“Arms up, Firebird.”
I do as he says, lifting my arms above my head. He pulls the vest up higher but before the material clears my hands he gives it a sharp twist, pinning my wrists together.
I gasp.
Roman’s other hand spins me at my hips to face the ladder and with a speed that has my pantiesdrippinghe bends me over and hooks the trailing fabric of my vest around one of the rungs.
I’m in nothing but my bra and panties. Roman’s standing fully dressed beside me and for some reason that is really fucking hot. Need unfurls in my core, but I force myself to stay still because I’m not fully convinced this isn’t all in my imagination.
Except I know this is real because I’ve dreamt of Roman touching me for years and even my dirtiest fantasies pale incomparison to the pure, devastating pleasure that waterfalls over me when Roman trails his knuckles down my back.
“You look good like this,” he murmurs. “All bent over and ready for me.”
Jesus.
His fingers flick the hook of my strapless bra and the black lace drops to the floor beneath me.
“Roman,” I moan.
He kneels down beside me and tugs on my ponytail till I’m looking at him. “You good, Firebird?”
I nod, tingles running down my spine from his grip on my hair. “So fucking good.”
Roman closes the distance, capturing my lips with his. He tastes of apples and smoked wood and his kiss smolders inside of me.
I go a little dizzy when he pulls away, my heart a hundred butterflies.
Roman rakes the loose strands of hair back from my face. “You say stop and I stop, got it?”
I nod, not trusting my voice right now but Roman shakes his head. “Nuh uh, Firebird, I need your words.”
I wet my lips. “Okay, yes.”
He lifts a brow. “Yes,Roman.”
I can’t help the smile that curves my lips, the wild part of me burning away the nerves and making me want to play with fire. “Yes,Roman,” I say sweetly.
Sultry eyes narrow on me, but I see the smile he’s holding back. He juts up his chin. “We’ll work on that.”
The subtle threat in his words has my pulse jumping and I curl my hands around the rung I’m now tied to with my own damn vest.
Roman stands up, trailing a finger down my spine as he walks behind me.
I breathe through the shudder that racks my body head to toe.
His tortuous touch comes to a stop at the edge of my panties. I wait for him to hook the lacy material under his fingers and drag it down my legs but instead of the cool breeze of air I expect, a sharp smack stings my ass.
I suck in a breath and twist my neck to glare at him.
He tsks. “That was for standing on tiptoes on a fucking paint can at the top of a ladder.” He rubs his palm over my smarting cheek, the rough callouses of a hand well worked scratching vibrations against my skin. “The next one’s for calling Jarred instead of me.”
Before I have time to defend myself, he spanks me again. The smack judders through me, pleasure and pain shooting straight to my clit. Any protests fall away, and I let my head hang forward.
“You done?” I pant.
“Not quite.” His open palm hits my ass one more time, harder than before, and I rock forward, my fingers clenching around the metal rung.
“That,” Roman says, gripping my sore ass, “was for making me wait six damn years before making you mine.”
