19

R oman.

Roman.

Roman .

All I can think, or feel, or see right now is him.

I'm laying on his bed staring up at him, panting with a need that I can't even explain. It literally feels like if he doesn't touch me…there, I might die.

No one's ever touched me like I want him to touch me. I tried a few times, but it just never felt right. I didn't know what I was doing, and I was usually in a tiny apartment or tent with my parents. That would have been just weird.

I can see the hungry look in his eyes, and still, I trust him.

I can feel another wave of heat rolling over my body and can't help myself when I arch my back, whimpering and wriggling on the bed, and my mouth decides it also doesn't need my consent. “Please, Roman. Please touch me.”

He growls and rolls his neck before taking his shirt off.

I scramble back up to kneel next to him so I can touch him. I want to feel him, and, GOD, he feels so good.

He snatches my hands gently and lays me back on the bed and says, “Let me make you feel better. I need my control, and if you keep touching me like that, I won't have any left.”

If he thought that would help, he was wrong. It's only made me hotter and more breathless.

He leans over me, and this time he kisses me. He kisses me like he needs my kisses to survive. Like he could live off of just me.

Then his hand is slowly trailing up my thigh. When he reaches my waist, he slips his hand beneath my shirt and continues moving north with featherlight touches. When his fingers barely skim across my bra line, my breath hitches.

“Are you okay?” he asks with worry in his eyes.

At first, I can only nod, but he seems to be waiting for me to speak. “Yes, yes, yes. I'm more than okay,” I ramble as I sit up and pull my shirt off.

His hungry eyes turn completely to molten desire, and the power I have over this monster of a man urges me on. I reach forward and trail my fingers across the ripples of muscles on his chest before I bring my hands behind me to unclasp my bra and gently toss it off the side of the bed.

Roman looks between my chest and my eyes, like he's not sure how to proceed without crossing the line of my wishes, so I reach across the small space between us, take his hand in mine, and slowly bring it to my breast.

The second his hand engulfs me, my head falls back. The tingling and sensations flying through my body are otherworldly. I never want this feeling to stop. He brings his other hand up to my other breast, and the intensity of it causes me to moan, and for once, I can't find an ounce of embarrassment.

His lips trail kisses along my neck and shoulder, nipping and almost whining when he reaches the soft skin in the bend of my neck. His hands begin to kneed my breast and nipples, and I gasp at the change in the already intense feelings. I swear, there is literal lava collecting between my thighs.

He continues his exploration of the top half of my body, and I feel like I'm being worshipped and torn apart all at the same time.

His kisses leave my neck and skitter across my collarbone. He continues kissing his way down my body until he's eye level with my chest. I'm wriggling and panting and holding on to him for dear life when he makes eye contact with me, and so incredibly slowly, let's his tongue fall out of his mouth. Maintaining eye contact, he leans farther forward and uses his tongue to trace circles around my nipple, and this time, it's me who growls.

The heat in my body continues to rise, and I feel like I'm losing my mind, but oh, what a way to go. I feel like fire is dancing through my veins, and I've never felt as treasured as I do in this moment with him. My mate.

My fingers instinctually tangle in his hair and hold him to me while he sweetly tortures each breast.

He finally pulls back to look into my eyes again, and the green and blue hues of his eyes almost seem to be glowing.

“P-please. I need…” I don't know what I need, but I just know I NEEEEEED it.

“I know, baby. I know. Are you sure you're comfortable?”

“Yes. Please. Help. Touch me,” I beg.

He leans back into my body, kissing a path down my sides and around my belly button before continuing across my waistband, making eye contact again as if asking for permission.

Instead of answering him, I reach down and shimmy myself loose from the black joggers I wore to class today. He takes a deep breath through his nose, growls, and rolls his neck again before laying his body beside mine on his massive bed.

I begin to whine and protest because I want, no need, his attention where the liquid fire continues to collect, but he silences me for a moment with another blistering kiss.

Each kiss I've had with him grows stronger, more urgent, more life-altering. This one is no different. Our bare skin connected from the waist up is causing my brain to misfire. All there is in this moment is me and him. I notice even his normal cherry and leather smell has gotten stronger and a bit—how do I explain it—muskier?

While his lips devour mine, his fingers are again trailing my body, and all I can do is hold onto him. When he reaches the edges of my pink lace thong, my hips take on a mind of their own and lift into the pressure of him, and I moan.

He slips his fingers lower, still outside of my panties, and he's almost where my body is screaming with need. When his fingers connect with a bundle of nerves, I cry out, causing him to groan, and I can feel his need for me against my hip.

He rubs his fingers around the sensitive spot, and I swear, my very existence is coming unraveled. I don't know what to do with my hands; they're frantically touching him everywhere I can reach. My hips won't rest on the bed, begging him to keep going.

He breaks our kiss, and now all I can hear is my moaning whimpers and his growly, labored breathing. He bends himself over me, taking one of my still tender nipples in his mouth, twirling his tongue around it while his fingers are on the move again, retreating further south.

When he reaches the sodden pink lace separating us, I throw my head back and moan his name.

That seems to be the key to unlocking a little bit of my mate's control, because once he has a hold of the flimsy material separating us, he says, “I’ll buy you all the pretty little underthings your heart desires, but these are mine now.” With those words, the tip of his finger elongates into a claw. He flicks his wrist, cutting the lace from my body, and brings it to his face as he closes his eyes and inhales.

“What are you doing?” I gasp, the embarrassment trying to weasel it's way back in.

“The scent of your need for me is...” His eyes open wide, and I can feel the heat radiating from them as they dart to meet mine. “It’s intoxicating,” he growls, tucking the stolen garment into his back pocket.

I'm completely bare to him. No one has seen me naked for years. My parents stopped helping me bathe over a decade ago. I've always been modest. I thought I would feel more vulnerable than I do in this moment, but all I feel is cherished. How could I feel anything else with the look on his face? He seems to be cataloging every inch of my skin. Committing it all to memory.

When another surge of heat rolls through my body, he's not even touching me when I cry out. It immediately shakes him from his thoughts and brings him back to me. He's tracing all the same pathways he did before he touched me the first time, but now, instead of being lust drunk to his kiss, I want to watch. I want to see how he touches me while I feel it. So I prop myself up on my elbows as he reaches where my panty line used to lay.

He stops again, making eye contact and silently begging for permission, and fuck if I don't love him for respecting my earlier established boundaries.

Do I love him? The thought causes me to release another moan. Even if I do, I'm not ready to tell him , but I hope he can see in my eyes what I'm not ready to admit.

He looks away from me, also watching where he's touching me. Like he wants to memorize these moments too. His fingers finally drift across my smooth skin. I've always hated my own body hair, so action or not, I kept up with the landscaping.

When he finally separates my tender flesh and makes full contact with that same small bundle of nerves, I see stars. “More. Oh, shit. Please, Roman. I need more,” I beg shamelessly, and again, I’ve found another key to unlocking any reservations he may still hold.

“Okay, Sunshine. I've got you.”

His fingers twirl around that sweet spot, massaging me in the most euphoric way. When he moves to my core, wet and waiting for him, I suck in a lungful of air. I watch him ever so slowly move his fingers through my folds, collecting the lava my body has only ever produced for him.

When I think he'll finally slide his finger inside of me, he brings it to his lips and licks all of me off of him before bringing it back down. He again collects the wetness, but this time my wish is granted.

He slowly runs his finger along my opening before barely sliding it inside of me, and I immediately know that this is what my body wants. I need this. I need him.

“Roman. Now. Please,” I pant out, and he slides it a little farther inside, and my head falls back.

“Good girl,” he breathes while he allows me a moment to adjust to the size of his finger while I moan. When I bring my head back up to meet his eyes, I nod my head and he moves.

When he moves like that, the rest of the world completely falls away. There's no bed. No room. No house. There is only Roman and I.

“Yes. Yes. Please.”

“Are you ready, baby?” he asks, and all I can do is frantically nod my head.

He brings his other hand around, so his forearm is laying up my stomach and across my belly button. While the first hand slowly moves his finger in and out of me, stopping just as he meets the resistance of my innocence. His second hand finds that beautiful bundle and rubs it in small circles while he continues to move inside of me, and I feel like I'm being shot into the stratosphere.

I can't breathe. I can't speak. Whatever this is just keeps growing and climbing, and if I'm being honest, it's a little scary.

“I'm here, Leera. I've got you. Fall. I swear, I'll always catch you.”

The sincerity in his words is the final push my body needs, and all of a sudden, an explosion goes off inside of me. The world around me shatters completely as I scream his name and fireworks go off behind my eyelids.

I think I blacked out for a minute because when I open my eyes, he's scooped my body into a cradled position and is nuzzling the crook of my neck, whispering the sweetest words.

“You did so good, baby. Such a good girl for me.”

My body is still quivering and fluttery as I allow my eyes to close and take in the moment.

No wonder people are obsessed with sex. If that's what first and second base feel like!

The burning need and desire seem to have tampered down a bit and are no longer bordering on painful.

When I open my eyes to meet his, I see nothing but love in his eyes.

I release a heavy sigh, and he leans in to kiss me on my forehead. Reaching up, I run my fingers up the side of his face and into his hair. Just holding him. Feeling him.

“That was incredible,” I whisper to Roman and myself.

“Did it help? Do you feel better?” he asks, returning to his adorable worrisomeness.

I nod, feeling my cheeks heat when I smile and ask, “Can we do that again?” Before I know it, he’s flipping and hovering over me again, causing me to giggle.

I don't know how many times it takes before the burning need from the heat is totally drowned in orgasms, but as I drift off to sleep in his arms, I think maybe going into heat isn't such a bad thing.