Page 78 of Dance of Defiance
He takes a shaky, nervous breath as I move closer, until I’m standing right in front of him, looking him in the eye as he looks right back at me with that desperately yearning little look.
I breathe in his scent: citrus and bergamot, with a clean, masculine note swirling through it that ensnares me. I don’t even realize my hand has lifted until my fingers are curling into the collar of his shirt.
A choked sound tumbles from his throat.
You never should have followed me in here, wreckage, I want to scream in his face.You won’t leave here the same as when you walked in.
Roman’s breath catches, his eyes bulging wide as I drag him back toward one of the stalls. He shuffles in after me until we’re both inside, and I’m shutting and locking the door.
The Earth stops rotating as we stand there frozen, staring each other in the eye, breathing each other’s air, our bodies pressed tight together.
I can feel his pulse. Feel the hum of his nerves and the way he trembles.
The way he aches for this.
The way his big cock has swelled so hard in his pants that I feel it twitch against mine.
“Tell me to take control, Roman,” I growl quietly. “Do it. Tell me to fucking take control like we both know you want me to.”
Romanmoans.
“Please,” he chokes, breathing heavily, his muscled chest rising and falling. “Val?—”
“Use your fucking words like a good boy.”
He groans, his breath catching in his throat. His eyes flit across my face, his lips opening and closing. “Please take control,” he finally croaks.
Dark, vicious, all-consuming thunder rumbles inside me.
I’m going to fuckingruinthis man.
“Take your belt off again.”
He sharply sucks in his breath and goes still, his eyes bulging. I smirk as I lean right into his space, breathing in the scent of his skin and the pure need radiating off him.
“Now,” I growl darkly.
Roman’s hands drop to his belt. They shake with nerves or maybe excitement as he quickly unbuckles it and yanks it out of the loops of his pants before handing it to me.
I’m already so fucking hard it hurts.
“On your knees.”
Power surges through me, and dark, needy desire burns into my brain when I see the utter capitulation in his eyes.
I’m not usually this commanding, this dominant. But the deeper we get, I'm realizing that Roman is even more submissive than I originally thought.
More eager. Starving desperately for thisthinghe’s denied himself.
The needier and subbier and more lost he looks, the more I want to fuckingconsume him.
Capture him.
Bend him over right here, right now, and make him shake, whimper, beg, and quiver when I fuck him so hard he seesGod.
But when I see Roman’s throat bob, and the vein in his temple pulse, and then watch him slowly, unblinkingly, drop to his knees in front of me?
It's my turn to be well and truly lost.
