Page 36 of Stolen By the Don

I push against his shoulders, but Roman keeps me firmly against his face, his hands digging into my hips and holding me down. His mouth is a full-on assault with no mercy, wrecking every inch of my body.

I feel him—his tongue, the slide over and over, the wet suction and pressure—until it’s hard to tell where my body starts and ends.

Then I’m coming, clenching so hard my vision blurs in and out, plunging me into violet-tinged darkness. I black out, hitting my head against the bed as my body gives out.

I open my eyes moments later to see him standing next to the bed. Naked. I saw him the other day, but this… I swallow thickly.

He stares at me, an unreadable look on his face as he strokes himself, the sight of his hand movingupanddownso hypnotic I can’t look away. My tongue darts out, touching my lip, when I see precum glistening on the head of his cock.

“I like that look on your face.” He smiles. “It’s almost as if you can’t hide how much you want this. Desperate,” he drawls, stepping closer. As if pulled by a string, I go on my knees, tilting my head back to meet his gaze. He cups my chin, staring down at me with affection and pride. “You want me to fuck you, don’t you? Until you’re begging to come.”

Wordlessly, I reach out, my hand covering his. He lets go, and I touch him, his skin warm to my palm. Roman throws his head back, a groan slipping out and a curse under his breath. His hand slides behind my head, and he guides me forward. My fist drops to the bottom of his shaft, and my tongue darts out, licking the tip.

“Hell.” His grip tightens, but the slight prick of pain only urges me on. I part my lips, taking more of him into my mouth. He feels so…big. Full. My stomach tightens, and I press my thighs together as pressure builds again, throbbing fiercely.

I gag loudly as Roman tilts his hips, pulling away. Then I go down again, taking him back, savoring his harsh, raspy breathing and the trembles that shake his legs.

“Enough,” he grunts, tossing me onto the bed, my back meeting the sheets again. He strides over to his closet door and returns seconds later with a condom rolled on.

He looms over me, steadying himself with one arm as his mouth claims mine in a kiss. A soft, desperate sound slips from my throat as I cling to him, arms wrapping around his neck like I need him to stay, like I’ll fall apart if he doesn’t.

My legs lift to circle his waist, trying to pull him in, to feel more—all—of him.

“Look at me,” he rasps.

I open my eyes. His thumb traces over the outline of my swollen lips. “You look ruined. Wrecked. Just the way I like. I want to see your eyes when I fuck you. Don’t close them.”

Then he slides into me—slow, unrelenting—until the stretch forces a cry from my lips. My fingers clutch at his shoulders asmy back arches off the bed. He stills, buried deep, his breath hot against my cheek.

“Shhh,” he murmurs, voice rough and dark. “You can take it. You were made to take me like this.”

His hand slides down my thigh, gripping tightly as he rocks forward just an inch. “Feel that? That’s mine now.”

“Please,” I beg, although I’m unsure what for. His other hand slides under my thighs, and he cups my ass as he tilts his hips downward, going in. Fully. My mouth trembles as my lips remain open, unable to form a word to explain how I feel.

“That’s it.” Roman smiles. “Just like that.”

He thrusts again, harder this time, and my back bows as the pleasure turns sharp and intoxicating. Roman groans low in his throat, eyes dark as he watches me unravel beneath him.

Then he pulls out slowly, only to sit back on his knees. “Legs up,” he commands, already grabbing a pillow. I obey on instinct, dazed and breathless.

He slides the pillow under the small of my back, adjusting me with firm hands until my hips are tilted perfectly for him. The second he sinks back in, I gasp—louder this time. The new angle has me reaching wildly for him, dizzy with how deep he goes.

“Beautiful,” Roman growls, voice thick with lust. “Look at you…fuck, you’re perfect like this. Taking every inch.”

His thrusts go deep and then faster, merciless strokes that leave me gasping, moaning, clawing at the sheets. Each one sends a jolt of raw sensation through me, my body arching into him, desperate for more. He doesn’t ease up. He watches me withhooded eyes, jaw tight, sweat glistening in the silver hair at his temple.

“Feel that?” he mutters, voice low and rough as gravel. His hands grip my hips like he owns them.

I cry out, the possessiveness in his tone sending a tremor through me. He leans in, one hand sliding up my stomach, between my breasts, to grip my throat—not tight, just enough for me to feel his claim. His lips hover over mine, his breath hot and heavy before he kisses me, swallowing my moans.

“Roman…” I whimper, barely coherent. My legs shake, heels digging into the bed as he keeps up his rhythm—deep, relentless, his hips slamming against me just right, over and over.

I can’t.“I can’t!” I cry as my core pulses around him in desperate, rhythmic spasms.

“Come for me,” he breathes against my mouth. “Let me feel you lose it.”

And I do.

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