Page 72 of Twisted Violet

I stare into his eyes and feel something low and hot bloom in my stomach.

“Yes.”

That’s all it takes.

He picks me up, spins me around, and bends me over the island, one hand fisting in my hair, the other dragging down my spine until I’m arching into him.

“Look at you,” he grits out. “Covered in sugar. So fucking sweet. So fuckingmine.”

He pulls his cock free, and thrusts into me in one hard, punishing stroke.

I cry out, my hands scrambling for purchase against the countertop as he drives into me again. And again. The edge of the island digs into my hips, but I don’t care. I want the pain. I want the pleasure. I wanthim.

Every thrust feels like a claim, like he’s marking me from the inside out.

He leans over my back, tongue licking up my neck as he grinds deep.

“You think I haven’t noticed?” he growls. “Every time you walk into a room. Every time you smile at someone else. You’re driving me fucking insane.”

I moan, too far gone to answer. My legs are shaking, slick with sweat and sugar and want.

His hand moves between my legs, fingers finding my clit, rubbing hard, fast, in time with his thrusts.

“Come for me,” he commands. “Right now. All over mycock, Violet.”

And I do.

My body seizes, and a scream tears from my throat as I shatter around him, muscles clenching, vision going white. He follows with a curse and a groan, spilling inside me as he buries himself to the hilt, both of us gasping, trembling.

I don’t speak, I can’t, not yet.

I just stay there, wrecked, with his chest pressed to my back and our bodies still joined.

In the quiet that follows, the only sound is our breathing. Ragged, shallow, andreal.

Then he shifts behind me.

I expect him to pull away, to leave me standing here, bent over the counter, ruined and shaking.

Instead, his arms wrap around me from behind, lifting me up like I weigh nothing.

“Rome-”

“Don’t.” His voice is low, possessive, final. “I’m not done with you.”

He carries me out of the kitchen like a man possessed.

No towel. No clothes. Just powdered sugar on my chest, his cum dripping down my thigh, and his arms locked tight around me like I’m something precious he’s stolen and has no intention of giving back.

The air shifts as we pass down the hall. Cooler, quieter, darker.

My head rests against his shoulder, but my heart is racing, every nerve still raw and alive.

When we reach his room, he kicks the door open and strides inside without hesitation.

And I know, whatever just happened in that kitchen?

Was just the beginning.