As if to prove his point, he rolls his tongue around my tender flesh until I’m tugging at his hair.
‘Holy shit,’ I whimper. ‘Touch yourself too. I need to know you are enjoying yourself.’
I want his throaty moans against me as I come. To help me get out of my head when all of the focus is on me.
‘I’m very much enjoying myself. I could spend the whole night right here.’
‘It’s okay, I know a lot of guys don’t really like it, they just do it to?—’
I lose my voice when he nips at me with his teeth. ‘I don’t want you to be thinking of any other guys while I’m tasting you.’
‘Please? For me.’
Roman doesn’t reply, sinking his mouth over me and dragging his tongue through my wetness, but I hear him undo his fly. The lusty moan that soon follows fills me with a wash of need.
His eyes flick to mine. A heady sight to look down on, all filthy gaze and slick-mouthed. Moving back, he presses his tongue flat against me, pulling it over me achingly slowly.
My breath comes in a stuttering pant as I quiver against his face.
I peer past my thighs and catch a glimpse of his dick, thick and engorged between his fingers. A whisper of jealousy rises as I think of all the times I’ve heard other women enjoying that lovely dick through the wall.
I want it.
Bad.
But beggars can’t be choosers, and I’m already nearing the edge of desire, my core thrumming with each heady swell of his tongue.
His hand snakes around my ass, pulling me tight to his face as I lose control, my muscles quaking. Bliss flashes behind my eyes as I come hard, riding Roman’s pretty face.
As the waves of desire peak and fade, Roman gives me no reprieve; he holds me tight to his face and thrusts his tongue deep inside me. His body judders as he fucks his hand, and I lean back to watch. I grow sensitive, but he growls when I try to move.
‘While we’re here, this is mine,’ he demands before sliding his tongue right back inside me, lingering in my taste. I’m taken aback by his almost vicious demand of me, and it ignites something deep in my core. A sense of filthy belonging I’ve never felt. Like he actually wants me. Even if it’s only circumstance, alcohol and stress driving him to crave me.
Roman’s muscles knot beneath his white shirt, the tux jacket long lost to our previous dancing. As he comes, he lets out a desperately throaty noise that has me open-mouthed. Fucking hell, the man’s sex on legs. Or knees, I suppose. How anybody believes this fucker is celibate, I’ll never know.
White coats his fingers as he stands while I fix my dress. We stand staring at each other, all harsh breath and tipsy shame. Well, on my part. Roman doesn’t look in the least bit shameful.
Reaching out, I examine his hand, the smooth white coating his fingers.
‘Do you need a taste, too, Maggie?’ There’s devilment in his eyes as he speaks.
I’m tempted, but I could never admit it. It’s bad enough that he knows I hump my bloody pillow while thinking of him. I need no more shame.
My silence has him tipping his head as he studies me.
Then his other hand is in my hair, tugging my head back while he looks at me.
‘Open your mouth, Princess.’
I obey with a wave of deviance washing over me.
‘There’s a good girl,’ he whispers while lifting his hand and dragging his cum-soaked fingers over my tongue.
The salty taste makes my stomach roil, and my thighs clench. In equal measure. He watches, fascinated as I press my tongue between the digits, indulging him in his filthy request.
‘You’re nothing like I thought you were,’ he murmurs, before dropping his hand and leaning closer. My breath hitches as he tips my head a little further, his eyes snagging on my cum-tainted lips.
‘Oh my God, you little freaks.’ Eliza’s voice cuts through the moment, and Roman steps back, his cheeks flushing as my sister laughs. ‘I wondered where the two of you went, only to find you didn’t even make it to your room.’
