ear, whispering, “You like this, don’t you? Like being at my mercy?”
Roman’s jaw clenches, but there’s a subtle nod of agreement. “Yeah… just… just don’t stop.”
I smirk, pulling back just enough to see his flushed face.
His hair is a mess, his chest rising and falling erratically, and I know he’s holding back, his own control slipping further with each passing second.
I start to move faster, my hips grinding against him in a rhythm that makes his breath hitch.
His eyes shut for a moment, and I can see the struggle in him. The resistance, the need to take over, but he doesn’t. Not yet. He waits for me to take him where I want him to go.
“You look so good under me,” I murmur, letting my voice drip with the pleasure I’m taking in this moment. “So, fucking beautiful, Roman.”
His breath catches as he meets my gaze again, his hands still straining against mine.
“Sloane… fuck,” he groans, ragged and raw. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”
I raise an eyebrow, teasing him again, slowing my pace just slightly.
“Tell me,” I reply, “how does it feel?”
Roman’s eyes flicker with frustration, and for the briefest moment, I can see the vulnerability he’s trying so hard to hide. But it’s there, buried beneath the layers of his charm, his bravado.
“Unbelievable,” he finally breathes out. “It feels fucking unreal, Sloane. But you—”
His words cut off as I increase my pace.
His hips buck upward, but I don’t let him take control. Not when I can feel the power surging through me with every thrust.
Roman’s eyes burn with an almost painful need, his chest heaving, and I can see him struggling to hold back, but it’s clear he’s not fighting me anymore. He’s with me. Completely. He wants this. He needs this.
“Sloane…” he whispers again, strained, but this time, there’s a tone of submission in it that has my pulse racing. “I can’t… you’re killing me.”
I smile, pulling my hips back slowly, watching the frustration and raw desire on his face as I tease him just a little longer.
Roman’s breath quickens, and he cracks when he speaks again, more desperate than ever. “Please… don’t stop. I need you… now.”
That’s all it takes. The pleading, the desperate need. My control over him is complete. I lean in, capturing his lips in a kiss that’s raw and hungry.
In that moment, I release him. His hands immediately move, his grip on my waist pulling me down onto him harder, faster. And I let him.
He’s no longer fighting, no longer trying to keep the reins of control. His hands roam freely now, desperately needing to touch, to hold, to anchor himself to this reality where he’s not in charge.
It’s a beautiful, chaotic surrender.
The world narrows, everything but the heat between us fading into the background as our bodies move together. There’s nothing else. Just us, just the way we fit, the way he’s finally letting go, trusting me with every part of him.
I feel him tense beneath me again, and this time, I can sense he’s getting closer.
Roman groans, his entire body tightening, and then, with a final, strangled moan, he’s lost in the pleasure I’ve carefully orchestrated. His grip on me falters, his body surrendering completely as he finds his release.
I don’t stop. I ride out his climax with a slow, steady rhythm, savoring the moment, watching him come undone beneath me.
Finally, I collapse against him, both of us breathing heavily, sweat clinging to our skin.
Roman’s chest rises and falls, his body still twitching slightly from the aftershocks. He looks up at me, his expression a mixture of awe and satisfaction.
I know this is just one night. I know I’ll likely never see this man again, but in a way, I kind of hope he remembers this, because I know I sure will.