Given the barely banked rage evident in the tense bunch of Rohan's shoulders, the feeling was mutual. Hopefully, he'd show no mercy in orgasm form and not body count, though I couldn't promise the same right now.
I bit his earlobe, wanting to hurt him. Cuntessa de Spluge purred darkly.
Rohan shot me a cavalier smile in response. Holy fuck. My knees buckled.
The sprint to my room was a blur.
The second the door slammed shut behind us, Rohan edged his face in close to mine, his palm ghosting my cheek in the barest caress that sent slivery shimmers tumbling through me.
I raised my fingers to my mouth, not realizing what I'd done or that I ran them over my lips until Rohan tracked the movement, his eyes glittering dangerously.
His tongue flicked out, wetting his lower lip. He swayed in toward me and –
"No." Taking his hands in mine, I forced them behind me. Forced him to hold me there, his rings biting into my skin. Forced him to make a decision; play by my rules or go.
Alea iacta est. For better or for worse, the die was cast.
The deep raw groan in the back of his throat was his acquiescence. He walked us over to the bed, the two of us stumbling across the carpet until the mattress hit the back of my legs.
I smiled in triumph, pressing my lips against the soft hollow of his throat and suckling the sensitive skin. The press of his body against my front was positively nuclear, but the laugh track of a Czech TV program next door, audible through the thin walls, jarred me. "Next time install me in a better class of room," I said.
"Worried people will hear us?"
"Only if you make me scream." He'd released my hands, so I wormed them under his sweater, my fingers splayed against the hard ridges of his abs.
"Like that's not a given."
I laughed.
"You doubt me?" His hand tangled in my hair and he tilted my head to nip my collarbone. He made a low sound that thrummed through him.
And me. My pulse kicked up in response. Perched on the edge of the bed, I peeled off his sweater, taking the white T-shirt underneath with it. Rohan's body was a work of art: lithe, sculpted, and mouthwatering. I ran my hands over his biceps and around his back to between his shoulders where he had a tattoo of the word "Kshatriya," the warrior caste, scripted in Hindi in midnight black ink. I placed my mouth to his nipple, swirling my tongue, sinking into the familiar taste of him.
Rohan sucked in a breath. He hooked his fingers into the hem of my shirt, rolling it up my sides, buttons popping as the fabric edged up, tracing slow zigzags along my skin. Snapping open my front clasp bra, his calloused hands teased my nipples, giving me a sandpapery spike of pleasure.
Dizzy, my head lolled back, my hair sweeping my shoulder blades. My lids fell half-shut, heat slid down to my stomach. I rolled the heel of my palm over his hard cock. "I love feeling you hard," I sighed.
He nudged my skirt up to my waist. "Allow me to return in kind." His voice rasped against my skin.
I rocked against him. "It might take a while."
"That would be a shame."
"Huh?"
His right hand cupped the back of my neck, his lips trailing up my throat. He sucked my ear lobe, then whispered, "The drapes are open and that apartment building is rather close. Anyone could look inside and see me thrusting into you."
My breath hitched.
One savage tug and my underwear was flung across the room. Rohan plunged two fingers inside me.
I moaned, bracing a hand on the mattress.
"Anyone looking?" He stroked me in long, slow swipes catching my clit on each pass.
I glanced outside. There was no hiding from that window a mere foot away, putting us on display to anyone next door who cared to look. And I swear it had gotten brighter outside, all the better to spotlight us. "No," I squeaked.
"You sure?" His voice was a dark caress.
My legs trembled. I rocked back onto the heel of one stiletto, one stocking falling down like white gossamer to my ankle.
Rohan chuckled. "You like that? The idea of someone watching us. Hidden when you're so very exposed." He nudged my legs wider, his fingers thrusting deeper.
"Whatever." The word ended on a moan as my hips began to rock.
"Bent." He sounded satisfied.
I fumbled with the buckle of his belt but he arched away from me. "Your fault."
"As if."
"I didn't have exhibitionist sex before you," I blurted out in a breathy voice, despite Cuntessa admonishing me to "admit nothing."
"Good." He ran his tongue again and again over the peak of my nipple before scraping his teeth across the tip. The cool air in the hotel room failed to dampen the fever consuming me.