Page 157 of Burning Daylight
He bottoms out on the last word, and I clench around him, my wetness dripping out of me and smearing down my thighs. He sets a relentless rhythm, his hips snapping against me repeatedly, his cock hitting every oversensitive nerve inside me.
One arm stays locked around my waist, pinning me to him, and his other hand finds my hair and fists it, yanking back just enough to make my spine arch and my mind go blank.
I gasp and he thrusts up into me.
“You feel that?” he rasps into my ear. “That’s what beingminefeels like.”
I whimper, every part of me burning.
“You’re mine too,” I manage, my hips swirling back as I clench my pussy walls around him like a vise.
He chuckles, low and dark. “You don’t get it, do you?” He pulls out just enough to torture me. “I’ve always been yours. The moment I met you, I was ruined.”
The confession lands hard, cracking open the center of my chest.
He groans, his teeth sinking into the side of my throat.
I can’t speak. Can’t even breathe. All I can do is give in to the sensation, feel him stretch me open while his hand slides from my waist down to my clit, applying the perfect amount of pressure.
“Roman,” I gasp.
“Give it to me, Little Rose,” he murmurs, his voice sounding like it’s scraped over gravel. “Make a mess all over me.”
My orgasm crashes through me like lightning, my body locking up and my pussy spasming around him. I moan his name out like he’s the only thing I know, and I grind into his jerky thrusts, riding every wave.
“Come inside me,” I beg. “I want to walk back to him while you’re leaking out of me.”
He lets out a hoarse, broken groan, and then thrusts deep one last time, his dick jerking wildly as he spills.
We stay in place, the quiet feeling like cotton balls in my ears.
I’m trembling. Breathless. And his hands grip me like he never wants to let me go.
He slides out of me, thick and dripping, and I exhale heavily at the loss.
Roman doesn’t say a word. He just spins me around, releases me and then kneels between my legs. His eyes drop to the mess we made, and before I can gather my thoughts, his mouth is on me again.
I jerk, overstimulated and out of my mind, and he pins my hips with both hands, his tongue dragging through the mix of us with a slow and deliberate type of pressure.
He moans, and then presses a soft kiss to my clit before placing my underwear over it.
Then he looks up at me with a satisfied smirk.
“What do I taste like?” I ask, my chest heaving from how hard I’m trying to control my breath.
His grin darkens, and he stands up and leans in until our noses brush.
“Mine.”
A ragged whimper leaves me at his words and I rest my forehead against his chest. “You’re ridiculously possessive, you know?”
He hums.
Lifting up on my toes, I press my lips to his again, my heart flipping when I do.
This is right.
This is home.
