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The sincerity in his dark-brown eyes terrifies more than his cruelty ever could. I can fight a monster. I know how to hate a captor. But this man who looks at me like I hung the moon, he’s dangerous in ways I don’t have adequate defenses for.
“Roman—”
“Don’t,” he insists softly before stepping closer and crowding me against the window. His lips brush along my ear, and his voice drops to a register that instantly soaks my panties. “Don’t ruin tonight by denying what we both know you want. We both know if I pulled you onto this balcony, you’d eagerly let me slip my fingers back inside you, and that it’d take me all of thirty seconds to have you screaming in pleasure.”
I gasp at his crass vulgarity in this crowded room, my hand flying to his chest to push him away, but when he opens his mouth again, my fingers curl into his lapel instead.
“You’re aching, aren’t you?” he continues, his breath hot against my skin. “I can see it in your eyes. I could fix that tight, desperate ache between your thighs, angel. Just a few simple words and I would slip my hand under this dress to help you.”
My eyes dart across the full ballroom over his shoulder, I can’t stop thinking how good accepting his offer would feel.
“Would you like that? My fingers deep in your needy little cunt, my palm silencing your screams while this room of pretentious assholes sip their champagne mere feet away from where you’re falling apart.”
“Stop,” I try to hiss, but it comes out breathless and needy.
“Or maybe,” he pulls back just enough to meet my gaze, his dark pools wicked with promise, “maybe I’ll tease you until we get home. Keep you begging for hours until you’re so desperate you’d do anything I ask. Would that make you be my good girl?”
Before I can answer—or sort through the riot of confusion and arousal flooding my thoughts—someone clears their throat next to us. Roman turns to greet the silver-haired man behind him. “Governor Whitmore.” Roman drops his chin in acknowledgment as he extends his hand. “Thank you for inviting us. My lovely wife was just admiring the sensational view.”
The governor’s eyes slide to me, and I am overwhelmed with the sudden urge to prove to Roman exactly how wrong he is. He isn’t going to get what he wants from me. He needs to know I’m not some idiot melting under his faux affection and denied orgasms.
“Actually,” I chirp, my tone dripping with sass, “I was just telling Roman how suffocating these events are. All the pretention, people pretending to be important while they ignore the fact that half the city is starving.” I take a deliberately slow sip of champagne, rolling my eyes. “It’s all rather… What’s the word? Obnoxious.”
The governor’s smile falters, and Roman’s fingers tighten painfully at my waist. “Cora,” Roman says, his tone light and indulgent for the governor’s sake, but I immediately note the displeasure beneath it. “Excuse my wife, Governor. I think she may have had a little too much to drink, champagne does go straight to her head.” He laughs charmingly, and the governor relaxes, chuckling along with him.
Roman’s already firm grip tightens on my hip as he steers me away, his smile never wavering as he guides me through the crowd and nods to guests.
“Roman—”
He cuts me off with a look that freezes the blood in my veins. “Not a fucking word.”
When we reach a door off the main hall, he pulls it open and aggressively pushes me inside. The door clicks shut behind us, silencing the gala on the other side and amplifying the rapid pounding of my heart. He rounds me quickly, slamming my back against the door as his calloused fingers wrap around my throat. As much as I expect him to, he doesn’t squeeze. Instead, the pad of this thumb brushes over my racing pulse.
“I don’t know why you feel the need to keep testing me.” His voice is dangerously calm as his dark eyes search mine. “Maybe I should pull you back into that hall and bend you over my knee. Let every powerful man in Chicago watch as I turn that beautiful ass of yours cherry red. Or is that no longer enough to correct you, angel? Maybe you need my cock shoved down your throat to keep that wicked little mouth of yours silent.”
My breath catches in my throat as the humiliating—and obscenely hot—images flash through my thoughts. As much as I should be disgusted and fight, my mouth waters, and the ache between my thighs intensifies to a throbbing, desperate pulse.
“Is that what you want?” he asks, his grip tightening enough to make my head swim. “Do you want me to use you? Show you exactly who you belong to and what kind of man I am capable of being?”
I shake my head, but my body arches into his touch as my lips part on a silent plea.
“You’re such a fucking liar,” he breathes, stepping back and releasing me so suddenly that I stumble. “Get on your fucking knees.”
“What?”
“Now.” He points to the floor.
Trembling, hating myself, and needing him more than I want to keep my pride intact, I sink to my knees. It’s humiliating, and my face flames with shame, even as my pussy clenches with need.
His heated stare not leaving mine, Roman unbuttons his jacket. His belt follows. After unzipping his tuxedo pants, he pulls out his thick, impossibly hard cock, letting it rest in the air inches from my face. “Open,” he commands.
Swallowing what little is left of my pride, I squeeze my eyes shut and open my mouth, waiting for the invasion and the shame of being used while hundreds of people socialize on the other side of the door. But the invasion doesn’t come. I open my eyes to find him watching me, his fingers wrapped tightly around his shaft as he strokes himself from base to tip. My mouth goes dry at the sight, him pleasuring himself above me with precum glistening on his thick tip.
“This is what you do to me.” His words are strained. “Watch me. See how hard I am for you. How much I fucking need you.”
He strokes faster, his fist tight around his length as his hips buck into his hand. “I can’t stop thinking about the taste of your sweet pussy, angel. About how wet you were, or how beautifully you whimpered when I denied you. I want to hear those sounds again, almost as much as I want to hear you beg for my cock.”
I watch him, mesmerized by the most erotic thing I have ever witnessed. The ache between my thighs blooms into a desperate need. I press my thighs together, seeking the friction, but it does nothing. It’s not what I want.
