39. Juliette #2
“I want you!” he exclaims, his arms dropping helplessly to his sides. “I just want you .”
My heart free-falls at his words, and tears spring behind my eyes, the burn fierce as I try to keep them from falling.
“You’ve been the only genuine thing in my life since showing up to this fucked-up little town, the only thing that feels real, and now I don’t know if even that’s the truth.”
He takes a step closer to me, and I step back.
“I want to stop craving you with every breath.”
My stomach clenches.
Another step forward, and I take another one away, my back hitting the wall next to the hand dryer.
“I want you to tell me that he doesn’t get to touch you,” he murmurs, his blue eyes dark as they peruse my body, like he can burn away anything that isn’t him from my skin. “That nobody else gets to feel you the way I did. The way I’m still desperate to.”
My breathing becomes shallow, heat pooling between my legs, my heart pounding so fast in my chest I can’t take a full breath in.
His hand reaches out, ghosting down the side of my face, across my collarbone, then back up until he’s lightly cupping the front of my throat. “I want you to tell me to stop,” he murmurs.
I lick my lips, but no words come out. Desire courses through me, like static electricity shocking everywhere it touches. The connection that was missing with Preston is now exploding at the seams, like the room itself can’t contain it.
Roman leans down. “Every person in this town has warned me away from you. My own father just sat across from me and accused you of playing games with me. But they don’t know you, do they, Juliette?”
I let out a shaky breath. “No, they don’t.”
My hands tremble as I reach up and press them to his shoulders.
“ You know me, Roman.”
His fingers tighten around my neck, his other hand skimming up my thigh, over the tight fabric of my dress, until it’s resting on my hip.
And then he pauses, like he’s waiting for something.
“He doesn’t get to touch me,” I whisper. My hands glide over his shoulders and wrap around the back of his neck. “Only you get to touch me.”
Before I can blink, he’s on me, pushing me up against the wall and flipping my dress up to my thighs.
He groans when he shoves my panties to the side and sees me bare before him, and I can barely take a breath before his mouth covers my pussy, his tongue dragging through my folds and circling my clit.
I slap a hand over my lips and bite down to keep from screaming out because the sensation is so intense, but somehow, I muffle my moans.
“Fuck, you taste just as good as I imagined.” He buries himself between my legs again, and the sight of him there on his knees while he licks me is enough to tighten my core and shoot me into the stratosphere.
My teeth dig so harshly into my hand I taste blood, but I can’t risk anyone hearing me. Not when his father and Preston are both right outside this door.
The thought makes heat flash through me, knowing he’s here fucking me with his tongue despite that.
“Is this pussy mine, Juliette?” he groans, his voice thick.
One of his fingers slips inside me and curls up, and my vision goes fuzzy.
“Tell me,” he demands, sliding in a second digit. “Say it. Right now.”
“Yes,” I whimper, my free hand going to the back of his head and physically forcing him against me again. “All yo—yours.”
His mouth closes around me while he starts gliding his fingers in and out, and he suctions his lips just enough to create a torturous pressure around my clit. It’s rhythmic and overwhelming, and I’m so close.
“Fuck,” I whisper, my gaze locked on how my fingers grip his hair and how his head is moving sensuously in between my thighs.
Tension coils around me like a snake and constricts.
“I want you to come on my face,” he says, and with a final lick of his tongue and pump of his hand, I’m gone, blasting into outer space and falling apart in his arms.
My legs shake around him, and he moans out his pleasure like he’s the one coming undone.
When I come back down, he’s sitting back on his heels with a filthy grin, my arousal coating his lips and making them shiny.
He leans in and presses a kiss to my pussy, and I clench, still sensitive. But he doesn’t back away.
Instead, he stands. His hands are already at his belt, his jaw tight, and his eyes wild.
My stomach flips and tightens, and then I’m reaching for him, my fingers fumbling with the button of his pants, and he doesn’t stop me. He just watches with that sharp, dark hunger that makes my insides feel like they’re liquefying.
His breath stutters when I get him free, wrapping my hand around his length.
His dick pulses in my palm, already leaking at the tip, and the sound he makes when I stroke him shoots straight between my legs.
I drop to my knees, and his hand flies to the back of my head, his other hand tilting my chin up so I’m looking straight into his eyes. “ Goddamn . Look at you.”
My chest warms at his praise.
He releases my chin and fists the base of his shaft, dragging the tip across my lips. “Do you want my cock, baby?”
I nod, unable to actually speak the words, and then he jerks himself, tapping the head of himself against my mouth.
“Open those pretty little lips for me, Juliette.”
I do, and he slides in slow, dragging over my tongue as he groans like he’s losing his mind for me.
He’s thick, my mouth stretching around him until my jaw aches, and I can feel every single inch as he starts to move; shallow thrusts that feed me more of him until I’m full. His cock hits the back of my throat and I moan.
His eyes roll back like the sound physically pains him.
And the sight of him losing control like this? It fuels my hunger.
I move, my hands braced on his thighs as I suck him down, my tongue swiping along the vein that pulses up the underside of his shaft.
“Fuck, Juliette.” His hips roll, and when I tighten my throat, he throws his head back and moans, his fingers threading through the roots of my hair.
He jerks forward, and I take him even deeper, my mouth wet and messy, spit and pre-cum dripping down my chin, and when I swallow around him, he snaps, ripping away from me and surging up with a choked curse, grabbing me by the arms and hauling me up before spinning me around until his cock is hard and heavy between my thighs, and my hands are flat against the wall.
“I need to fuck you, baby.”
I press my ass into him, forcing his cock to slip inside me, just a little.
“Are you on birth control?” he asks, jerking forward so his tip presses against my clit.
My thighs tense around him.
“Yes,” I gasp out. “Please, just do it.”
He lines himself up, the head of him nudging my entrance.
“Tell me it’s mine,” he demands.
My core clenches, that fire flaring up my spine.
“It’s yours,” I agree. “ Please ?—”
He thrusts into me in one devastating stroke and buries himself to the hilt.
I cry out, my head falling back against his shoulder as my pussy clamps down around him, struggling from his girth. The stretch is intense, almost painful, but it’s so good I can’t think straight.
“You’re so tight,” he groans. “Don’t fight it, baby. Let me in.”
“I can take it,” I manage, my body shuddering as I push back, trying to push him deeper.
“Of course you can take it,” he replies, pulling all the way out, until just the swollen head of him is pressing at my entrance.
His arm wraps around my waist, holding me in place as he works back in.
“You were made for me, Juliette. This body, this cunt, your fucking soul; every inch of you is a perfect fit.”
He bottoms out on the last word, and I clench around him, my wetness dripping out of me and smearing down my thighs. He sets a relentless rhythm, his hips snapping against me repeatedly, his cock hitting every oversensitive nerve inside me.
One arm stays locked around my waist, pinning me to him, and his other hand finds my hair and fists it, yanking back just enough to make my spine arch and my mind go blank.
I gasp and he thrusts up into me.
“You feel that?” he rasps into my ear. “That’s what being mine feels like.”
I whimper, every part of me burning.
“You’re mine too,” I manage, my hips swirling back as I clench my pussy walls around him like a vise.
He chuckles, low and dark. “You don’t get it, do you?” He pulls out just enough to torture me. “I’ve always been yours. The moment I met you, I was ruined.”
The confession lands hard, cracking open the center of my chest.
He groans, his teeth sinking into the side of my throat.
I can’t speak. Can’t even breathe. All I can do is give in to the sensation, feel him stretch me open while his hand slides from my waist down to my clit, applying the perfect amount of pressure.
“Roman,” I gasp.
“Give it to me, Little Rose,” he murmurs, his voice sounding like it’s scraped over gravel. “Make a mess all over me.”
My orgasm crashes through me like lightning, my body locking up and my pussy spasming around him. I moan his name out like he’s the only thing I know, and I grind into his jerky thrusts, riding every wave.
“Come inside me,” I beg. “I want to walk back to him while you’re leaking out of me.”
He lets out a hoarse, broken groan, and then thrusts deep one last time, his dick jerking wildly as he spills.
We stay in place, the quiet feeling like cotton balls in my ears.
I’m trembling. Breathless. And his hands grip me like he never wants to let me go.
He slides out of me, thick and dripping, and I exhale heavily at the loss.
Roman doesn’t say a word. He just spins me around, releases me and then kneels between my legs. His eyes drop to the mess we made, and before I can gather my thoughts, his mouth is on me again.
I jerk, overstimulated and out of my mind, and he pins my hips with both hands, his tongue dragging through the mix of us with a slow and deliberate type of pressure.
He moans, and then presses a soft kiss to my clit before placing my underwear over it.
Then he looks up at me with a satisfied smirk.
“What do I taste like?” I ask, my chest heaving from how hard I’m trying to control my breath.
His grin darkens, and he stands up and leans in until our noses brush.
“Mine.”
A ragged whimper leaves me at his words and I rest my forehead against his chest. “You’re ridiculously possessive, you know?”
He hums.
Lifting up on my toes, I press my lips to his again, my heart flipping when I do.
This is right.
This is home.
This is everything.
He leans back and gives me a soft, sad smile, his thumb pressing into my bottom lip.
Heat spikes through my middle.
“I won’t make a scene,” he says. “But if he keeps touching you, I’ll find him once he leaves and break every single one of his fingers.”
I nod slowly, heat curling in my belly. “Damn you. I find that incredibly attractive.”
He smirks, leans down, and presses his lips to mine one more time, and then he’s gone.