There are a hundred and one reasons why Kristen Farrow should resist pursuing a relationship with pop star Roman Dean... But she is drawn to him like a moth to a flame. Upon first glance she is addicted to him, even while knowing that he may some da...
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*Mature language
Roman's long lashes lowered as he tilted his head to hers. He stole her lips in a tongue-thrusting kiss as he ran his hands over her perfect hips. She gripped his damp shirt with her fingers, pulling him closer to her.
Roman unbuckled her bra, letting it drop. He pulled her dress over her head and tossed it to the floor. He gripped her ass with his fingers and effortlessly lifted her, his hands possessively cradling the roundness of her hips. With his lips still pressed to hers he carried her into the living-room.
He dropped her on the part of the couch closest to the window by the balcony and stood up, lifting his shirt over his head. His eyes heatedly locked on hers as he lifted her dainty feet one by one and slid off her sandals.
Kristen lay back against the couch with her hands on either side of her head. Her virginal eyes greedily took him in, lustfully drifting over the perfection of him. The chest hair she'd been fantasizing about was smooth and lay flat over much of his chest, down to his stomach and stopped just above his buckled pants.
His pecs were broad and muscular; his nipples bronze and small. He was perfect. More perfect than she'd ever imagined. She couldn't wait to see what the rest of him looked like.
She dazedly looked up at him, her eyes heavy with lust, her breathing light and choppy. She bit her lip as his eyes peered into hers; then dropped down to her panties.
Roman placed his hand to her panties and seamlessly ripped the silk material, drawing a gasp of surprise from her lips. He hungrily licked his lips and nudged his leg against her knees.
"Open baby," he huskily commanded.
Shaking, Kristen did as she was told and opened wide; giving him a tasty view of the prettiness inside. The moonlight sifting in through the open windows mixed with the dim mood lights streaming from the ceiling above gave him a perfect view.
"Got-damn," he lustfully sighed.
Kristen deliriously moaned and struggled to stay still under the heat of his gaze. The weight of her desire for him was so strong she couldn't even sit up straight. She collapsed against the couch, her arms stretched out at the sides; her fists tightly clenched as she vulnerably sat there. Open. Heaving. Waiting.
"I've been day-dreaming about what you taste like all day," he growled, getting down on his knees. He looked up at her and bent his head, pressing his anxious tongue against her quivering flesh.
Unable to take it, Kristen threw her head back against the couch, closed her eyes and arched her back, loudly crying out to the ceiling. Roman placed his hands beneath her thick bottom and arched her to his ardent mouth, diving in like a man that hadn't been fed in days.
Kristen kept her arms out to the side, gripped the soft cushions of the couch with her fingers, and surrendered her body to him completely, lost in an endless fog of erotic nirvana as Roman Dean did things with his mouth and tongue to her flesh that she'd been fantasizing about for years.
