A Gorgeous Villain (St. Mary's Rebels 2)

“I’ve been…” he says again in that low voice. “I didn’t… I didn’t think that you’d ever call me that. I thought…”

“You thought what?”

His eyes pierce into mine, so many emotions running through them, and his Adam’s apple jerks. “I thought that I’d lost it. Lost the privilege of you calling me that.”

My hands fly to his face then, my palms rubbing his stubble. “You didn’t. You didn’t lose it.”

His jaw tics under my palm, his eyes burning me. “Say it again.”

Tears prick my eyes but I blink and obey him. “Roman.”

“Again.”

“Roman.”

“Again.”

“Roman.”

But this time, I don’t stop. I chant it for him, so he can absorb it, the name that I gave him two years ago. So he can tuck it inside all his empty spaces.

So this name that I gave him in love warms him up.

It warms his winter blood, his chilled bones, his cold soul.

I chant it until I can’t anymore.

Because his mouth is covering me. Because his mouth is drinking that name from my lips, swallowing it down like an elixir. An antidote to all the hurt, the pain inside of him.

And then he isn’t kissing me anymore.

He’s broken that kiss and left me to get rid of his jeans. And again, he’s done it all so fast and yet so slow that by the time he gets back to me and settles himself over me again, I’m hurting.

My lust is hurting me.

It’s hurting him too, but still he frames my face in his large hands and stares into me. “I don’t… I don’t have a condom. I didn’t exactly plan this. But if you need me to, Fae, I’ll go get some, okay? I’ll —”

I shake my head, clutching onto his muscled obliques, rubbing my heels over the backs of his naked thighs. “I don’t care. I don’t want anything between us.”

God, not anymore. I’m tired of being apart from him.

But he has more to say. He has more to tell me when I want him inside of me.

“I’m still cl —”

I put my hand on his lips then. “I know.”

We’re way, way past that now.

And he’s relieved to see that bit of trust in my eyes because his breaths puff out on my palm and then he does what I’ve been wanting him to do for weeks now.

He fucks me.

Or prepares to.

Staring into my eyes, he grips his cock and lines it up with my core before dipping his slippery head in. I grip his shoulders and wait for him to breach me, and in the next breath, he does.

Not all the way though.

Like he did the last time, all blind and raging in his jealousy.

He gives me only an inch but even that stretches me out. Even that makes me throw my head back and moan, makes my thighs slip around his hips.

Reed pulls out then, grunting, and on his next push, gains another inch.

Another inch that makes me moan and stretches me out like a rubber band. So much so that I take my hand off his shoulder and bite on my finger.

I take it between my teeth and bite on it hard, trying to adjust to the pain, to the largeness of him, the girth and the width.

My villain’s invasion.

But as always, Reed doesn’t like it when I bite or claw on things when I’m uncomfortable.

Especially when that discomfort is something he thinks he’s responsible for.

So breathing heavily, still half stuck out of my body, he makes me take my finger out of my mouth and gives me his. He gives me his thumb, and as always I latch onto it like it’s my lifeline.

I grab his wrist with both hands and suck on his thumb, bite on it, and just like that my pain goes away.

His magical, fascinating hand makes everything easier.

He pulls out again, his body vibrates before pushing back in. All the way in.

And the stretch is not so bad.

The stretch is sweet.

So sweet that I suck on his thumb harder and I arch myself under him and open my legs wider. I stretch them on either side of his body, like I’m doing a split, getting ready to spin on my toes and dance for him.

He gets so deep that I feel him in my pregnant womb and the moan that I emit is my loudest so far.

But I’m not alone.

He makes noises too.

Especially when he watches my big lusty blue eyes staring up at him and my pink lips sucking on his digit.

A long growl escapes him as he drops down on me, not all the way though. He’s careful of the baby but enough that his forehead falls on the crook of my neck.

But I’ve gotten so messy now, so wet between my legs that I don’t feel any pain, only delicious pleasure when he starts to move and sets up a rhythm.