Page 20 of Snaring Emberly
My mind freezes in the hunger of his gaze. As I shift backward on the seat, Roman dives between my thighs again and lavishes my pussy with an open-mouthed kiss.
The pleasure is so overwhelming and sudden that I collapse back onto the leather seat. All my reservations unfurl and evaporate into the ether. Roman eats me like a starving beast, each swipe of his tongue infusing me with molten fire.
I’m panting, shaking, surrendering to his desire, but just as my pleasure peaks, he withdraws his tongue. My breath hitches. Does this man want to give me a stroke?
His tongue traces a slow, meandering path down my slit, pausing for him to suck each labia. I cry out, overwhelmed with frustration. Why is he switching up the rhythm whenever I get too close?
“Roman.” My voice is a high-pitched whine. “Please, stop teasing.”
He hums against my folds, making me shiver with pleasant vibrations. “But you moan so prettily.”
“You should hear how prettily I moan when I come.”
His deep chuckle sounds almost cruel. All I can say is that this man knows the effect he has on women and loves making me suffer.
“I’m going to enjoy breaking you.” He grabs my ankles, slides his tongue into my pussy, making me cry out.
What does that even mean? I’m already a panting, broken mass of desire.
Roman slides in and out of me with rapid, shallow thrusts. Pleasure builds with each stroke, and my hips rise and shudder in counterpoint to his movements.
I squeeze my eyes shut, press my head back into the leather seat, and gasp. He positions my feet on his shoulders to deepen the angle and pushes in and out of me until I’m crying out his name.
“Oh, god… your mouth,” I moan.
“God has nothing to do with this mouth, but if you carry on being a filthy girl, it will take you to heaven,” he growls.
My clit swells, becoming so sensitive that it twitches with the tiniest gust of cool air from the vents. I raise a hand to touch it, but Roman grabs my wrist.
“I’m the only one who makes you come,” he says, and his tongue thrusts even further.
“But I can’t come like this,” I say between panting breaths.
I feel Roman’s facial muscles forming a smile as though I’ve stated the obvious, and he plans on keeping me on the edge until I either beg or break. He continues those delicious strokes, occasionally bumping my sensitive bundle of nerves with the tip of his nose.
“Please, Roman,” I rasp. “Let me come.”
His satisfied rumble confirms my suspicions. He’s getting off on my desperation just as much as I’m getting off on his skillful tongue.
The limo veers off the highway and ascends an incline, but it may as well be driving me to heaven. Each time his nose grazes my sensitive bundle of nerves, he brings me closer and closer to nirvana.
Pleasure coils within my core, and my walls constrict. I curl my fingers even tighter into his hair and groan.
I have never been with a man with so much self-control. Even when Jim was being nice, he only ever went down on me long enough to warm me up for sex. The few lackluster pumps that followed always left me unsatisfied. Roman is a refreshing upgrade. He’s the kind of man who thinks beyond his own pleasure and doesn’t need to rush.
“That’s it, baby,” he says, his voice wicked and rich and deep. “Let me take you apart.”
“Wh-What?”
His answer is a rumbling laugh that vibrates through my core. Roman keeps me teetering on a delicious precipice, seeming so attuned to my body that he knows exactly when to ease off the pressure.
My throat releases a keening cry.
I love it. I hate it. I can’t get enough of it.
Minutes roll by, maybe even an hour, but I lose track of all my senses, including the passage of time. All I can focus on is holding onto the exquisite pleasure before he lets it slip away.
Roman lavishes my clit with gentle suction before pulling back. In the absence of pleasure, my eyes snap open. I blink away the haze on the edges of my vision and focus on his face.