Page 80 of By the Letter

He lifted me enough to position himself at my entrance. He had complete control of me, moving me where he wanted, slowly impaling me on him. His fingers dug into my hips as he lowered me inch by inch. Once I was fully seated, I was struck by a sharp sense of relief at how perfectly this man filled me.

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Yes,” he echoed. “Oh god, yes, Shira. Ride me. Ride me hard.”

My eyes were closed as tight as they could be, but I felt his gaze all over me. He’d flipped the bodice of my nightie down and had one breast in his hand while the other guided my movements, lifting me up and down by my ass.

This was what I’d been aching for: Roman splitting me apart, squeezing my soft spots, sucking on my hidden, tender areas. Taking everything he wanted, using my pussy for his pleasure,giving me almost too much in return. I was heavy between my thighs and so wet each stroke of his cock made obscene, erotic sounds, turning me on even more.

“On fire for me,” he gritted out. “I feel that, Shir. Love that fire only I get to see. That’s mine, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” I panted, not quite sure what I was agreeing to. I was close again. Blood roared in my veins as I rolled my hips over him.

“You’re so fucking wet, baby. Do you know how much I like that?” He held my breast up to his mouth and drew my nipple in deep, suckling hungrily.

My head fell back, mouth opening to sigh my pleasure to the stars circling above my head.

“You make me so hard. These tits, your ass, your hair, the sounds you make…” He arched up as he shoved me down, thrusting so deep I lost my breath. “I can’t last for you. Not with you bouncing in my lap, looking like a ripe peach I want to devour and lap up every last drop of the juices.”

“You have a filthy mouth,” I panted.

“You’re filling my mind with filthy thoughts.” He palmed my crown, drawing my face to his. “Give me your mouth, Shira. Need it right now.”

Then he took it himself, not allowing me a chance to give it to him. With our lips sealed, Roman moved, taking me with him. Flipping us around, I was on my back, my legs locked around his waist, and he was standing, one knee on the mattress.

Holding my hips, he powered into me with purpose. Teeth clamping his bottom lip, he watched my breasts bounce from the force of his thrusts, and I watched him looking at me. His attraction was laid bare and raw. I tried to grasp it, keep it with me, but my mind was a slippery thing. And when his gaze snapped up to burn into mine, I arched my neck and slammed my eyes closed to avoid it.

Reaching down, he rolled my clit with this thumb. “I want to feel you coming around me. Give me that,” he ordered.

I was a sucker for this man. He’d wound me up for the last month, had made me needy for his cock, and had learned the rhythm of my pleasure like it was his own. When he drove deep and touched me, it was done with expert precision. Roman wanted me to ignite for him, and I did. Gasping, panting, my legs pedaling next to his hips, I held my breasts, squeezing them and plucking at my nipples as I fell to pieces.

The shattered groan Roman made would forever be burned in my brain. It was the sound of a powerful man surrendering, accepting his fate. His grip was tight on my hips as he plunged into me a few more times then stilled, our pelvises flush, practically sealed together. Liquid heat coated my clenched channel, my internal muscles working to take everything he had.

Careening forward, he braced his fall with his hands on either side of my head. Hot breath on my lips, his nose sliding along mine, I forced my lids to open, and our eyes collided.

“That what you needed?” he asked.

I nodded. “Exactly.”

His lips touched mine in a quick, firm kiss. “Good, baby. Then we both got it.”

The next part wasn’t my favorite, losing him from inside me and the awkward shuffle to the bathroom to clean up. But what followed made up for it.

Roman lifted the covers for me, and when I climbed into bed, he arranged his body around mine, tucking me against him—right where I’d been longing to be again.

“Was that okay?” he asked.

I laughed. “Okay?”

His chest rumbled through my back. “I’m asking if I hurt you, not if you came. That, I know the answer to.”

I turned my head, which he’d fitted beneath his chin, and rubbed my cheek against his chest. “I feel really good. You didn’t hurt me at all.”

His hands splayed on the curve of my belly, and after a moment, I placed mine on top of his. Two of my fingers made up the width of one of his. I imagined these massive hands had been good for playing rugby. I wished I could have seen him on the field.

“Does your shoulder still hurt?” I asked.

“Hmm? From my injury?”

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