Arching my back, I shivered as the wet material of my T-shirt skimmed over my bra-free breasts, my nipples hardening. I wanted to be thrown on the bed and fucked into oblivion. I longed for it, ached for it. And he felt like the perfect man to give it to me; the psycho, stalker-like tendencies he displayed only heightened my fantasies.
“Roman.”
His gaze hardened, as if he’d been pulled back from his own mental anguish, and I hoped that me, tied up here, dripping wet and begging for him to take care of me, had something to do with it.
Maybe this was something I could play with. If he had a hero complex, maybe I should play the victim. I mean, I could get behind a little roleplay.
“Roman, I’m cold.” I let out a fake shiver. “Help me get dry. Please.”
He didn’t hesitate, storming across the room and ripping open my T-shirt. I screamed, shocked by how brutal his movements were. Like he’d been holding them back and now he’d let go, they were emerging with force.
He dropped to his knees, looking up at me from beneath his long, fair lashes as he slowly peeled off my leggings before removing my shoes to form a pile of soggy clothes to the side of us.
I stood in just my lace thong and what was left of my T-shirt that hung from my shoulders, my hands still taped behind my back. Roman reached for a towel off the bed and unfolded it, never once breaking eye contact. I heated under the attention, my wet thighs having nothing to do with the rain.
“Are you always this bratty?” he rumbled as he wrapped the towel around my calf and began to dry my skin in small circles.
“You say bratty, I say confident and independent. But yes, I am.”
“Hhhhmmmm,” he hummed out.
“What does that mean?” I asked, my breath quickening as he worked up my thigh. Then he dropped the towel and, with the same intensity as before, he yanked on the sides of my thong, tearing it off me, the shreds of material falling to the floor.
“Roman,” I screamed.
His eyes lowered to my now exposed pussy, and he growled. He fucking growled. Like all my late-night romance book-induced fantasies had come to life.
“Turn around.” His voice sounded pained.
“Why?” I just couldn’t help myself, pushing him further with my insolent tone.
“Just do as you’re told and turn the fuck around.” When I didn’t move, another sound rumbled in his chest, and his handslanded on my hips. My skin flared from the contact. His huge palms set my core on fire. He shuffled closer, his face so close I could feel the echo of his breath against my waxed folds. Before I could say anything, he turned me, and I wobbled unsteadily, my bound hands throwing off my balance, but he didn’t let go, making me feel supported.
“Do you know what I think?” I let out a cry as his lips dusted my ear. I’d not even heard him stand up. “You have been on your own for so long that you’re terrified to let people in, let them help.” He pressed his towel-covered hands against my stomach, drying my damp skin. “If you were mine, I’d bend you over and spank that peachy arse of yours until you admitted you needed me.”
“Well, that might take a while because I would never admit I—” My words were stolen by a groan as he cupped the towel over my breasts and squeezed, pleasure exploding through me.
He chuckled, the sound soft like he wasn’t used to making it. “You were saying?”
I let my head fall back where it landed against his hard chest, which meant—“Oh shit, Hana, what are you doing?” Roman’s movement halted as I stroked my fingers along his thick shaft, rather glad he’d bound my hands behind my back and I could still reach his cock.
“Two can play at that game, psycho.”
He groaned as I continued to tease him. “And what game is that?”
“See how much we can wind the other up before one of us breaks.”
Silence hung in the air, and for a moment, I wondered if I’d read this wrong like I had the boiler accusation earlier, but then he threw the towel onto the bed and pushed the blunt head of his cock through my folds, causing me to cry out as it skimmed my swollen clit.
“The good thing is, little menace, that out here, no one will hear you scream.”
I was officially messed up as that information turned me on way more than it should.
He repeated the movement, rolling his hips so his cock rubbed my clit again, and instead of telling him to fuck off or begging him for more, I tightened my thighs, trapping his shaft between them, and then I rolled my own hips, working him from base to tip. A loud, satisfying grunt fell from his lips.
“Bring it on, psycho. Let’s see who breaks first.”
14
