there to only be Roman and me.
Just us, joined, nothing else in the world.
Maybe he senses my weakening resolve, or maybe he’s just driven by the same need that’s burning through my veins, but he presses me up against the door, attacking my mouth and neck with greedy, demanding lips. I tilt my head up, soaking in the feeling of his mouth on me, trying to give more of myself to him.
My hands work through his soft, dark hair, mussing up the perfect strands like I’m trying to mark him as mine. When his teeth bite down on the junction of my neck and shoulder and he sucks hard at my skin, it occurs to me that maybe he’s trying to do the same thing—and the thought makes a surge of wetness dampen my panties.
Jesus. Why is that so fucking hot?
To be marked by Roman.
To be claimed by him.
He releases the bite and runs his tongue over my skin, soothing the sting as I whimper and writhe against him. We’re already smashed up against the door, but I hook my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist, fusing our bodies together even closer. My nipples rub against the fabric of my bra as I move against him, the little buds already peaked and sensitive.
We kiss like that for so long that my lips are swollen and tingly when he finally drags me away from the door. I think he’s going to carry me to the bed, but instead, he sets me down on a low dresser on the opposite wall. Once I’m sitting on it, he unwinds my legs from around his waist and steps back. His lips are red too, and his cobalt eyes are even more intense than usual.
Without saying a word, he walks to his nightstand and retrieves a condom from the drawer, then comes back and sets it on the dresser. Then he takes the hem of my shirt in both hands.
“Arms up.”
I do as he says immediately, watching him closely as he tugs the shirt up and over my head. His gaze scans my body, and his eyes darken. When I glance down, I immediately realize why.
Bruises and red marks from my attack decorate my skin. Nobody got in a good enough hit to do any real damage, but my body does bear evidence of the fight I just went through. To be honest, I’ve gotten more banged up just sparring before, but… context is everything.
A low, angry, hot-as-fuck noise falls from Roman’s mouth. His body is tense and radiates danger like a predator about to strike, but when he lowers his head and kisses a bruise on my right shoulder, his touch is heart-wrenchingly gentle. He reaches behind me and unclasps my bra as he presses a kiss to another small bruise. Then he works on my pants and panties, and I kick off my shoes as he slides the garments down my legs.
He kisses every single mark on my body before he lets me take his shirt off. When I finally get my hands on the warm skin of his chest, I swear it feels like fucking heaven. He’s so solid and masculine, his large form making me feel smaller than my 5’8” stature, and I love it.
My hands to go his button and fly, and then I push his pants down just enough to free his cock. I lick my palm, and he lets out a harsh groan, his breath picking up, as I work my hand over his smooth, velvety shaft. He shoves his pants the rest of the way down and steps out of them, thrusting his hips against my strokes.
“Fuck, Elliot.” His words are a groan, a deep murmur, like they’re being pulled out of some primal part of him. “I need you. Do you even know how much?”
He pushes my legs wider apart, then his own hand finds my pussy and he drags a finger up my folds before circling my clit. He slides two fingers inside me, and when he feels how wet I am already, his cock throbs in my grip.
“Condom.”
At his harsh, one-word command, I release him immediately, groping for the little packet on the dresser beside me. I tear it open and slide it on him, my core already clenching hard, my clit throbbing. I can’t wait any longer. I need this yesterday.
When the condom is secure, he wraps an arm around me, tugging me closer to him so my ass