Unlike the others, Roman Draven had no patience for games. He went straight for the prize. Violet gasped as he buried his face between her thighs, his tongue sliding along her slick, aching core like he owned it.
"Oh gods," Violet moaned, her head falling back, her body arching helplessly against the restraints as Roman feasted on her like a starving wolf. He was loud about it too, making those sinful, wet noises that echoed off the walls, lapping and sucking, flicking her clit until she thought she might combust.
It was too much. He was too much. Violet wanted to push him away, to claw at him, to tell him to slow the hell down, but the binds left her at his mercy.
And Roman Draven had no mercy.
His tongue moved like a weapon, driving her to the edge faster than she could handle, her body shaking, writhing, soaked in desperate, throbbing need. She cursed him. She thanked him. She wanted to kill him and kiss him all at once.
