“Don’t stop,” I whisper, the words spilling out before I can stop them. My hand curls around the back of his neck, pulling him back to me. “Please don’t stop.”
“Savannah.” My name rasps across his tongue, something pleading in the way he says it. “Savannah?—”
I tilt my chin up, leaning forward to meet his mouth halfway, and when my lips touch his, I can feel something in him snap.
He surges forward, pinning me to the tree as his mouth slants over mine, one hand cupping my chin as he devours me. The sound that comes from him is almost painful, vibrating against my lips, and I feel his hand in my skirt tug it upwards.
The silk slithers over my legs, the sensation suddenly painfully sensual. The feelings tearing through me are wholly unfamiliar: heat and aching, as if my skin is suddenly too tight for my body, my heart pulsing through every inch. I need something that I can’t explain, that I don’t have words for, and I whimper against Romeo’s mouth, my hips arching wordlessly against his.
“Shh,” he breathes against my lips. “I’ve got you,uccellino. Let me make you fall apart.”
His hand slides under my dress, finding the thin silk thong beneath it. I feel that low, desperate sound rattle from his chest again. Then his fingers are between my folds, teasing them apart as his thumb finds my clit and his first two fingers press against my entrance.
“You can tell me to stop,” he breathes raggedly against my lips, as I feel his fingers hovering there. “I swear I will, Savannah.”
I believe him, even though the sound of his voice says he’d struggle to obey. I can feel every muscle in his body straining, feel him throbbing against my thigh, and I lean in to kiss him again, my hips arching into his hand.
“God,” he groans, and then he’s kissing me again too, and I feel his fingers slide into me.
I’ve never felt anything like that before. I gasp against his mouth, rolling my hips into his hand as I seek out more of the friction against my clit, desperate for more friction, more pressure, more of everything. I rock against his hand shamelessly, and he groans against my mouth.
"Fuck, Savannah." His voice is wrecked. "You're so wet for me."
I should be embarrassed. I should push him away. But instead I'm pulling him closer, my hands fisting in his shirt, trying to get him to touch me where I need it most.
"Please," I whisper against his lips. "Please, Romeo?—"
"So tight," he murmurs, his forehead pressed against mine. "God, you're so fucking tight."
His fingers curl inside of me, and I let out a helpless moan. My body adjusts, accepting him. When he starts to move with slow, deliberate strokes that hit something inside me that makes stars burst behind my eyelids, I forget how to breathe.
"That's it," he says, his voice low and rough against my lips as he kisses me again. "Take what you need. Show me what you want."
I'm moving against his hand faster now, chasing the pleasure building inside me, nothing like the careful, controlled person I've always been. His thumb rolls against my clit, and I nearly sob with the intensity of it.
"Romeo—I can't—it's too much?—"
"You can take it." His fingers curl inside me, hitting that spot again, and I see white. "You’re going to come for me like a good girl, aren’t you? You’re so perfect. I can feel it.”
I can hear music in the distance, the muffled sound of the gala continuing without us. I’m viscerally aware of how easily we could be caught, and the danger of it—the wrongness of it—only makes it more intense. I'm pressed against a tree in a garden a hundred yards from the gala, my dress hiked up around my hips, Romeo's fingers inside me, and anyone could walk by. Anyone could see.
Thad could find us.
The thought should terrify me. Instead, it sends another wave of heat through my body.
He deserves this. He deserves to lose the chance to take this from me.
I have no idea how I could possibly get out of my engagement; I don’t think I truly believe that I can. But right now, tonight, I’m making the choices. Romeo has already touched me like this before, but I can give him something else. Something that I want so badly to let him take right now.
Romeo's breathing is ragged now, his control slipping. I can feel how hard he is against my thigh, and I reach down between us, palming him through his pants. He hisses, his hips jerking forward involuntarily.
"Savannah—fuck—you don't have to?—"
"I want to." My voice doesn't sound like mine. It's breathy and desperate, raw with need. "I want to touch you."
I fumble with his belt, my hands shaking. He helps me with his free hand, his movements impatient, almost frantic. When I finally get his pants open and wrap my hand around him, he groans, turning his face into my neck so that I feel that deep, guttural sound vibrate against my skin.
I’ve never touched a man like this before, not even outside of clothes. Feeling Romeo in my hand now, hot and hard and so much bigger than I thought even from feeling the outline of him against me, and he feels foreign and right all at the same time.
