Chapter 17 Tonight You're Completely Mine
WARNING: MATURE CONTENT
The silk nightgown disappeared over her head in one fluid motion. Roman hooked his fingers into her lacey underwear and dragged it down her legs. His hands traced every inch of her skin as he slowly kissed his way down her body—her collarbone, the curve of her breasts, her trembling stomach, each kiss slower than the last.
Evelyn closed her eyes as she breathed heavily from the overwhelming sensation.
When he finally settled between her thighs, he gently coaxed them apart. Evelyn's legs instinctively tried to close, but his warm palms held them steady.
"Be good for me darling," he said, his voice filled with desire as he looked up at her flushed face.
His large hands slid along her inner thighs, thumbs stroking soothing circles on her sensitive skin. "Let your husband see how beautiful you are."
The intimate words sent heat coursing through her veins. Trembling, she allowed him to part her legs, her breath catching at the look of pure hunger that crossed his features.
"That’s my good girl," he growled in approval, and then his mouth was on her. Eating her slowly.
The sensation was overwhelming. Evelyn could no longer suppress the sounds escaping her lips as pleasure built impossibly quickly, her hips bucking off the bed within seconds.
He pinned her gently with one forearm across her hips, the other hand sliding two thick fingers inside her without warning.
Evelyn cried out, her back arching, her fingers threading tightly through his hair.
He crooked his fingers perfectly, stroking a sensitive spot deep within her that made stars burst behind her eyelids, while his tongue circled her clit in relentless circles.
Her lips parted as she screamed silently, her head rolling back. Pleasure crashed over her in waves; she came hard with a broken sob of his name, thighs tightening around his head.
But he didn't stop.
He coaxed her through the aftershocks, drawing out every tremor until she was writhing, oversensitive and pleading—until a second, shattering climax tore through her, leaving tears on her lashes and his name a desperate prayer on her lips.
Only then did he rise above her, quickly shedding his clothes impatiently. The sight of him—powerful, masculine, completely aroused—made her breath catch.
He positioned himself above her, his eyes locked intensely on hers.
"Look at me," he commanded softly.
Her heavy-lidded eyes met his.
He searched her face. "Tell me you want this. Tell me you want your husband."
Evelyn swallowed hard, her hands trembling against his chest. "I... I want..." The words felt stuck.
He brushed his thumb gently across her lower lip. "Say it, sweetheart. Say ‘I want you, husband.’ That's all I need to hear."
The word husband from her mouth would break him, and he knew it.
Taking a shaky breath, she whispered, "I want you... husband."
The word seemed to shatter his control completely.
Roman claimed her mouth in a deep, hungry, possessive kiss. His tongue explored every corner as she melted beneath him, making soft sounds that drove him wild.
When he broke away to trail his mouth down her throat and close his lips around one tight nipple, she arched desperately. "Roman—"
"Say it again," he demanded against her skin.
“H-husband…” she gasped.
He rewarded her with a slow, teasing swirl of his tongue before shifting lower, parting her thighs wider.
He lined himself up, the broad head of his cock nudging her entrance, then pushed inside slowly, inch by torturous inch, letting her feel every part of him. He stretched her deliciously, filling her completely.
Evelyn held her breath as she moaned loudly.
Roman stilled, his forehead pressed to hers as he fought for control. "Breathe, love. You're taking me so perfectly."
When her body softened, accepting him fully, he began to move—long, deep strokes that built gradually into a steady, powerful rhythm. The headboard tapped the wall in time with her rising cries and his ragged groans.
He drove her to the brink again and again, slowing whenever she neared the edge, until she was clawing at his back, begging incoherently.
"Please… Roman… I need—"
“Come for me, wife,” he rasped against her lips, thrusting hard and deep.
She shattered, clenching around him in pulsing waves that dragged him over with her.
He buried himself to the hilt with a deep groan, spilling hot inside her as her name tore from his throat.
Afterward, he held her close, rolling so she lay draped across his chest, their legs tangled, hearts thundering together.
But the hunger in his eyes hadn’t faded.
Moments later he shifted over her again, sweat-slick and breathless, dragging the head of his cock through her soaked folds, coating himself in their combined release.
Evelyn whimpered at the teasing glide.
“Look at you,” he said hoarsely. “So wet for your husband you’re dripping down my cock.”
He pressed forward—just the tip—stretching her open once more.
Her breath caught; nails dug into his shoulders.
“Eyes on me,” he ordered softly.
She met his gaze, tears of overwhelming sensation gathering.
“Tell me who you belong to.”
“You,” she gasped. “Only you—Roman—”
“Say it properly.”
“H-husband.”
The word snapped his restraint.
With one deep, claiming thrust he seated himself fully inside her.
Evelyn cried out, back bowing as the sudden fullness stole her breath.
He was huge—incredibly huge, every thick inch of him branded her from the inside.
He set a relentless pace—hard, deep strokes that drove the air from her lungs in broken moans.
“Feel that?” he groaned, angling to hit even deeper. “That’s your husband claiming what’s his. Every inch of you is mine now, Lyn.”
“Again,” he demanded, thumb circling her swollen clit. “Who do you belong to?”
“You—” she sobbed, teetering on the edge. “Only you—Roman—please—”
The room filled with the slick sounds of their bodies, her breathless cries, his low, filthy praises.
“Come for me, wife. Take everything your husband gives you.”
The command sent her spiraling. She came with a sharp cry, clenching around him so tightly his rhythm stuttered.
Roman snarled, pounding through her climax until his own release hit—hot, pulsing deep inside her as he groaned her name.
They collapsed together, trembling, rose petals crushed beneath them, skin glistening with sweat.
He stayed buried inside her, arms caging her protectively, forehead resting against hers as their breathing slowly evened.
After a long, quiet moment, he brushed damp strands from her face and whispered, voice soft and reverent, “Look at me, Mrs. Sinclair.”
She opened tear-bright eyes.
“You’re mine,” he said, pressing a tender kiss to her swollen lips. “Legally, physically, and soon... completely in every way that matters.”
And in that moment, wrapped safely in his arms, she felt completely claimed — body, heart, and soul.