Chapter 6 Roman
ROMAN
Cruz’s mouth leaves her, and I see her chest rise faster, the hem of her sweater bunched in his fist.
Her gaze snags on mine, and heat ripples low in my gut at the way her pupils dilate, the second of uncertainty drowned under something hotter.
“Strip,” I say, my voice hoarse and absolute.
Her fingers catch in the knit, dragging it up inch by inch, showing me her soft stomach, ribs, the swell of her breasts contained in cotton.
The sweater hits the counter behind her. I don’t give her time to stall.
“Jeans.”
Cruz has already unhooked her button, and the denim slides over her hips. Deacon’s hand is there, thumb brushing bone.
Cruz crouches, knuckles trailing the inside of her calf as he pulls the fabric down and away.
Now she stands in panties and that thin bra, skin bare to the warm air and three sets of eyes.
I curl two fingers toward myself. “Here.”
She comes.
Close enough that I can smell the heat on her skin, see the quick beat in her throat.
I turn her with a hand on her waist, hook my thumbs in the elastic of her panties, then pause.
My mouth is near her ear.
“On your knees.”
She lowers herself slow, eyes up, her lashes catching firelight.
The floorboards creak under her weight.
Her hands go to my belt, fingers brushing the ridge of my stomach through my shirt.
She undoes the buckle, slides the leather free, works the button and zipper.
My cock springs heavy into her palm, and I watch her eyes widen at the feel of it, at the size.
“Open,” I tell her.
Her lips part.
The first touch of her mouth is warm and wet, her tongue gliding over the head before I push deeper.
Saliva coats me quick, catching the low amber glow from the hearth.
The wet sound of her sucking fills the space between us, and my jaw tightens.
“That’s it,” I murmur. My hand cradles the back of her skull, guiding her, not forcing. Yet.
Cruz is beside her now, thumb stroking the side of her mouth each time she draws back, smearing her spit across her lips.
Deacon moves in close on her other side, his fingers in her hair, his mouth brushing her ear with words I can’t hear but see her react to—her breathing faster, her throat working harder around me.
She gags once when I push deeper, the vibration running straight through me.
I ease her back just enough for her to draw in air, her lips slick, a glistening string connecting her mouth to me before she swallows it down.
“Look at me,” I order.
Her eyes lift, glazed with heat, lashes wet.
She takes me again, slower now, her tongue pressing against the underside while her lips seal tight.
Each stroke of her mouth is deliberate, the wet pop each time she pulls back making my pulse pound.
I let her work me until my control frays, then I grip her hair and pull her off with a wet gasp.
She turns without needing to be told, taking Cruz in her hand and then her mouth, her cheeks hollowing.
He groans, head tipping back.
“Good,” I say, the praise meant for both of them.
Deacon’s zipper is already down.
She shifts again, hand on him, mouth still on Cruz.
The sounds are obscene, wet slurps, the low grunt of men being worked over by a woman who knows she’s in control by giving it up.
Her spit shines on all of us now, gloved over my cock, smeared across her chin.
When I take her face back toward me, she comes willingly, lips parted, tongue ready.
I slide into the heat of her mouth, watch her throat flex as she swallows me down.
Her hands keep moving—one stroking Cruz, the other wrapped around Deacon—until she’s choking softly around me and I have to pull back so she can breathe.
The way she looks up at me then with her mouth swollen, chin wet, eyes wide and asking without a word, is enough to make me want to take her right there on the floor.
I pull her to her feet, my fingers hooking in the waistband of her panties and tearing them down her thighs.
She gasps, half from the suddenness, half from the heat in my eyes, and I shove them aside with my boot.
My hands are on her again, one gripping her hip, the other hauling her up as I turn and press her to the wall.
The thud of her back against the wood makes Cruz suck in a breath.
“Undress me,” I growl.
She doesn’t hesitate.
Her hands find my shirt, jerking the buttons open in fast, clumsy bursts.
Her knuckles skim my chest as she shoves the fabric off my shoulders.
She’s panting, eyes flicking from my mouth to my body like she can’t decide what she wants more.
Her fingers drag my boxers and pants down further, the backs of them brushing my cock as she fully frees me.
I grip her jaw, tilt her head so she has to look at me. “Now.”
Her bra hits the floor, straps slipping down her arms.
Her bare breasts lift with each ragged breath.
I pin her there with my hips, my cock sliding against the slick heat between her thighs.
She moans and the sweet sound starts low and breaks higher when I push up into her, slow enough for her to feel every inch stretch her.
Her mouth falls open into that perfect, helpless O, her head tipping back against the wall.
I take her throat in my hand, not squeezing, just holding, feeling the rapid flutter of her pulse under my palm.
“Eyes on me,” I order.
She drags her gaze back down, lids heavy, lips wet.
I drive up into her harder this time, my hips snapping, the sound of skin on skin echoing in the quiet.
She makes a broken little cry, nails digging into my shoulders.
“Fuck, you feel good,” I tell her, voice rough. “So tight, so wet…you were made for this cock.”
Each thrust shoves a small whimper out of her, the rhythm steady and punishing.
The wet slap of our bodies, the soft creak of the wall, the obscene squelch when I pull back—it all coils tighter in my gut.
Cruz is close now, his mouth on her breast, sucking hard enough to make her gasp.
Deacon’s hand is between us, his thumb circling her clit in quick, ruthless strokes.
She’s shaking, hips jerking to meet mine, her moans spilling out raw and desperate.
I squeeze her throat just enough to make her breath catch, then release. “Good girl. Take it. Every. Fucking. Inch.”
Her nails scrape down my back when I slam into her, her cry breaking into a choked sob of pleasure.
I keep her pinned, keep my cock driving deep until she’s trembling hard enough that I know she’s right there, ready to come apart.
Her whole body is shivering under my grip, nails biting my shoulders, breath tearing out in uneven gasps.
I pull her off the wall, my cock still buried deep inside her, and her head drops back with a cry as the movement drags me over every sensitive spot inside her.
“Hold on,” I tell her.
Her legs lock tighter around my waist.
I carry her across the room, the bounce of each step making her moan into my neck, hot and ragged.
Her slick is running down my shaft, coating me, and I can feel it where my hand grips her ass to keep her steady.
The couch waits by the fire.
I drop into it with her straddling me, not breaking contact.
The sound when she sinks back down onto me is wet, obscene, and I feel her clench around me like she’s trying to keep me inside forever.
“Lean forward,” I order.
Her hands brace on my chest, her hair spilling down to frame her face.
I angle her hips and start driving up into her again, harder now, the couch creaking under us.
She’s panting, her mouth open, every thrust pushing another breathless moan from her.
“Deacon,” I say without looking away from her.
He comes over, his cock already hard and heavy in his hand. I take her chin, turn her face toward him. “Open for him.”
She does, lips wrapping around the head of his cock while I’m still fucking her.
The muffled groan she makes sends a pulse of heat straight down my spine.
Her mouth works him slow at first, tongue swirling, then faster as he threads his fingers into her hair and guides her.
Cruz is leaning back in a chair across from us, his eyes locked on the way she bobs on Deacon while riding me.
His fist works steadily over his cock, the veins in his forearm standing out.
He’s watching her every swallow, every bounce of her tits when I slam her down on me.
I grip her hips, controlling her rhythm, making her take every inch.
The wet slap of our bodies fills the room, underscored by the lewd, sucking sounds of her mouth on Deacon.
Saliva glistens on her chin, strings from her lips to him when she pulls back for air.
“Good girl,” I tell her, my voice low and rough. “Taking us both like that. You like it, don’t you?”
She moans around Deacon, the vibration shooting through him if his curse is anything to go by.
I slam up into her, harder, and her eyes squeeze shut as she swallows him deeper.
Cruz groans across the room, his pace on himself faster now. “Fuck, look at her…”
Her nails dig into my chest when I grip her ass and thrust up, the angle making her gasp around Deacon’s cock.
I feel her walls give that telltale grip that says she’s close, and I keep the pace, watching her try to breathe and suck and take me all at once.
Her body is clenching around me now, gripping me like she’s trying to drag me deeper.
I can feel every flutter of her muscles, every slick pull.
Deacon’s cock is still sliding between her lips, her moans vibrating down his shaft.
Cruz’s breathing is rough across the room, his hand pumping himself hard.
I hold her hips down, grind up into her, and let go.
The heat floods out of me in hard pulses, buried deep inside her, and the sound I make is low, broken, and guttural.
She whimpers around Deacon’s cock as I spill, her body shuddering in my hands.
When I can breathe again, I ease her forward, sliding out slow, my cock wet with her slick and my release.
I push her gently onto her back on the couch, and Deacon follows her, never letting go of her hair.
Kneeling between her thighs, I press my mouth to her pussy.
She gasps, her head tipping back, the taste of us thick on my tongue.
I lick her until she’s trembling, her hands tangled in my hair, then pull back with her still wet and open for the next man.
She meets Cruz’s gaze, her eyes dark, and crooks a finger at him.
His chair scrapes back, his cock flushed and ready in his fist.
He steps into the space I’ve left, and the way she parts her legs for him is invitation enough.
I lean back, breathing hard, watching him line himself up, knowing the next sound out of her mouth will be his to take.