Page 72 of Hate On

“Hey!” She jabbed him with her free hand. “I’ve gotten better, thank you.”

“And who all have you been practicing with?” he teased. “If you’ve gotten better at strip poker?”

“Ha, ha.” She turned her face to kiss him, but he slid lower, evading her.

“Try again.”

“Want to give me a…hint?” Julianna’s breathing hitched as he moved lower, his lips pausing to encircle one nipple. He tugged on it, drawing it away from her body, scoring it with his teeth before slowly releasing it.

“Well, it does involve you being naked.”

“Hmm…strip charades, then?”

He laughed as he moved on down to her navel. “No, baby. No cards, no charades. Just you and me, naked…maybe this will help.”

He pressed his mouth to the wet, slick folds between her thighs and listened to her ragged intake of breath. When she breathed out, it was a moaning sigh of his name.

She tugged her hand free of his and shoved both hands into his hair, arching up to meet him.

He cupped her butt in his hands, tilting her up to better meet his mouth.

Her taste was a seduction, salty-sweet and intoxicating. He flicked at her clit with his tongue, then caught it between his teeth and tugged. She whimpered so he did it again, and again, until she was rocking up in a ragged rhythm, driving her hips against his face and pressing him more tightly to her.

He loved it. He loved everything about it, from the way she drove her heels into the mattress for better leverage to the way her head thrashed on the pillow.

Tearing his mouth away, he stared up at her.

“Don’t stop,” she said, whimpering.

“I want to see you,” he said. And he feasted on her with his eyes. She was so beautiful. The pendant he’d given her lay between her breasts, glittering in the faint light. Her nipples were tight and swollen, lifted to the ceiling, her breasts rising and falling with each ragged gasp of air.

“Roman…”

He lowered his mouth back to her cunt and pressed on, adding two fingers to her sheath and twisting his wrist as he thrust inside her.

She bounced up, thrusting against him hard and fast. “Yes!”

He did it a second time and she started to come.

He kept working her until the climax ended. Once she was still, panting for air, he climbed up her body and kissed her. “We’re not done yet,” he muttered against her lips.

“I am,” she said, groaning. “You almost killed me.”

“Let me bring you back,” he told her. And he started all over again, kissing her nape, catching one nipple, then the other between his lips.

It didn’t take long for reaction to settle in, then she was writhing against him as he settled his hips between her thighs. The wet, waiting folds of her pussy caressed him as she rocked against him and he swore, clenching his teeth against the urge to come right then and there.

Reaching between them, he grabbed his cock and aimed, head poised at the heart of her.

“Now, Roman,” she demanded.

He wasn’t about to argue. With a thrust of his hips, he buried himself inside her. She cried out, twining her legs around his hips, hooking her ankles together behind his ass. He withdrew slightly, then sank back inside, shuddering at the feel of her.

She tightened her ankles, dragging him back inside her and arching up to grind against him as if she just couldn’t get enough.

He understood how she felt.

He’d never get enough of her.