Page 7 of Precious Legacy

“Presh,” Roman tuts, hands immediately cupping my bare ass and giving it a squeeze. It’s a test, an inquisitive touch. When he realizes I’m not wearing panties, his grin stretches further. “You’re lethal enough without the gun.”

I wish I could say he’s right, but that would be successfully eradicating the past. And that’s just not possible.

A gun would’ve saved me that night, and now I’ll never go without one again.

I dig the barrel deeper into his flesh. Even in the dead of night, I can see Roman’s piercing blue eyes, the menacing way his lips curl up to expose his straight white teeth. I’d love to knock a few loose right now, but I refrain, purely because he looks so infuriatingly beautiful peering up at me through the darkness that I lose focus for a second.

In one fluid movement, he seizes control back and rolls me over, leaning his weight into the weapon. I should have known that any threat like this would be met with his obnoxious brand of unwavering confidence. He hovers over me, blanketing me inan intoxicating blend of his aftershave and tequila. He obviously didn’t stay out long after I left his ass back in that corridor.

His warm breath skates over my lips, an embarrassing moan escaping my own as my grip slips and the gun presses against his temple.

“Do it,” he whispers, forcing my stubbornness to the recesses of my mind.

My eyes blow wide. Heat crawls up my spine, expanding in my chest until I’m suddenly breaking out in a sweat. Yet again, my body is defying my brain, my inner strength giving way.Shit. He knows that I’d never do it. I’ve never pulled my gun on someone I didn’t intend to harm, and that thought causes my mask to crack.

This is what Roman does to me. He makes me do crazy shit, my anger driving my actions instead of thinking clearly.

With my legs wrapped around his waist, Roman circles his hips, his excitement at the turn of events evident in the way his hard length presses into me. My traitorous pussy is so damn eager that I can’t ignore the needy pulse throbbing between my legs.

He hitches forward, the heat of his body covering mine as he runs his nose along my own. “Pull-” his tongue traces a wet path along my neck, making me shudder. “The-” he nips my jawline, “Trigger.”

Our lips brush, the magnetizing tension between us ramping up. Either I’ve had too much to drink or I’ve lost my fight to ignore the attraction between us. Once again, the need tohatehim is overshadowed by the need tohavehim.

When I don’t respond, his lips curl into a smug grin like he knows he’s won. Roman yanks the gun from my hand, sitting back on his haunches to slide the barrel over my chest, tracing the cold metal over my hardened nipples. The thin cotton barely conceals how reactive I am to him, and Roman laps it up. Herolls my nipple under the metal, his rushed breaths mingling with mine. He widens my thighs with his own, dragging the weapon over my stomach until he reaches my bare pussy.

“This better have been for me,” he smirks. I’d be a liar if I said it hadn’t crossed my mind, but I squashed any residual hope by remembering how he destroyed me. There’s nothing like the harsh sting of the past to bring you back to your senses. Unfortunately, it’s a little more difficult now that Roman towers over me.

Rubbing the cold metal against the sensitive pulse of my clit, Roman then guides the weapon between my pussy lips, coating it in my juices.

I won’t lie, the danger lacing this moment has me on edge, but it’s also heightening my senses. My nerves are frayed and my brain is misfiring, unable to decipher what should be perceived as pain versus pleasure.

“I hate you,” I grit out, though my words a direct contradiction to how my body is responding to his ministrations.

“Keep telling yourself that, Presh.” He works the weapon faster over my clit, my toes curling as I throw my head back. “But we both know how much you miss me owning this pussy.”

My back arches off the mattress as I’m lost in the dangerous sensations he’s evoking from me. I bite down on my lip, desperate to suppress the sounds he’s coaxing out, but his assault is so intense that I’m unable to hold it in. My thighs shake as his movements quicken, the weight of the gun putting more pressure on my pussy until I’m throbbing with need.

“And if you’re going to threaten me, at least be sure that you’re going to pull the trigger.”

Roman drops his head to my chest and latches his teeth around my nipple through my shirt, tugging until I’m whining and writhing. As usual, he doesn’t soothe the pain coursingthrough me—he just moves to my other nipple, offering it the same assault, like I should be grateful for the attention.

I roll my eyes, but that only goads him further. He wraps his hand around my throat, essentially pinning me to my mattress. It’s not hard enough to cut off circulation, but it restricts my air enough to cause spots to dance in front of my eyes. And the most sickening part is that even after everything, I still trust him. I still love what he does to me. There’s a look of dangerous intent in his eyes, blended with the familiar desire that he reserves only for me, and I know he’d never offer me the pleasure of dying under his hand.

As he rubs the gun harder against my clit, a needy whimper escapes me. It’s like that sound is his undoing, because Roman dives in to swallow it, his lips sliding against mine, hungry and harsh. His tongue tastes mine, the familiar pull that I’ve tried so hard to ignore threatening to drag me into its void. But it’s too late. It’s too late to fight it. The only thing I can do is give in, allow myself to ride the wave.

And I do.

I pull Roman closer with my legs wrapped around his waist, the kiss deepening until all the breath is knocked out of me and all I feel is dirty and lost. Lost in Roman. Lost in the enemy that has warped my sensibility once again.

It’s like my heart forgets and my body remembers,everything. Roman’s touch, Roman’s kiss, Roman’s ability to make me come so violently that it almost becomes an out-of-body experience.

I shudder beneath him, unable to fight the warmth coursing through my veins or the ball of pleasure unraveling like yarn deep in my belly. And then it hits me, like a wave crashing into cliffs. I fall over the blissful peak of an orgasm, shattering under the assault of my own gun, screaming out in ecstasy. My harsh, panted breaths rattle in my chest as my heart poundsagainst my ribcage. The dizzying sparks exploding through my extremities momentarily obliterate my anger for the devil hovering above me, leave me boneless.

Roman pulls away to run his tongue along the barrel of the gun, groaning with his eyes closed as he laps up my release. “You taste better than I remember.”

Shame pours over me like water to a flame, and all I can think about is how I let my guard down once again. I let Roman in when I swore I wouldn’t. But yet again, I’ve found myself caught up in our chaotic attraction.

Roman leans down to capture my lips once more. I can taste myself; my arousal tainted with the bitter blend of betrayal. “Happy birthday, Presh.”

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