Chapter 29 #2
I quivered, aching, desperate.
“Roman,” I breathed, my voice breaking with need. Panting. Pleading.
A wicked smirk curled his lips. His eyes darkened, full of heat and intent.
“Patience, amore,” he murmured, dragging his fingers along the slick, needy folds between my legs. “I’m going to make you fall apart—inch by inch.”
A shudder racked through me, wild tremors overtaking my body as his fingers traced the slick, swollen heat of me.
My head fell back, my lips parting on a moan, my entire body quivering beneath his touch.
Then, he lifted my gown and lowered his head between my thighs.
The moment his breath met my aching core, I nearly sobbed.
I was panting, on fire with desire, my body already spiraling toward oblivion. I reclined against the vanity, the hardwood biting into my back, my elbows braced against the surface, my head lolling against the mirror.
Roman pressed his palms to my thighs, urging me wider, exposing me completely.
Then, he took a deep inhale.
“You smell like heaven, amore,” he groaned, his voice thick, ravenous. “You’re my feast. My addiction. My daily fucking worship.”
Then, his tongue.
The first flick against my clit was torture.
A tease. A promise. A punishment.
I gasped, my body seizing, my breath vanishing, but he didn’t move.
He just held his tongue there, motionless, taunting me, letting my own body betray me.
I melted.
A swirl of liquid heat.
A desperate, aching, soaked mess beneath his mouth.
Then, he moved.
Up. Down. Slow. Deliberate.
Slick, wet perfection.
Slow. Teasing. Unbearable.
“Holy fuck,” I whispered, my voice barely there, my fingers digging into the vanity.
Pleasure rippled through me, spreading like fire, scorching every nerve, every cell. My body arched, rolling against his face, grinding for more.
He was merciless.
His mouth, his tongue, his wicked, wicked tongue—devouring me, ruining me.
And then—his fingers.
One. Sliding deep, stretching, curling, stroking that devastating spot inside me.
I choked on my moan.
Then—two.
Three.
His tongue flicked faster, sucking, stroking, teasing, destroying.
I came violently.
Shaking, sobbing, gasping his name, my body convulsing around his fingers.
And he didn’t stop.
Didn’t let me come down.
Didn’t let me breathe.
He kept licking, sucking, fucking me with his fingers, dragging me higher and higher, wrecking me.
We were one throbbing, writhing entity, moving toward the edge of something catastrophic, something blinding.
The intense pleasure thrumming through my core made me sit up and grab hold of Roman’s hair, twisting my fingers through the thick, dark strands.
He growled—a deep, raw, primal sound—but didn’t stop.
He licked me harder, deeper, filthier, his fingers plunging inside me, stroking that maddening spot that unraveled me completely.
I couldn’t take it anymore.
I cried out his name, shattering completely, coming so violently that I saw stars.
“Oh, God, Roman!”
I was plugged into a current, a live wire, riding that blazing, electric bliss we all craved—liquid fire tearing through my veins.
I came all over Roman’s face, and he let out a deep, sinful, filthy moan, the sound vibrating through my core, sending me spiraling even higher.
And then, in a flash—
He lifted me from the vanity bench, spun me around, and pressed me against the mirror.
I gasped as my palms slapped against the cool glass, my legs still quivering from my orgasm.
Roman kicked the bench out of the way, clearing space, his presence towering behind me.
Our eyes met in the reflection, burning, smoldering, molten.
Still watching me, he slid the robe from my arms, tossing it aside like it was nothing. It fluttered to the floor, a whisper of silk against my skin.
His hands, strong and possessive, reached around me, his fingers untangling the ties at my neckline.
The fabric loosened, slipping over my shoulders, dragging down, down, down…
My breasts spilled free, held aloft by the bunched silk still pooled beneath them.
Roman let out a reverent breath, his gaze devouring me through the looking glass.
His voice was a low, husky command.
“Olivia, you are incomparable to any woman in this world.”
The words settled around us like dark velvet—heavy, rich, intoxicating.
I trembled.
I burned.
I belonged to him.
“Thank you,” I whispered, my voice barely there, surrendering to him completely.
His hands traced up my arms, his fingers brushing over my wrists, up my forearms, grazing my shoulders before finally curling around my waist.
Firm. Certain. Claiming.
“Press your hands against the looking glass.”
I obeyed, placing my palms flat against the mirror, feeling the coolness against my overheated skin.
My breasts hung heavy, aching, desperate to be touched, to be devoured.
Roman’s breath ghosted over my neck, his lips so close, too close, not close enough.
I whimpered, my body begging, pleading for more.
His smirk in the mirror was wicked, dark, and full of promise.
“Now, let me show you exactly how much you belong to me.”
His hands slid over my curves, possessive, worshipful, claiming. He cupped my breasts, lifting them in his palms, bouncing them teasingly, his thumbs grazing my tight, sensitive peaks.
I gasped, the sharp ache pooling molten heat between my thighs.
His fingers pinched, rolled, and twisted my nipples, sending shocks of pleasure down to my core, making my thighs tremble.
It was torture. It was heaven.
All the while, he watched me in the mirror, eyes dark and hungry.
I moaned, pressing my ass back against him, feeling the solid heat of his cock—thick, hard, heavy—nestled against my slick folds.
He groaned, his grip tightening, his voice strained. “So impatient.”
Roman gripped the hem of my silk gown, yanking it up over my ass, baring me to him completely.
“Look at me, amore mio.”
Our gazes locked.
His command was a whisper, a growl, a demand I would never deny.
“I want you to see my face when I enter you.”
My breath hitched, my body igniting.
His calloused hands palmed my round, needy ass, spreading me wider.
I hissed, undulated, my legs parting instinctively, needing him, craving him.
His nostrils flared, his grip bruising. “So beautiful.”
Roman groaned as he grasped his cock, sliding the thick, velvety head up and down my soaked folds.
I arched my back, desperate, wanton.
“Please, Roman. I’m so wet for you.”
His dark chuckle sent fire racing through me.
“I think you want this.” His voice was silk and sin. “You want me to stretch you. To fuck you.”
“Yes,” I moaned, writhing against him.
His tongue flicked over his lips as he pressed the thick tip inside.
I cried out, my fingers gripping the mirror, my body trembling.
I felt stretched, filled, torn between the devastation of my last climax and the need for another.
I wanted to be consumed. To be devoured. To be his.
Roman groaned, clutching my hips, stilling me.
“Now, watch me.” His grip tightened. “Watch me fuck you.”
Our eyes locked in the mirror, the heat between us unbearable.
He slid inside—inch by inch—until his cock was buried to the hilt.
His eyelids went heavy, his muscles tensed, and his fingers dug into my hips.
“So fucking beautiful.” His voice was wrecked, strained, and full of reverence. “I’ll never get enough of you.”
“Nor I you,” I whispered, my voice full of need and devotion.
Then—a pause.
Roman stayed still, buried inside me, pulsing, throbbing, stretching me wide.
Our gazes held, the moment thick with intensity, vulnerability, and, unfiltered need.
There were no walls, no games—just us.
I felt everything.
“Roman,” I whispered, my chest rising and falling.
His grip on my hips tightened.
“I feel it, too,” he breathed.
His voice turned rough, almost pained.
“You’re my everything, Olivia. The pause between the heartbeats, the breath I draw into my body.”
A moan tore from my lips, the words sinking into my skin, into my soul.
Roman pulled out, just enough to make me whimper, then drove back inside.
A devastating thrust. Deep. Hard. Possessive.
I cried out, my body convulsing around him, pleasure surging, overwhelming.
“Oh, God, Roman!”
His pace quickened, every thrust shaking me, dragging me under.
We struggled to hold each other’s gaze, the intensity between us blistering, unbearable, soul-shaking.
My heart felt ripped open, bare, vulnerable in a way I had never allowed myself to be with anyone else.
Roman was my everything. My ruin. My salvation.
His rhythm shifted, steady now, deep and deliberate, dragging pleasure from my body with every intoxicating stroke.
Our gazes danced in the mirror like our bodies did—connecting, pulling apart, merging, separating, and repeatedly coming together.
Roman’s voice dropped to a dark, commanding growl.
“Touch yourself.”
My breath hitched, my thighs quaking.
“Make yourself come again.”
Heat rushed through me.
With one hand braced against the mirror, I slid my fingers down, feeling where we were joined, feeling his thick cock sliding in and out of me, in and out, soaking me with every thrust.
Roman’s gaze locked onto the movement. His wicked, devastating smile sent a new flood of heat to my core.
His thrusts turned wild, punishing, merciless.
“I love you so much,” he growled, his voice wrecked, raw, desperate.
“I love you, too.”
My fingers circled my aching clit, teasing, stroking, chasing that fire, the pressure winding tighter, tighter.
Another orgasm rushed toward me, a tidal wave I couldn’t stop.
“I won’t last much longer,” I gasped.
Roman’s fingers dug into my hips, his grip bruising, possessive.
“Come for me, my flaming fire.”
His voice was an invocation, a command, a plea.
He pounded into me, harder, deeper, each stroke sending flames licking up my spine.
I shattered.
I screamed his name, my body splintering, convulsing, coming apart in waves of blistering, exquisite pleasure.
Roman roared out his release, his rhythm turning savage, his cock throbbing, pulsing, filling me as he spilled inside.