Platonically In Love by Lea Allan

Author:Lea Allan [Allan, Lea]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Independent
Published: 2023-05-30T16:00:00+00:00

8

ROMAN

The hand tugging erratically stills and the other releases my balls to press on my chest. I can feel my heartbeat through the thin cotton, thumping as violently under my skin as it does in my ear drums. A pounding so loud that I can almost convince myself I have misheard. He can’t seriously be asking if I want him to touch me. Can he?

“I won’t offer again, Rome. You want my hand; you tell me now.” Okay, so maybe he can. And he is. But I can’t let him. Can I?

He closes the distance between us slowly, as if scared I might flee, and the scent of lavender becomes stronger with each step around the coffee table. I grip my base tightly and groan, pleading with my body to hold it together. But he smells so fucking good. Makes my dick throb.

“And here I thought I could do with a shower,” he winks. Stupid lips spilling all my secrets. “What are you thinking about, Rome?” He comes to a stop in front of me and balances one knee on the couch beside my own, the leather squeaking under his weight. Leaning forward until his body crowds over me without actually making contact, he finally glances down at my lap. “My hand instead of yours?” He leans closer again, his lips inches from my ear. “My mouth?”

My hips involuntarily punch up at the pass of his tongue that punctuates his words, a light caress that follows the curve of my ear. He smirks down at me, cocking one eyebrow. “Little eager, aren’t we? Gonna come before I even get my hands on you?”

Holy shit. I’ve never seen this side of him and I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t one hell of a surprise. I’ve put a lot of thought into what he might be like in bed but never did I foresee the taunting, self-assured man currently looming over my trembling frame. I assumed he would be more of an obedient bottom. One of those closet cases who are so stoic and uptight day-to-day that they like to be ordered around behind closed doors. In every one of my fantasies, he’s bent over my dining table, my bed, my car, a workout bench at the gym…the list goes on, covering any flat surface my depraved mind could conjure up. Looking at him now, I’m not sure my thoughts have been accurate. Hell, does he even bottom?

Emmett barks out a surprised laugh, a sign that word vomit has struck once again. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

I somehow manage to find my voice. “Yeah, I would.” My forwardness catches him off guard, his eyebrows raising slightly and his lips parting as he darts his tongue out. It helps me find my footing in this otherwise foreign situation, and I find myself asking: “Is that what you’d want, Em? Or would you prefer to bury yourself deep inside of me?”

I don’t know what motivates me to be so direct, but I realize the dynamic comes naturally with Emmett.

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