17. Chapter 16
Chapter 16
Eden
R oman slams his door shut, glancing out his driver’s side window, his heater blasting to fight off the cold. Watching Luca’s truck disappear into the night, his parting words still sting, my heart pounding in my chest.
“Have fun?” Roman sneers.
I scoff. “You’re a fucking asshole,” I whisper. “I’m not your property, Roman—”
“Tell me, were you thinking about me while you had those pretty lips on his worthless cock?” Roman growls, his knuckles white as he grips the steering wheel.
“Is that what this is about?” I snap, crossing my arms defensively. “You’re mad because someone else touched me—”
“Or maybe you thought of me when he was kissing you,” Roman interrupts, turning to face me. The bruising around his eye is stark, his knuckles bloodied, his entire demeanor rough and unhinged. “No, that can’t be the case,” He adds, sliding his hand under the hoodie and between my thighs. I can’t help but open my legs for him as he moves to my waistline, the touch sending a spark through me.
He dips his fingers beneath my swimsuit bottoms, palming my pussy as he spreads my folds and swipes his middle finger over my clit. I gasp as he removes his hand as quickly as he’d put it there. “You’re not even wet,” He mutters, his voice laced with disdain. My mind scrambles, body reeling, but no words come.
I glance at his hand, noticing the absence of his ring. My breath catches.
Roman lifts his hand, studying his hand like it’s something foreign. “You asked me in that church to make a decision,” He says quietly, though the edge in his voice remains. “So I’ve made my decision. When I’m with you, I’m no longer the hand of God. You want to see it all, Eden? Fine. But know that ring held back monsters you can’t even begin to understand,” He warns. “That gentle touch you felt with me before? It took everything in me to give it to you.”
“I never asked you to be gentle, Roman,” I whisper, my voice trembling as I shift in the seat. “I never asked anyone to treat me like I’m some broken thing. But after tonight, I don’t see that getting any better. I told them why I came home. I...I just needed to get it out.” I pull my knees to my chest, feeling the weight of everything crashing down around me.
He says nothing, just watches me with a penetrating gaze, his expression unreadable.
My eyes catch on the bruising around his eye, the weariness etched into his face. He looks exhausted—worn down by whatever battle he’s been fighting, both with himself and the world around him. And here I am, torn between wanting to reach out and touch him, to soothe the pain I see so clearly, and the anger simmering beneath my skin. Anger at him, at myself, at the whole damn situation we’ve found ourselves in.
Why does he have to look at me like that? Why does he have to be the one who’s always in control, even when he’s unraveling? It’s maddening, the way he tries to protect me while keeping me at arm’s length, as if that’s supposed to make this any easier. As if that’s supposed to make me feel less guilty for the mess I’ve become.
I want to hate him for the way he’s made me feel, for the way he let his guard down just enough to draw me in, only to push me away again. But I can’t. Instead, all I feel is this twisted knot of guilt and longing tangled so tightly around my heart that it’s hard to breathe. It would be so much easier if I could just let go, if I could just walk away from this man who will never truly be mine, who belongs to something far greater than I could ever be.
Yet here I am, sitting beside him, feeling the pull of him like gravity. The weight of his exhaustion, his bruises, his burdens—it’s all too much, and yet I can’t tear my eyes away. I care for him more than I want to admit, and it terrifies me. Because I know that no matter how much I might want him, I’ll never get all of him. I’ll never be the one he chooses above everything else. I’ll always be second to God, to his vows, to the life he’s sworn to live.
And maybe that’s what hurts the most. The knowledge that he’ll always be just out of reach, that no matter how close we get, there will always be this barrier between us. I can feel the tension crackling between us, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. I want to reach out, to press my fingers to the bruise on his face, to show him that I care, even if I shouldn’t. But I don’t. Because I’m too afraid of what might happen if I do.
So instead, I sit here, waging this silent war within myself, torn between wanting him and hating myself for it. I can’t help but wonder if he’s fighting the same battle. If he feels the same pull, the same longing, the same guilt. Or if he’s already made peace with it, resigned himself to the life he’s chosen, even if it means leaving me behind.
The thought makes my chest tighten, the pain sharp and sudden.
I sigh, giving in to my desire to be closer to him. I reach over, my fingers brushing the bruise around his eye. He flinches slightly, grabbing my wrist with surprising force.
I glance down at his tight grasp but don’t pull away. "How much did you drink tonight?"
"A lot," He admits, his voice softening. "After what happened in the church, it seemed... necessary."
He leans closer, his breath warm against my lips. "And what about you? I thought you gave up drinking?" He locks his eyes with mine, mouth parted slightly as he waits for me to respond.
"I did," I whisper back. "But it also seemed necessary after you had your tongue all over me earlier and then clearly regretted it the moment we were done. I couldn’t deal with the shame I saw written all over your face, Roman.” I was too tired to be anything but honest. I’m not sure how much more he could shut me out. I’d already begun to resign myself to the fact that this could never go any further.
Roman’s expression hardens. "Is that why you let him touch you? You were trying to convince yourself that you’d be satisfied by anyone else?" His grip on my wrist loosens as he reaches to touch me again.
I stop him, catching his forearm in a firm grasp.
“Maybe I just wanted his cock in my mouth.”
The moment those words leave my lips, I see the flicker of rage, quickly hardening into something more primitive and possessive.
"Fine," Roman whispers, his hand coiling in my hair, dragging my head closer to his lap. "You want to choke on something tonight?" His eyes glance down to the prominent bulge in his pants. "Then so be it. I’m done being gentle with you."
I try to lift my head, but his grip tightens, keeping me firmly in place.
"You were so eager to explore Luca," Roman hisses. "Afraid you won’t be able to handle a real man?" He taunts, his voice laced with venom.
"Hardly," I whisper, daring to provoke him. "I’m just wondering if your pre-cum is as sweet as Luca’s."
A rough, territorial snarl rips from deep in his throat. He tugs my hair so hard that a sharp yelp escapes me, my eyes watering from the pain.
"If I hear that bastard’s name come out of your mouth again, you’ll regret it." He glances down at his pants, the tension between us palpable. "Now, let me feel those pretty lips."
I glance at the thick strain beneath the fabric of his pants and swallow hard, feeling the grip of his hand ease slightly as I inch closer. I fumble with the button of his pants, tugging them down just enough to expose his boxers. My lips trail along his length, feeling the heat of him even through the fabric, lost in a heady, lust-filled haze as I listen to him groan. I let my tongue slide across his lower stomach, tasting the salt of his skin as I kiss my way up to the hard line of muscles on his lower abdomen.
Roman watches me, intrigued as I gather a bit of his skin between my teeth, sucking gently before nipping at him just enough to leave a small bruise.
"Fuck," Roman groans, his grip tightening in my hair as he pulls my head back. A devious smile curves my lips as he looks down at me.
"You think that’s funny?"
I can’t help but grin harder, but the moment he pushes his boxers down further, my smile falters at the sight before me. Roman wraps his hand around his length, stroking himself slowly and deliberately. My breath catches as I watch him, the reality of his size dawning on me.
He’s bigger than any man I’ve ever messed around with, the kind of size that would normally make me pause, but with him, all I feel is a throbbing need pulse between my thighs that urges me to take him and make him mine.
"Come here, Angel," Roman whispers, gently pulling me back toward his lap.
My mouth waters. I part my lips and press a soft kiss to the tip of his cock. My tongue swirls around the head, tasting his salty pre-cum. Roman’s eyes widen, his jaw clenching as I run my tongue down his length, trying to ready myself to take all of him in.
As I drag my tongue back up to the tip, I glance up at him, our eyes locking in a moment of shared understanding—this is just the beginning .
"Tell me you want it, Roman," I whisper. I gather the warm spit that’s been pooling in my mouth behind my puckered lips, opening my mouth just enough to let a trail of moisture fall to the head of his cock.
He hisses, sucking in air between his teeth. He shakes his head, desire swirling in his blown-out pupils.
My lips stretch around his tip and I suck hard, my cheeks hallowing out before I release him, hearing a soft ‘pop’ as the suction breaks. "Tell me how much you’re willing to sin just to hear me choke on your cock."
Without warning, Roman urges my head down. I open my mouth eagerly to take him in again as he thrusts hard, his tip hitting the back of my throat. I choke on the size of him, struggling to adjust, a rush of exhilaration coursing through me. Eyes half-closed, I savored the sensation, a mix of pain and pleasure, my body tingling with the thrill of it.
He guides my head in a bobbing motion, rolling his thumb over my cheek as spit escapes my mouth and drips to my chin. I curl my tongue around him with deliberate, sensual movements.
"There we go, Angel," He groans, letting me adjust as my tongue moves up and down his shaft, the wet messy sound of my mouth taking him in adding to the warm slickness in my underwear.
"Keep taking me," He challenges, tugging my hair. He slows his thrusts, driving his cock as far back as he can and holding it there as I gag again. Not ready to give up, I reach my hand to his base, stroking the part of him that won’t fit in my mouth.
"Just like that, Angel," He groans, his head rolling back into the seat, the mix of alcohol and adrenaline sending a wave of courage through me .
Feeling a slight pulse in the base of his cock, I know he’s close to release.
"You want to taste me, Eden?"
I simply nod, groaning against his dick. I move my mouth faster, meeting the movement of the frenzied thrust of his hips.
An explosion of sweet and salty liquid shoots down my throat. I swallow, guzzling down the taste of him like he’s the only thing that can quench my thirst. He stifles a loud moan into the sleeve up his shirt, his eyes closed as I take every drop from him.
I release him after I’ve had my fill, sitting up, my torso still splayed over the middle console. As he opens his eyes, I drag my thumb over the wetness on my bottom lip before putting it in my mouth and licking it clean.
"Fucking Hell, Eden," He smirks, tugging up his boxers. "Do you realize how pretty you looked choking on my-"
Tearing off Luca's hoodie, I crawl over the console and into his lap, my wet pussy landing on his boxers, hungry for friction. I rock my hips, feeling him hardening again underneath me, my swollen clit trying to find relief as I move.
"Fuck, Roman-"
"Keep rocking those hips, beautiful," He commands, his lips pressed against my neck as he moves his hands further up my back to the tie holding my bathing suit top in place.
Removing my hands from his hair, I slowly move my arms backwards, untying it for him. As the material around my breasts loosens, I slip the top over my head, Roman completely still as he watches me.
"Touch me. "
He leans into me, his lips landing on my nipple as he moves his hand to my other breast, cupping the fullness, massaging, and kneading. Watching as he takes his time feasting on me, I run my hands through his hair, tilting my head back as I give in to the pleasure coursing through me. I cry out his name again and again, reaching down between us, rubbing my clit as he nips at my nipple.
Rolling my hips, a sudden wave of nausea creeps in, cracking the dome of lust and euphoria that surrounds us.
"Fuck-" I hiss. Shoving Roman away from me, he keeps hold of my hips as I move my hand to the control on his door panel to roll the window down. I lean my head out of the window, releasing what feels like every drop of alcohol I drank tonight. As liquid continues pouring out of me, Roman coils his hand around my loose hair, holding it out of my face while I gag.
Embarrassment heats my skin as I lean my head down against the cool metal of his car door.
"I told you," Roman whispers. "Taking my cock like that will take some practice." He winks at me, and I know he’s trying to let me know he’s not judging me.
“Very funny.”
Reaching into his glovebox, Roman pulls out a wet wipe, keeping me nestled in his lap, his hands gently preventing me from covering my breasts. He carefully wipes my mouth, ensuring no trace of vomit remains on my skin. He moves the loose hair that’s fallen into my face behind my ear, and moves to brush his thumb along my jawline, the touch sending a shiver down my spine. My head feels heavy, my eyes struggle to stay open .
After wiping down the inside of his car with Luca’s hoodie, he tosses it out the window, then rolls it up, sealing us off from the world. His gaze never leaves me as he runs a finger over my scars, his touch surprisingly tender despite the hunger in his eyes.
Slipping his hand down to my bathing suit bottoms, he finds the evidence of my desire still lingering as he glides his fingers through the wetness between my folds.
“Like I said, beautiful,” He murmurs, his voice a low rumble. “I’m the only one who gets to touch you like this... the only one who’ll make you feel this way.”
He brings his fingers to his lips, licking them with a devious smirk. My body instinctively leans forward, collapsing into him as exhaustion takes over, my head coming to rest in the crook of his neck.
“I know I said I didn’t want gentle,” I whisper, barely able to keep my eyes open. “But can you please just—”
Without a word, Roman shifts me to the passenger seat, pulling off his hoodie and draping it over me. He props up the middle armrest and tugs me back toward him, resting my head in his lap. His fingers gently thread through my hair, lulling me closer to sleep.
I hear the sound of the car turn on, the hum of the engine coaxing me closer to unconsciousness.
“You’re going to ruin me, Eden,” Roman whispers, his fingers tapping the steering wheel. “And I fear I’m going to love every second of it.”
That’s the last thing I remember before I drift into nothingness .
1 Corinthians 13:4–8a "Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth."