I smirk at him. ‘Look who’s talking.’
‘Fair point,’ he concedes. ‘But still.’
‘What have I even got to offer other than my family heritage? I can answer the phone and pick up coffee. I can burn cookies and knit unevenly armed cardigans. But I can’t kill people.’
‘That is not a con for most men.’
‘Isn’t it?’
‘No. Most people are somewhat put off by murder. Can’t say I’ve ever seen it noted on a dating app profile. When most people discuss body count, it means a whole different thing.’
I smile despite myself.
‘You’re funny. And kind. And smart. And you care about your family. You’ve got plenty to offer.’
‘And yet I’ve landed you here, bashed up and bleeding even though you’ve done nothing but look out for me, despite the fact I don’t deserve it.’
His skin is warm as I splay my hand over his chest, and stand on my tiptoes, brushing my lips along his jaw.
‘Let me make it up to you,’ I whisper, skimming his stomach, avoiding the scrape, until my fingers settle over his belt buckle.
‘You don’t need to—’ Roman begins, until I let out a slutty little moan against his neck.
‘I want to. I want to get on my knees and have you fuck my mouth until you feel better. Don’t you want to?’
I pull back just enough to blink up at him through my lashes.
‘Fuck, Maggie. Yes I want to. But you’ve got nothing to prove.’
Talking dirty isn’t my forte, but I want to make him feel good. So I push on.
‘I can prove to you that I can swallow your cock.’
The moment he gives in flashes in the widening of his pupils, his breath hitching. Before he changes his mind, I drop to the floor, hitching my bridemaid dress up and settling on my knees at his feet.
I’m wet just looking up at him.
As much as I want to make him feel good for what I’ve done to him, I also really, really want to make him come.
‘Don’t hold back,’ I whisper, as I undo his belt. He watches me without speaking, a mix of amusement and hunger in his face. ‘I want you to be thinking about this for the rest of the day.’
As soon as I loosen his buttons, his trousers slide onto his well-muscled thighs, nothing but his underwear separating us. I’ve never craved a cock so badly in my whole life, and that’s something coming from someone who can barely function without a daily orgasm.
He’s halfway to hard when I slide the boxer briefs down and unveil his impressive dick. While it’s not excessively long, it’s thick enough to make me doubt my abilities. Girth-tastic, some might say.
Well, I might.
Leaning forward, I tenderly kiss the soft skin, watching his face as I do. His jaw tics when my lips meet flesh, and his fingers clench the edge of the basin behind him.
‘Damn, Maggie.’ Much to my chagrin, he holds himself back from touching me. Clearly possessing far more willpower than I. ‘Show me how badly you want it.’
Oh, I will.
I focus on using my tongue and lips to tease him until he’s fully (and a little terrifyingly) hard. Every timeI get close to taking his head into my mouth, I move to his balls until he’s nearly mad with need.
It’s a little mean to tease him so, but I want him as feral as I feel.
I want him to remember me as more than another bedpost notch when we go home.
