Page 193 of Burning Daylight
Her eyes lock onto mine, and her fingers tighten around my neck. “I want you to make love to me, Roman. Whatever it is, just let it go. Be with me. We can worry about the rest in the morning.”
There’s a choice here. And maybe a better man would choose differently, but I’m not that man.
I’m desperate for her.
My hands snap to her waist and drag her into me, my lips fusing to hers.
I groan at the taste of her and then I’m pushing her back on the bed, and she’s spinning us until she’s on top and can clamber into my lap.
Her thighs bracket my hips, her sleep shorts riding up as she rocks forward, grinding herself down until I feel her heat pressed flush against me.
One of my hands tangles in the thick waves of her hair, tugging her back just enough to bare her throat, and the other grips the small of her back like I’m trying to tie us together.
I harden beneath her.
“Fuck,” I breathe against her mouth.
She smiles, wicked and soft all at once, and nips at my bottom lip like she knows exactly what she’s doing. Then she rolls her hips again.
It breaks something open in me.
I buck up to meet her, matching her rhythm, my cock straining against the thin barrier of my boxers, and these ridiculous fucking pants, andChrist, has anything ever felt this good? I grip her tighter, dragging her down harder against me, thrusting up as she rides the friction between us, our bodies moving like they’ve been waiting for this, aching for it. My fingers twist in the hem of her sleep tank, and then slip down the front of her stomach, feeling it tense and release. And then I’m dipping beneath the waistband of her tiny little sleep shorts, and I’m where I want to be most, pressing the pads of my fingers against her center.
She moans when I apply pressure, and I swallow the sound with my tongue.
I flip us around, her back hitting the mattress, and I’m on top of her in the next instant, a raging inferno of carnal need, unable to focus on anything else besides how badly I want to claim her.
She’s mine. Even if the world says otherwise. Even if the clock’s already ticking down on this moment.
The next few seconds are a blur of hands twisting in clothes: me tearing off her shirt and tossing it to the floor. I pause to drink in the sight of her; those bare breasts rising with her shallow breaths, and her skin flush and glowing in the moonlight.
“Perfect,” I mutter, cupping them in my hands, thumbing her nipples until she gasps, wiggling her body beneath mine and pressing her hot little cunt into my dick.
Her fingers twist in my hair. “Roman.”
I trail kisses down her stomach, my palm slipping back to her slick pussy. I find her clit and circle it. She writhes, her hips chasing the pressure.
“Always so soaked for me, dirty girl,” I rasp. “Is this what you want? Me between your legs and making you squirm?”
She whimpers, and my cock throbs behind my dress pants.
I move back up to press my mouth to hers, fingers slipping inside her until I’m stretching her open.
She breaks away, fumbling at my shirt, frantic and clumsy, tugging at the buttons until they pop free.
A sharp gasp and her eyes narrow as she leans in, staring at my clothes.
The blood.
She glares at the crimson stains like she’s trying to will them away. “Roman…what is that?”
“It’s what I need to talk to you about, I just?—”
“Never mind,” she says, cutting me off. “I don’t care. I don’t… I know something’s wrong, but I just… I don’t care.”
I watch her for a moment. And then two.
But I’m a selfish man, and if she’s willing to overlook my sins and let them stay in the dark for a while longer, I won’t be the one who stops her.
