Page 26 of Twisted Violet (Lovesick Villains #4)

TWENTY-FIV E

VIOLET

I kill the mixer and cough as a puff of powdered sugar explodes into the air around me. My face is a mess. The counter’s worse. I probably look like I crashed into a bakery.

I reach for a kitchen towel, muttering under my breath. “Okay, yeah… maybe add the milk before you mix the sugar next time.”

I’m just about to clean when I hear it.

The heavy thud of footsteps. Fast. Purposeful.

I turn, expecting to see Dallas, or maybe Niko, awakened by the noise.

But it’s neither of them. It’s Rome. And he looks… wild .

His chest is rising, his jaw is tight, and his eyes are burning like I’ve never seen them before. He’s already moving toward me, heat rolling off him in waves.

There’s something in his expression I can’t name, something dangerous and hungry and completely untethered.

“Rome?” I ask, voice catching in my throat. “I was just baking- sorry about the mess, I’ll clean it-”

He shakes his head once.

Sharp. Final. And then he’s on me.

I don’t even get the chance to take a step back. His mouth crashes onto mine, hot and demanding, and I gasp as his hands grip tightly around my waist.

My back hits the kitchen island with a thud and I feel the cool granite against my skin as Rome’s body presses into mine, all hard muscle and searing heat.

He kisses like he’s starving. Like he’s been holding back for too long and something inside him finally snapped.

I whimper when his tongue sweeps into my mouth, when his teeth graze my bottom lip like he wants to mark me from the inside out.

“You have no idea,” he growls against my mouth, “what you do to me.”

His hands slide under my thighs, lifting me like I weigh nothing, setting me on the edge of the counter. Powdered sugar sticks to my legs, my arms, his skin. He doesn’t care. He licks it off of me like it’s holy.

His mouth drags down my neck, rough and wet, and I tilt my head to give him more, my body already shaking from the intensity.

“You smell like vanilla,” he groans, voice ragged. “Fuck, of course you do.”

I claw at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin. He pulls it off in one fluid motion and tosses it across the room. His hands find the waistband of my shorts and yank them down. My panties follow, ripped halfway, the fabric stretching before giving way.

I gasp. “Rome-”

“Do you want this?” He asks, going eerily still.

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 fucking mine. ”

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 want him .

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 my cock, 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, and real .

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.