He stands, shedding his clothes, giving me a full view of his powerful, tattooed, and scarred body. Firelight paints the hard lines of his chest, highlighting the scars. He leans in and takes me by the hips, turning me, my hands braced on the arm, ass up.
He presses down with his hand between my shoulder blades, bending me further into a deeper arch. His other hand guides himself to my entrance. He doesn’t tease. One brutal thrust and he’s buried to the hilt. The stretch is beyond comprehension, bordering pain but staying right at the perfect edge. I cry out and he groans as my walls grip him tightly.
“There you go,” he says, one hand clenched on my hip, the other moving along my curves. “There’s the view I’d do anything to see.”
Roman pulls out then drives back into me, setting a punishing rhythm, hips slamming against my ass, skin slapping skin. Every thrust jolts through me, deep and claiming, and everything I need. His hand slides up my spine, fingers tangling in my hair, tugging my head back gently.
His mouth is at my ear. “Feel that? How fucking perfectly you take me? Every goddamn inch. You are mine Amalie. Mine.”
The words take me apart. I push back into him, meeting every thrust. I feel so greedy for him, the tightness of his grip on my side, the stretch of him within. He reaches around, pressing on my clit perfectly.
“You’ll never run again,” he says, his tone dark and sensual. “You’ll stay right here. Right where you belong.”
“Yes,” I practically sob. “I’ll never run again.”
He drives deeper, his pace almost savage. “Come for me. Now.”
The orgasm crashes over me, fierce and blinding. I clench hard around him, pulsing like crazy, my cries muffled against the cool leather. He fucks me through it, his pace relentless as he draws out every shudder.
He stays buried deep for a long moment, chest heaving against my back, the heat of him perfect. When he finally slips out, I want him back.
Greediness takes over. I move around, dropping to my knees between the sofa and Roman. He’s still hard as hell, slick with my juices. I meet his eyes, then turn my attention to his cock,wrapping my hand around the base. His jaw tightens, a low growl escaping his throat.
I lean in, tongue tracing the head, tasting salt, sex, and us. He’s sensitive, his hips jerking as I swirl my tongue around. Then I take him deeper, lips sealing tight, sucking slowly. My free hand cups him gently, rolling as I hollow my cheeks and draw back to the tip.
“Amalie,” he rasps. I can sense by the way his voice is breaking that he’s close to release.
I want him. Every goddamn drop. I hum around him, the vibration pulling out another groan. But like always, he gently guides my head away.
He doesn’t say another word before lifting me, carrying me to the massive Oriental rug in front of the fireplace, and laying me down. The warmth bathes my skin. He brings a pillow from the couch with him, slipping it under my head. Then he parts my thighs, his eyes lingering on my pussy, his tongue moving over his lips.
The way he wants me, craves me, does things to me that I can’t comprehend.
He slides back inside, the stretch so familiar, so damn good. Face to face, chest to chest, he fills me completely. I wrap my legs around his waist, pressing my heels into the small of his back. One of his hands cups my cheek again, his thumb grazing over my lower lip.
Roman starts to move with deep, unhurried strokes that hit every spot I need him to. His eyes are locked on mine, firelight flickering in his gorgeous green gaze. Sweat beads at his templeand I reach up to brush it away, allowing my fingertips to graze the sharp line of his jaw.
“You’re here,” he says, his voice low. “With me.”
“I am.”
His rhythm deepens, his hips rolling in a perfect grind that presses down on my clit with every push. Pleasure builds slowly, his mouth finding mine as we kiss hard but tenderly. One of his hands slides down, his palm splaying over my breast, kneading gently, his thumb circling my nipple.
The intimacy is almost overwhelming. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt before, but I fall into it all the same. He angles himself so he can push into me even deeper, his pace measured.
“Let me feel you,” he whispers against my lips. “All of you.”
I’m close—right there at the edge. The words rise like they’re the only words in the world I could possibly say in that moment.
“Roman, I?—”
The words almost tumble out, raw and reckless. I bite my lip hard, swallowing them. But a strange look flickers in his eyes, like he knew what I was going to say. His expression softens, something fierce but tender taking hold for just a moment.
Then he kisses me harder, thrusting steadily as the wave begins to crest, my breasts bouncing underneath him, his muscles tensing and flexing.
“Come,” he commands softly. “Come with me.
The orgasm rolls in shuddering waves, softer than before, pulsing around him as tears prick my eyes. He follows a moment later, burying his face in my neck as he spills—hot, endless, raw—inside me, his hips rolling as he carries me through the climax, his warmth flooding me.
