Chapter 49 Don't Stop His other hand slid over my body, splaying over my stomach before moving higher—possessive, greedy. His palm cupped my breast, thumb circling my nipples through my dress until my breath hitched hard. I shoved weakly at his chest. “Please, Roman. Please take me—” “I will,” he cut in, his grip tightening around my breast until my knees went soft. “And I won’t stop until you can’t stand without me holding you up.” He kissed me again, slower this time, deep and deliberate, like he was savoring every second he’d been forced to wait. He pressed me deeper against the wall, hands impatiently tugging my dress up until it rested above my waist. Leaving me bare for him to see. Without breaking contact, his free hand slid down, fingers landing over the heat between my legs. I gasped into his mouth, but he didn’t stop. “That dress was in my way,” he muttered darkly, “Now nothing is.” His knuckles brushed over my sensitive heat, and the sound he made when he felt how dripping I still was, was low, dangerous, and so deep it hit me between my legs. “You’ve been thinking about me too,” he rasped. “I can feel it.” By this time I was writhing, whimpering, moaning mess in his hands. There was only one word my mouth had been conditioned to speak. “Please…” He grinned darkly, “If you insist, love.” Before I could think, he was pulling me flush against the wall, his body heat burning through the fabric of my dress. One leg was hooked over his waist, the other trembling beneath me as he steadied me with firm hands. He pressed his hot erection against me, grinding into me. “You feel that?” he murmured, rolling his hips. “That’s what you’ve been doing to me since the first time. And I’m going to bury it so deep inside you, you’ll forget how to breathe without me.” I let out something that was a mixture of a moan and a gasp, his words hitting deep. His hands gripped my thigh, holding me tight while the other one fumbled with the zipper of his pants, freeing himself with a deliberate slowness that sent my pulse racing. He shoved his pants down just enough, and then he was there—thick, hard, pulsing against me. He didn’t tease. He didn’t ease in. He drove into me with a hungry groan, in one rough, claiming thrust that forced my back harder against the wall and ripped a gasp from my throat. Stars exploded behind my eyes as he filled me completely. My head fell back, lips parting in a loud cry as his hips slammed forward with ruthless power. “I love your body, but it’s more than that. It’s the way you fight your own self, the way you give in anyway. I’ll keep coming back, because I can’t breathe without the way you feel around me.” He grunted. I bit down on my lip until I tasted that familiar coppery flavour. “Fuck,” I whimpered, nails digging into his arms. “Say it again,” he growled, hips snapping into mine. “Say my name when I’m inside you.” “Roman!” I moaned out loud, not caring that my screams could attract someone's attention. “Good girl.” He whispered in my ear, picking up the pace. My hands clawed at the hard planes of his back, digging nails into muscle and skin. His movements were relentless, punishing—each thrust lifting me higher against the wall until I had no choice but to wrap my arms around his neck, clinging like he was the only thing holding me up. The leg that had been steady beneath me betrayed me, turning to jelly, and he caught it easily, wrapping it around his waist. Now both legs were locked tight around him, pressing me flush against the cold wall. . “Every time I close my eyes, I see you under me, on top of me, gasping my name. I’m not done with you, Savannah. Not even close.” His hand slid from my thigh to my throat, not squeezing—just holding, just reminding me he could. “Look at me,” he demanded, his voice sharp enough to slice through the haze. “I want you to see who’s inside you. Who you belong to.” I met his eyes, and the raw heat there made my stomach clench. He kissed me again—messy, hungry, bruising—never slowing his hips.“Don't stop.” I pleaded. “I’m not stopping,” he promised against my mouth. “Not until you can’t think or walk straight. Not until your body forgets every man before me. Not until you remember I’m the only one who can fuck you like this.” Jesus Christ, Roman. Seems like today is the day I die from intense sexual stimulation. Well, if I was allowed to pick a way to go, I'd choose this in a heartbeat. My breath came in ragged gasps, moans escaping despite myself. “Harder,” I begged, voice raw and trembling. He answered with a brutal surge, slamming into me deeper, hands roaming possessively over my body. The world shrank to nothing but heat and sensation, the slick press of skin, the bruising grip of his hands, the filth in his words, the frantic pounding of our hearts. His rhythm was relentless—hard, fast, unforgiving. I was lost—utterly, completely—riding the wild edge of pleasure and pain, my body burning with need.My nails dragged across his clothed back, down to his ass, gripping— fingers squeezing and pulling as he drove into me like a man possessed—desperate to hold on as waves of ecstasy crashed over me. “Roman,” I gasped, voice breaking. “Please—” His lips found mine in a fierce, bruising kiss, swallowing my cries as he drove us both over the edge. When I came apart around him, his hand at my throat held me steady through it, his own release crashing into me with a guttural groan that sounded like my name torn apart. I felt him shoot his seeds deep inside me, warm and thick. A little trickled down my thighs, leaking. And even then, when my body felt completely filled with him and my lungs burned for air, he didn’t let me go. He stayed buried deep, breathing me in like he’d never had enough. We clung together in the quiet aftermath, chests heaving, bodies still humming from the intensity of it all. And when we finally pulled apart, our eyes met in the darkened space. He brushed my hair away from my face, cupping my cheek gently— a sharp contrast to earlier. “I told you,” he murmured, his mouth at my temple, “I’m not done with you, Sav. I never will be.”