His eyes rolled back, and I didn’t know if it was from my words or the fact that I had my thumb rubbing over the tip, taking in some of the pre-cum.
“Fuck, baby. Are you sure?”
“Positive,” I groaned.
He always ate me out as if he couldn’t get enough of me, but he never once asked me to return the favor. I really wanted him in my mouth. I really wanted him to fuck me like that.
He sat up suddenly, and I blinked up at him as he climbed out of the bed and pulled the sheets away from me, exposing my naked body to his gaze.
His dark eyes took me in with an expression I knew well.
I felt a shiver of fear and a whole slew of excitement from the look alone.
He pulled me up until I was kneeling on the bed. He quickly shoved his boxer briefs down carelessly, and kicked them away before turning back to me.
Fuck, but he was a work of art.
His body was well sculpted with ropes upon ropes of muscle encased in colorful, inked skin that I couldn’t get enough of, even with all the hair covering it.
I didn’t think I had ever been with anyone who had so much body hair, and that was probably because any boy I had been with before Roman had been just that—aboy.
There was Rhett, my high school boyfriend, and there were some dates in college that never went beyond a bit of rubbing over the clothes.
Roman was all man, and he was all mine.
“I own you, don’t I?” I asked.
He growled, the sound both possessive and animalistic.
“Every fucking inch,” he said, moving closer to me.
I smiled slightly at that and let my eyes trail down his body again.
His cock jutted between us, angry looking. I licked my lips at the sight.
He groaned and pulled on my hair roughly.
“Wait,” I called out. I reached over to my bedside table and grabbed a breath mint I had put in the drawer last week. Roman liked to wake me up with sex, and most of the time, he didn’t let me brush my teeth until after.
I was not going to kiss him with hangover breath.
He watched me with some amusement as I popped it into my mouth.
His eyes caught something else in the drawer. They narrowed as he reached for it, holding it out in front of him.
“Baby? What’s this?”
“My birth control,” I said, daring him to say anything about it.
He hadn’t worn a condom since the first time, and just because he wasn’t concerned about a baby didn’t mean I wasn't.
I had gone to the doctor to get on the pill and did a pregnancy test while he was working one day. I wasn’t pregnant, thank God, and I didn’t plan on getting pregnant anytime soon.
He rolled his eyes and dropped the pills back into the drawer.
I poked my tongue out at him, and he retaliated by gripping my nipple roughly between his fingers.
I groaned and grabbed his wrist, though I didn’t pull him away.
