Page 6 of Roman Petrov


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During my marriage, I didn’t have a sex drive. I thought I was broken. Now, the more I get lost in these fictional spicy worlds, the more I question my desires.

Not enough to ever act on them.

But surely there are men out there who won't just fuck me till they finish, roll over and start to snore?

That’s all I was used to. Luckily, I’m an expert in finishing myself, especially with the help of my new toys. I don’t need a man anymore.

I blink a few times at the latest line I am reading.

Wait…

Another guy has walked in while he has her tied up. My eyes flick over the words as quick as they can.

I squeeze my thighs together as the main character grabs the back of this guy's head and shoves his tongue down his throat.

Holy shit, that is hot. She’s tied up and watching them.

I can't get through the page quick enough, the temperature in my living room is suddenly at a scorching level.

It’d be nice to have a toy, but I can’t stop reading. Dammit, my hand will have to do.

I slide my fingers under my shorts and panties and am surprised how wet I am.

Just as he’s about to shove his dick in the other guy, while that one is eating out his woman, there is a violent knock that makes me jump. The tablet goes flying and I tear my arm out of my underwear.

“Jesus Christ,” I hiss.

My cheeks are on fire, my pussy is throbbing.

Whoever the hell is knocking has just edged me and I am not happy about it. Picking up my device from the floor, I set it down on the couch.

“I’ll be back for you.”

Because whoever this is can leave so I can finish myself off.

I fling open the door with a sigh and my breath catches in my throat. First I’m hit with a strong scent of his cologne and I scan my eyes up his body.

A navy suit, tailored to perfection, which means I can see how ripped he is under the jacket. He pushes his aviators to the top of his head of wavy dark hair and grins, leaning on the frame.

I wish I wasn’t so horny right now, but I don’t miss the veins on his hands and how I’m picturing him grabbing my neck.

I shake my head to compose myself, trying to ignore the wicked smirk on his lips.

“Can I help you?”

Shit. That came out harsher than I anticipated.

He pushes himself straight so he towers over me. I want to step back as he consumes my space, but I stay firm.

This is my house.

“Nadia, correct?” I can’t miss the Russian accent as he says my name.

He extends his palm and I place mine in his. It looks tiny in comparison.

“Correct.”

Sparks fly into my fingers and throughout my entire body, enough to have me snatching my hand back from his.

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