Page 217 of Hate to Love You

“You like that, baby?” He slaps again, causing my hips to jerk as my head tips back on a moan.

“Oh fuck!”

“That’s right, such a good fucking girl,” he growls, as he rubs against my clit. “So fucking responsive.”

I tug at his dress shirt, wanting to feel his skin beneath mine, as he slowly presses a finger inside me, curling it gently.

Distracted by the ecstasy, my fingers fumble the buttons, and with a growl of frustration, I tear his shirt open.

He inserts another finger, and then another, working them in tandem, his pace increasing as I feel myself getting closer and closer.

“More,” I gasp, my thighs quivering as I feel my pussy clench against him. “I want more.”

“You want my cock?”

I nod, “Yes.”

His fingers curl, hitting that sweet spot inside me, “where do you want it?”

Fuck. Everywhere. I want it everywhere.

I want him in my mouth, I want to taste him on my tongue… but my need to have him inside me overrides that, his thumb pressing down on my clit, my brain short circuiting.

“My pussy,” I shout, feeling lightheaded.

“Take it out, Foxy,” he breathes, his own voice trembling.

Yanking his zipper down, I slip my hand into his waistline, gripping his erection in my hand.

His cock is smooth, the veins defined under my palm. I pump him once, then twice as my other hand tugs his clothing down, hearing him groan.

“Holy fuck,” he mutters under his breath.

Feeling him shaking under my hands, his legs clench tightly as he tries to steady himself. I lean forward, locking my eyes with his as I intentionally let my spit drip down onto the head of his cock. He groans louder as I continue to pump him, my other hand rubbing up the center of his chest, feeling his heart pounding.

And then, without warning, I stab my nails into his pec, scratching my way down, feeling him wince as his cock jerks in my hand.

His control snaps as he grabs my hand on his cock, his other wrapping round my neck, slamming me back against the workbench. He steps further into me, knocking my knees open as he rubs the head of his cock against my clit. My body trembles, as his eyes lock on mine, his hand tightening around my throat.

As I feel the head of his cock at my entrance, I run my hand across his hip, my nails scratching as they go, leaving another mark on his beautiful skin.

“Go on, Roman,” I smile, biting my lip. “Fuck me like you mean it.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

ROMAN

I grip Abby’s hips, thrusting into her hard.

Possibly too hard.

“Fuck!” She cries, as I pull out and ram into her again.

I know I should calm down, but I can’t.

I’m tired of playing nice.

She breathes in sharply with every thrust of my cock. Her eyes are closed, and her hands grip my shoulders, as if she is holding on for dear life.