Page 94 of Pretty When He Bleeds

I shudder beneath him, my fingers threading through his hair, tugging him closer. He kisses his way down my chest, lips ghosting over my tattoos, and when his mouth finds my nipple, he bites.

My back arches, a growl ripping from my throat as he laves his tongue over the sensitive skin. “Fuck, Roman,” I groan, my grip tightening in his hair.

“You came here to get out of your head,” he murmurs, dragging his teeth across my skin. “Guess I’ll just have to keep you occupied.”

I smirk, even as my body burns for him. “Yeah? And what’s your plan, Hotshot?”

Roman lifts his head, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. “You’ll see.”

His lips trail lower, hot and teasing, and I feel the smirk against my stomach when I twitch under him. He sucks a mark onto my hip, his hands pinning me down like he knows I’ll squirm.

“Impatient?” he mutters, glancing up at me, his hazel eyes dark and knowing.

I narrow my gaze at him. “Get a fucking move on, baby.”

Roman just chuckles, slow and easy, dragging his tongue over my skin before biting down, just to be a dick. My body jolts, a sharp inhale escaping me, and he hums like he’s satisfied with himself.

“I should make you beg,” he says, pressing a kiss to the spot he just bit. “Make you say please like a good boy.”

I let out a sharp laugh, gripping his hair and yanking his head back. “You want me begging, painslut? Fucking earn it.”

His grin is wicked, something dangerous flickering in his gaze, and for a second, I know I’ve pushed him exactly where I want him.

Roman moves fast, knocking my grip free and pinning my wrists above my head. His body covers mine, pressing me into the mattress, his breath hot against my ear. “Careful what you wish for, Damon.”

His hands map me out, dragging down my arms, over my ribs, fingertips ghosting over my stomach. It’s a slow descent—a calculated torment—because Roman loves to play. Loves to draw things out until I’m on the verge of snapping, until I’m cursing his name and arching into his touch like it’s the only thing tethering me to this world.

And maybe it is.

“Shit,” I rasp, my fingers gripping his hair.

Roman doesn’t give me a second to think, to catch up, or do anything but feel. He takes his time with me, drawing every sound, every breath, every desperate groan from my lips like he needs to hear it. Like he wants to remind me that I’m here with him, and not trapped in my own head.

And it fucking works. Roman makes sure of it.

He’s not soft about it, not careful. He knows me better than that. He knows exactly what I need—knows how to drag me out of my own head, knows how to shut out the noise until the only thing left is him. His hands, his mouth, his fucking presence taking over every inch of my body until there’s no room for anything else.

There’s no pain, no ghosts, no fucking voices in my head.

Just him.

Roman pulls back just enough to look up at me, his lips slick, his eyes burning. “You still with me?” I nod, my throat too tight for words. He smirks, dragging his tongue across his bottom lip. “Good.”

Then he goes back to making me forget. And by the time he’s done with me, my mind is blissfully quiet.

Damon

Roman’sfingersaretracinglazy circles on my ribs, his touch featherlight. We’re tangled up in his sheets, my head resting on his chest, the steady thump of his heartbeat the only thing keeping me tethered to the moment.

My body is loose, completely spent, and my mind finally quiet after the storm that’s been raging all fucking day. Roman hums softly, the vibrations rumbling through his chest. “You okay?”

I let out a slow breath, pressing my lips against his collarbone before I nod. “Yeah.”

He shifts slightly, tilting his head to look at me, his brows pinched in concern. “Liar.”

I smirk, but it’s weak. “Not lying. Just… thinking.”

He hums, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “What’s going on in that messy head of yours?”

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