Resilient Reign by Aleatha Romig

Author:Aleatha Romig [Romig, Aleatha]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Romig Works

Lucille

“I’d planned to let you sleep,” Roman said, teasing my long tresses away from my face. “Now, I want you awake.”

“I want to be awake.”

“It’s been a long day.”

I palmed his cheeks. “If Your Highness is willing, I’m ready for a longer night.”

“No man in his right mind would say no to that.”

“Are you in your right mind?” I asked teasingly.

“Obviously, not.” His lips met mine. “I’m still willing.”

With the weight of his body over mine, I stretched my neck, bringing our lips together as our bodies came to life.

In the last few months, Roman had done more than return my feelings of pride, admiration, and attraction. He’d awakened a feral desire that left me continually longing for his touch.

The fresh scent of soap surrounded us as our skin warmed, leaving us slick with perspiration and desire. The mint of toothpaste awakened our tastebuds as our tongues danced a tango of giving and taking. My lips would be bruised in the best of ways. Undeterred, I pushed back, giving as much as I was getting.

The way Roman’s hands possessively caressed as they roamed over my skin heated my circulation. His intimate presence was like the striking of flint against steel, sparking flames to life. In what had been dry, infertile ground, buds were sprouting, the bursting open of pine cones, only doable by intense heat.

A wildfire of epic proportion.

The flames consumed us, burning away our unfamiliarity and leaving us in ashes of intimacy. We moved in sync as if tuned into one another’s desires.

There was no need to think, to consciously tell myself what to do. Those days were gone. Within me, every molecule reacted as endorphins flooded my bloodstream. Nerves and synapses sparked as sensations detonated from my scalp to my toes.

I was alive in a way I’d never been.

A ravenous carnivore desperate to survive.

Feral.

Wild.

Primal.

Untamed.

Being with this man tore down my carefully constructed walls of isolation. In his presence was where I wanted to be—morning, daytime, and nighttime. Ours was a connection I’d only dared dream could exist.

Piece by piece, our articles of clothing disappeared within the sheets or onto the floor. Their destinations weren’t our concern. Instead, it was the unquenchable hunger to be skin on skin. Disrobing one another was not a one-man job as we both tore at buttons and lifted satin material over each other’s heads.

My fingertips ran over the indentations of his muscular shoulders and down his toned back and firm buttocks. Such as an unseeing person, I sought to read Roman Godfrey with braille. I wished to touch every centimeter from his salt-and-pepper locks to his strong thighs, lingering on places in between.

His erection swelled under my touch. The velvety skin stretched as I ran my fingers over the slick tip. We moved and rolled to better give and take.

The days of dutiful missionary sex were a distant memory.

Unhindered by protocol or conditioning, I licked the saltiness of his skin and tasted the sultry flavor of his essence. In his embrace I was both predator and prey.

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