Craving My Ruthless Ceo novel Chapter 58

Chapter 58: Is this slick heat for me

Anna’s POV

The moment Roman’s lips crashed against mine, I should have been upset. I should have pushed him away, slapped him, demanded to know what on earth he thought he was doing.

But I didn’t.

Because the instant his mouth met mine, fireworks exploded behind my closed eyelids.

When his tongue pushed past my lips, exploring and claiming, I fought at first. My hands pressed weakly against his chest in a half-hearted protest we both knew was a lie. Then I melted completely against him. Goodness, he tasted like aged whiskey. Like every forbidden fantasy I’d ever typed onto my laptop screen in the dead of night when thoughts of him kept me awake and aching.

I’d written this scene so many times. Variations of Roman pinning me against various surfaces, his desk, the elevator wall, the large windows of his office.

My body would burn with need as I typed out the filthy details. The feel of his hands on bare skin. His cock pushing inside. I’d always wanted to touch myself while writing those scenes.

But every time I’d considered sliding my hand between my legs, shame would flood through me.

I always felt ashamed because I was the nerdy girl who hid behind oversized sweaters and avoided mirrors. The idea of touching myself, of exploring my own body, felt too vulnerable. Too exposing.

So I’d written instead. Poured all that desperate need into words on a page. Created a version of myself who was confident and sexual and unashamed.

But nothing I’d created in my fevered imagination prepared me for this version of Roman, the man who was always so controlled, so stoic, now demanding to know the filthy thoughts in my mind.

How could he read me so perfectly? It should have embarrassed me. Instead, it turned me on even more.

The word felt dirty in my mouth. Shameful. Something a proper assistant would never say to her boss. But he wanted to see that side I kept locked away, the version that existed only in fiction.

I bit my lip, my face burning. I wanted to be brave enough to ask for what my body was screaming for. But the words felt stuck in my throat, tangled up with embarrassment and inexperience I couldn’t let him see.

His fingers slid into my hair, tilting my head back so I had to meet his eyes.

Unable to hold back, my eyes met his and the words tumbled out in a mortified gasp. “Suck my… my tits.”

The silence that followed felt like an eternity.

Then his dark chuckle vibrated against my skin, sending heat straight to my core.

“There she is,” he murmured, satisfaction coating every word. “My dirty girl who hides behind cardigans and coffee runs. Who knew such filthy words lived in that pretty mouth?”

Before I could respond or die of embarrassment, his mouth closed over my nipple.

The sensation made me cry out. His tongue swirled around the tight peak before his teeth trapped it, applying just enough pressure to blur the line between pleasure and pain. My hips bucked forward involuntarily. His other hand worked my neglected breast, rolling and tugging the nipple with devastating precision. “Mr. Blackwood!” The sound that tore from my throat was high-pitched and desperate. “Oh goodness… oh…” I’d never made sounds like this before. Never known my voice could break that way, turn that needy and uninhibited. It should have mortified me, but I couldn’t stop. Each stroke of his tongue, each tug of his fingers pulled more broken moans from somewhere deep inside me.

I felt his eyes on my face and realized I was biting my lip hard, trying to muffle the sounds.

His thumb hooked into my mouth, pulling my bottom lip free from between my teeth. “Don’t you dare hide those sounds from me. I want to hear every moan, every whimpar, every scream when I make you come.”

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Chapter 58: Is this slick heat for me

My eyes were glazed, my mind foggy with lust I’d never experienced before. This was nothing like the abstract arousal I felt while writing. This was consuming. Overwhelming.

“But we need to get something straight,” he continued, his voice rough as gravel. “When I’m doing filthy things to your body, you don’t call me Mr. Blackwood.”

“What?” Confusion cut through the haze of desire.

He soothed my abused nipple with gentle circles that made me shudder. “Mr. Blackwood is for the office. For business meetings. Not for when I have your tits in my mouth.”

His thumb traced my swollen lip. “Say my name. Just my name.”

My breathing was ragged, my chest heaving. “Roman.”

“Good girl.”

He kissed between my breasts, dragging his mouth lower and lower until he reached where the dress bunched at my waist. His fingers hooked into the fabric, trying to shove it down over my hips.

The dress didn’t budge. It was trapped, stuck against my skin.

He tugged harder, frustration evident in the tense line of his shoulders.

“Goodness, this dress,” he muttered against my stomach. “I’m tempted to rip it off you. I’m desperate to see all of you.”

Panic flared through the arousal. “Don’t. I like it.”

He lifted his head, eyes locking onto mine. A slow, wicked smirk curved his lips.

“I’ll respect your wishes,” he murmured, his voice dropping to something darker. “And find another way.”

His hands slid underneath the bunched fabric, fingers trailing up the inside of my thighs from beneath the dress.

My breath caught as his touch moved higher, teasing and exploring. Each caress sent sparks of electricity shooting through my nerve endings.

His fingertips were rough and warm, sliding against my skin in a way that made my thoughts scatter.

His fingers traced lazy patterns on my inner thighs, moving closer and closer to where I needed him most.

The anticipation was torture. My legs trembled, threatening to give out.

“Spread your legs for me.”

Shock rippled through me at the command.

“Oh… I didn’t…” The words cut off in my throat as realization hit.

That’s when I realized how tightly I’d been clenching my thighs together, instinctively trying to protect myself from the vulnerability of being touched.

Heat flooded my face as I slowly let my legs part. The movement felt awkward and exposing. Every muscle in my body screamed with shyness.

“Good girl.”

The praise sent a shock of pleasure straight through me, making my core clench with need.

The moment his fingers brushed the lace, I knew he could feel how soaked I was. Knew there was no hiding how desperately my body wanted this.

“Damn,” he groaned, his fingers tracing my slit through the drenched fabric. “You’re dripping for me.”

A gasp tore from my throat, my hips jerking forward without permission. The friction of his fingers against the wet lace sent sparks of pleasure racing through me.

Then he asked that question. The one that should have made me furious.

“Is this slick heat wet for me, Anna, or were you this soaked when Laurent was grinding against you on that dance floor?”

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