Chapter 19 – Braelyn
brAELYN
Ican’t breathe. Like seriously, I can’t breathe. It’s not even from Roman’s hand on my neck, though who knew that would turn me into a puddle of whore at his feet? Because holy shit! Never in my life has anyone gone down on me like that. But like really, what the fuck am I doing? This is Roman.
Roman Fritz. My best friend. My lifeline.
My safety net. The one person I don’t think I could ever live without.
And yes, I’m married to him. I do realize that.
So technically, in that regard, we’re not doing anything wrong.
And obviously I’ve been curious. I mean, hello, he’s insanely fucking gorgeous and he’s an incredible man and I think that’s only natural.
He rejected me when I tried to kiss him that one time, and after that, I told myself he wasn’t interested. That it would never be like that between us, and I was better off for it.
But now…
He gives my pussy one final kiss and a lick before he climbs up my body, his hand still around my neck as his face hovers above mine.
And it’s his eyes that do it for me. It was the fire and raw need in them that threw me over the edge.
For a moment, he simply looks at me, both of us silent.
Then his mouth descends on mine, and he’s kissing me in such a way that he’s all I know, and the racing thoughts in my head have no choice but to quiet.
“Do you want this?” he murmurs against my lips, his hand leaving my neck and trailing up and into my hair.
“Don’t give me time to reconsider.”
He pulls back and meets my eyes. “No. That’s not how this will be between us.
If we’re doing this, it’s real. It’s not some rebound moment or a we’ll pretend it never happened thing.
We won’t do this and divorce from it later.
I won’t be your regret. It’s why I didn’t kiss you that night all those years ago. ”
I blink at him, but before I can question that, he sits me up and shifts me until my legs are dangling.
The truth is, I want him. I do. I know I do.
I want him to fuck me hard. I want him to take me to the edge and push me over it so I can see if I fall or fly.
But I’m also scared, and frankly, I need a minute to figure this shit out since it all just kind of came on me quickly. And no, that’s not a pun.
I rise to my feet, and he steps back, knocking the chair and causing it to slide across the tile floor until the back feet catch on the grout line and it stops.
I’m completely naked, and he’s very much aware of that as his eyes dip and seek and smolder.
I’ve never been shy and I’m not all that self-conscious either, but having Roman’s eyes on me is an experience I wasn’t prepared for, and I can feel my face heating.
I take a step forward, but because this is Roman, he doesn’t step back.
He’s a wall. Strong, formidable, protective.
I touch his chest, his skin hot and his muscles unyielding.
But beneath them is his heart, and there’s something so oddly sexy and human about it that it has me smiling.
Pushing him back, I force him to take three steps back until he’s sitting in the chair.
He’s quiet—as he often gets when he’s thinking seriously about something—but his gaze casts up to mine.
“What are you doing?”
I shake my head and stand here, waiting on… I don’t know. Something.
A sexy smirk curls up his lips, and he quirks a finger at me. “Come here, kid.”
It’s a weird nickname. He started calling me it after I forced him to watch Casablanca one night. “Here’s looking at you, kid,” he’d said to me, quoting the film, and after that, it stuck. I actually love it. I always have. It makes me feel special. Like his.
With my heart in my throat and my body tingly and filled with nerves, I lower myself to the cold tile floor. It’s about as uncomfortable as the table was, but it also grounds me. I crawl to him, and the effect is immediate. His eyes darken to midnight and his lips part on a silent breath.
“Jesus, Brae. You really know how to get me.”
He sits back in the chair, his hands going to the arms, clutching the wood as he watches me. I reach his thighs and climb up them, my fingers immediately tracking to the band on his boxer briefs.
He brushes some of my curls back from my face. “What are you thinking right now, beautiful?”
“That you got to taste me, and I want to know what you taste like.”
His fingers trickle down my cheek even as he shifts to allow me to remove his briefs. His cock, thick and long and angry-looking, bounces out, the tip gleaming with pre-cum.
“You’re stalling,” he accuses.
“I am now that I see how big you are. No way that’ll fit where you want it to go.”
His lips bounce, but he still gives me a look that tells me he’s waiting for an answer.
“I’m stalling,” I agree while I grip his cock and give it a firm stroke that makes him grunt and his eyes momentarily close. “You know my brain better than I do. Let me do this because it’s what I need right now. I want to do this. I just…”
“I know. Okay.” He swallows and pulls my hair back into a makeshift ponytail. “If I get too rough, raise your hand or tap my thigh twice.”
Holy crap. So much for giving him a simple blow job while I mentally work through the fact that we crossed the line of no return. Though I should have known. Roman isn’t simple. He’s the most complex person I’ve ever known. I’ve heard rumors. The guys joking around with him.
“Do I get a safe word?” I tease.
“Not yet. We’ll get there.”
Oh. Now my heart starts to pound, but a thrill also runs through me like a current, and my empty core clenches. Why is that thought hot?
“Yes, sir,” I quip, but I’ve read it in books, and I like it. The idea of it all.
But before he can respond, I grip his cock tighter and take him all the way down my throat until I gag.
He makes a strangled sort of noise and secures his grip in my hair.
The fact that I can affect him like this drives me wild.
We are talking about Roman Fritz after all.
Yes, he’s my best friend, but I’m not stupid or blind.
I see the way women follow and track him.
Billionaire. Famous chef. Impossible to catch.
And let’s not even get into the bad boy boxing thing because the man has groupies he doesn’t even cast a second glance at.
It only adds to the mystery and desire.
“Remember what I said if you need to tap out.”
I won’t tap out. I already know that. My pussy pulses at the thought of him fucking my face. I don’t know where it comes from or even why it turns me on, but it totally freaking does, and it makes me feel bolder. Sexier. Like even though he’s going to be the one in control, it’s actually me who is.
I flatten my tongue and glide it up his shaft, giving myself a second to catch my breath as I lick around his head, tasting him and giving him a few jerks.
He releases a shaky breath and lets me play and experiment with him for a minute.
I lick and tease and test and see what makes his breath hitch or him move differently or even tug harder on my hair.
Then I get cocky. Pun intended this time.
I take him deep again, and he swats my hand away and holds me down on his cock, using my hair to keep me in place.
His cock is huge. That part actually wasn’t a joke.
Him fitting inside me is a legit concern.
Especially given how big he feels in my mouth, how stretched my lips are around him.
I choke, tears instantly stinging my eyes, but his other hand strokes my face, and his words calm me.
“Breathe through your nose. That’s it. That feels so good. Fuck, Brae. Your hot little mouth on my cock is incredible. Remember what I said about your hands. If you need me to stop, I will.”
My eyes close and I force myself to relax, breathing through my nose as he instructs. Then he uses the hand in my hair and on my face to start pumping in and out of my mouth. His cock slams into the back of my throat over and over, and I swallow reflexively, making him moan low and long.
He goes five or six times before he pulls back so I can breathe, but he never leaves my mouth.
He just slows his pace. My eyes open and he’s right there watching me.
Something about his heat and lust and intensity has me putting my hands behind my back, my fingers intertwining, gripping, so I can allow him to lead.
It sets him off with a loud, “Fuck,” followed by a “You perfect girl.”
Then that’s exactly what he’s doing. He’s fucking my face.
Repeatedly. I can’t control it. I just work to keep my tongue flat and try to shield my teeth, but I definitely scrape him with them.
It’s impossible not to. It doesn’t bother him.
If anything, he gets off on the flash of pain.
It’s a pounding, relentless pace. Pump, pump, pump, breathe.
One hand, he keeps in my hair to work his dick.
The other cups my throat again, feeling the muscles move.
And while this should be the ultimate turn-off, a man taking his pleasure from me like this, it’s the opposite.
I feel owned and sacred to him. Like a fucking goddess.
Probably because of how he’s reacting. How much he loves it.
The filthy and incredible things he’s saying to make me wetter and wetter.
But also because this is Roman and I know he’d rather die than hurt me.
He’d never do anything I was uncomfortable with.
If I raised my hand or patted his leg, he would stop in a second.
That’s power.
“Yes. Like that. So fucking good. Damn. You have no clue. No fucking clue how many times I’ve dreamed of you on your knees for me.”
I don’t know why that surprises me, but it does.
Like everything about this encounter with him, I’m shocked stupid and silent.
I can’t make sense of it. It feels like a contradiction, but at the same time, one I’m happy about.
And we won’t discuss my knees because I wouldn’t be shocked if I have bruises on them from the tile.
That thought is only magnified when he hits a brutal pace, going deeper until he’s literally down my throat, and breathing through my nose doesn’t mean shit because oxygen won’t move past his cock in my trachea.
I gag and sputter and drool and swallow.
My hands grip each other, and I fight the need to tap out.
“Holy shit. Ah! Fuck. Holy shit.”
It’s that. The way he’s losing himself somehow keeps me going, and I swallow again, managing a bit of oxygen as I do. But the swallowing is driving him headfirst to the edge of reason, and that’s exactly where I want him.
“Braelyn, I’m gonna…” A grunt. “If you don’t want me to…”
He can’t even finish that. But I don’t care because I know he’s trying to warn me, and I want it.
He fucks my face, and I swallow and swallow until his head flies back and with a roar, he comes with a jerky thrust and a tight vise in my hair.
He comes straight down my throat, and there is no choice but to swallow that too.
The moment he’s done, I’m suddenly pulled up into his arms and he’s holding me and kissing me and praising me in a way no one ever has. No one’s ever kissed me after they’ve come down my throat either, and I love that he’s unafraid to do that.
His forehead presses to mine, and he holds my face.
“We both need a shower. I dove into the ocean today.”
“I’m sitting naked on you.”
He smiles and pecks my lips. “I noticed that.”
“I can tell. You’re already getting hard again.”
His fingers trace along my face. “A magnificent feat, considering how hard you just made me come.”
“I didn’t tap out.”
He wraps his arms around me and holds me against him, kissing my hair and face and lips. “You have to promise me that if you need to, you will. I don’t want you to do something for me that doesn’t make you feel good in return.”
“I won’t.”
He kisses my forehead. “You were incredible.”
“I know.”
His lips twitch against me. “So confident.”
I smile. “I’ve been told it’s a turn-on.”
He shrugs. “Everything about you is to me.” He kisses my lips.
“So we’re…” I trail off. “Not quite fucking each other, but likely will be soon?” I drop my forehead to his shoulder. I’m a mess.
His fingers glide down my hair. “That’s one way to put it. I already told you I want you, and I do. I can’t half-ass this. Yes, we’re married, but I know that doesn’t mean much to you. That said, if you want to talk about this on a deeper level, I’d be happy to.”
“Not yet.”
His hands are all over my face as he lifts it back up, and for a beat, he just stares into my eyes.
“I’m going to be forever fighting for you, aren’t I?
” He sighs and without following that up or explaining it further, he lifts me and walks us into our bedroom and straight into the bathroom, right toward the outdoor shower.
He turns on the faucet without setting me down, but his mouth is back on mine, filling my jumbled mind with deep swirling kisses, and I have a choice to make.
Have sex with my best friend and fake husband. Or not. Either way, things are about to get very complicated and confusing between us.