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.
