Page 19 of Forbidden Daddy


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"Nothing’s going to happen to me." I caught his wrist, holding his hand against my face. "We made a deal, Roman."

Something shifted in his expression—surprise, maybe, or something deeper. For a moment, the mask slipped, and I saw the man beneath the monster. The one who was worried about losing the few things that mattered to him.

"You don’t know what you’re saying."

"Yes, I do." I stepped closer, close enough that I could smell his cologne mixed with whiskey and something darker. Something purelyhim. "I’m saying I’m not some fragile flower who’s goingto wilt the first time things get dangerous. I’m saying I’m here, and I’m staying."

His jaw clenched. "This isn’t a game."

"Do I look like I’m playing?"

The air between us crackled with tension, with all the things we weren’t saying. I could see the war playing out in his eyes—the need to protect me warring with something hungrier, something that had been building between us since that first kiss in his office.

"You should let me work," he said, but his hand was still cupping my face, his thumb still stroking across my skin.

"Should I?"

"Yes."

"Then why aren’t you letting me go?"

His control snapped.

One moment I was standing in front of his desk, and the next I was pressed against the wall, his body caging me in. His mouth crashed down on mine with desperate hunger, and I kissed him back just as fiercely, five months of inappropriate fantasies and two days of impossible tension finally finding their outlet.

"You drive me fucking crazy," he growled against my lips, his hands fisting in my hair.

"Good," I gasped, my fingers already working at the buttons of his shirt. "I’d hate to be the only one losing my mind."

His mouth found my throat, tongue marking my pulse point. He left a trail of kisses along my jawline, then captured my lips between his.

This was different from our first time. Less desperate, more claiming. Like he was trying to brand me, to mark me as his in every way.

My skirt rode up as he positioned himself between my thighs, his hands exploring the exposed skin with reverent possession. I could feel the evidence of how much he wanted me pressed against my hip, could see the way his pupils had dilated with need.

"Fuck, Cassie..." he murmured, grinding his hips against mine.

The need in his voice went straight to my core. No one had ever looked at me the way he was now, with pure, animalistic desire.

My fingers found his belt, unfastening it with steady hands.

"If you do that, I’ll fuck you senseless," he warned. "Right here, right now."

"Do your worst."

The belt hit the floor with a clatter, followed by his pants. He was hard and thick, and the size of him made my heart race even faster.

This was happening. Again.

I hooked a leg behind his back and pulled him closer. His fingers slid my panties aside, teasing my wetness, and I clung to his shoulders as he pushed forward, entering me slowly, relentlessly.

I whimpered, the stretch and fullness overwhelming me. Everything felt heightened, the danger of our situation spiking my arousal beyond belief. He gave me a moment to adjust, his lips traveling down my jaw, my throat, before setting a slow, torturous rhythm.

Every thrust was a deliberate invasion, the deliberate claiming of what belonged to him. I trembled in his arms, biting back moans that threatened to give us away to anyone passing by the door.

But I didn’t care. At that moment, with Roman inside me, all I wanted was him.

His tempo increased, the desk groaning under the force of his thrusts. I clung to his shoulders, his fingers digging into my ass with just the right amount of delicious pain.