Page 182 of Uprising

He opens his eyes scanning my face as if he’s assuring himself of what he thinks I’m looking for, as if he wants to check what signals I’m giving off, like he doesn’t know my body better than I know myself.

“Fuck me.” I say. Not because this moment is sexy, not because I’m turned on exactly, but because I want him to prove it, to claim me, to override my stupid thoughts with his body and just get lost in the physical pleasure of this for a bit.

He tangles his right hand in my hair. He kisses me again as his left slides under my t-shirt and then he’s cupping my breast, teasing my nipple before he pulls the fabric up entirely and he’s capturing it with his mouth.

I let out a moan. I rub myself against his hardened cock and I run my own hands down his chest to where the elastic waistband of his sweatpants are.

He groans as I take him in my hands and as I run them up and down his shaft, turning him on more.

And then he’s pushing me onto my back, ripping my underwear off, and opening my legs so wide. I arch my hips, I arch my back, ready for the deep delicious feel of him.

His fingers spread me open. His hot breath hits me right at my core.

He plants a kiss on my clit and I feel myself leaking out more arousal.

“Roman.” I gasp opening my eyes staring down at him.

His face is right there, he’s studying my most intimate part like I’m a piece of art, a sculpture.

“I’ll never get sick of this view.” He murmurs before running his tongue so lightly up me.

I shudder, raising my hips. “Fuck me. Please.” I beg.

He tilts his head looking back up at me.

I don’t want this foreplay, I don’t want him taking his time, I want him in me, buried so deeply. I want to lose myself as he fucks the very breath out of me.

He smirks like he’s amused and then he’s dragging me further down the bed, lining himself up and thrusting all of his dick inside me.

I let out a cry so loud I don’t doubt the entire house hears.

“Is this what you wanted?” He taunts sliding out before thrusting all the way back into me.

“Yes.” I gasp, clawing at him, digging my nails into his skin. “I need you too…”

“Need me to what Rose?” He says doing it again and I swear I lose my mind.

I wrap my legs around his waist, I gyrate my hips, welcoming every inch he gives me, every merciless thrust.

“Tell me Rose, tell me what you need and I’ll grant it.”

“You.” I cry. “I need you.”

He slides out, and I physically deflate at the loss of him. But he’s rolling me onto my front, lifting my hips up, realigning himself and thrusting back into me.

“Fuck you feel incredible.” He groans, pausing as if it’s almost too much for him to take.

I raise my hips higher, rock them, encouraging him more.

He lets out a chuckle, planting a kiss onto my back. “So needy.” He murmurs.

And then he starts sliding so much deeper into me and I swear my eyes roll back. The sound of our skin slapping against one another fills the air. The sounds of my moans gets higher and higher pitched.

I shudder, I clench around him, coming so hard I think I might pass out.

He pulls himself out, picks me up, places me so I’m straddling him and then he buries himself inside me again.

I’m covered in sweat. My tears are falling, half from pleasure half from how my heart is breaking. He kisses them away, thrusting so deliciously into me and I meet each one, I drive us both to our release while he tells me how beautiful I am, how much he loves me, and how proud he is of me.

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