Page 85 of Claimed By My Biker Daddies
He is rough where I want him to forget manners.
Roman sets me on the mattress and stands over me for one heartbeat like he has to memorize the sight for the part of him that keeps lists.
I reach for him, unable to stay away any longer.
He comes down and the world narrows to heat and the slide of fabric and the way his mouth breaks on a laugh when I tug him by the belt.
We argue again for sport.
It lasts three sentences.
He wins because I let him and because there are better ways to spend a mouth.
The quilt wrinkles, and his palm goes heavy on my thigh. My breath changes shape.
He says, very soft and very sure, “I have you.” Then he proves it.
16
ROMAN
I don’t rip her blouse.
I want the sound of each button giving way like I’m testing how much patience she has left.
By the time I’ve spread the fabric and seen her tits spilling against the lace, she’s writhing under me, biting her lip hard enough I can taste the copper when I kiss her again.
“You’re already shaking,” I growl against her throat, dragging my teeth down the line of it, sucking a mark into the soft dip above her collarbone.
My hand slides down her stomach, over the twitch of muscle, fingers slipping beneath the waist of her skirt.
She gasps when I press against the heat of her through damp lace.
“Roman—” It’s a plea, broken, and it makes my cock throb so hard it hurts.
I chuckle low, grinding my hips down so she feels me straining against denim. “You’re soaked, angel. You want me inside you that bad already? Or do you want me to keep teasing you until you cry for it?”
She squirms, her nails digging into my arms. “You bastard.”
“Say please,” I rasp, sliding my fingers against her slit until the lace is nearly see-through with it. She bucks her hips up, chasing it, but I pull back, making her whimper. “Say it.”
Her eyes flash, but her mouth betrays her. “Please.”
That’s when I shove her skirt up and tear the lace aside.
I press two fingers into her slick heat, slow but deep, curling until her back arches.
She moans loud, head tipping back, and I watch her come undone, my name spilling from her lips like prayer and profanity at once.
I pump my fingers faster, grinding my palm against her clit.
Her thighs quiver around my hand, her breath coming in ragged sobs, until she claws at my belt like she’ll die if she doesn’t get me free.
“Greedy little thing,” I growl, kissing her hard enough she gasps into my mouth as I finally let her tug me open.
My cock springs free, heavy and aching, and her eyes lock onto it like it’s the only thing left in the world.
She slides down my body, slow, deliberate, her lips brushing my stomach, her breath hot on the base of me.
