19. Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Seventeen
Xena
I don’t need to look behind me to know Roman’s right on my tail. Surprisingly, he’s forgotten about that damn remote, because there’s no shock to stop me. My feet burn from the cold, muscles threatening to lock up, but I keep pushing, knowing I can’t stop now. I need warmth—crave it—more than anything. My legs pump as hard as I can manage before strong arms hook around my waist, yanking me backward into a hard, warm chest.
"Gotcha," he whispers into my ear, his voice dripping with satisfaction. He slings me over his shoulder like I weigh nothing, landing a sharp smack on my freezing ass. I don’t fight him. Why would I? He won fair and square. Who am I kidding, though? I want Roman now just as much as I wanted him back then.
Once we’re inside, Roman doesn’t put me down until we reach the living room. He drops me onto the sofa like it’s nothing, and I sink into the worn-out cushions. I should really replace the couch, I think, the thought almost slipping out loud when I catch a glimpse of him—looking annoyingly perfect, as usual.
"I’ll be back," he says, as he turns and heads for the kitchen.
I grab the black plush blanket nearby and wrap it around myself, closing my eyes as the warmth starts to seep back into my body, pushing away the cold.
From the sounds of it, Roman’s making coffee. The rich scent of it hits me, and I inhale deeply, feeling the tension in my muscles ease. Not even ten minutes pass before Roman reappears, shirtless, wearing nothing but damn gray sweats that hug his hips a little too well. He’s carrying two cups of coffee, and it’s impossible to miss his glory.
He hands me a cup, then settles next to me. "Thanks," I say, cupping the warm mug in my hands. The heat is a welcome relief. "Why did you come back here?" I ask.
Roman sips his coffee, his other hand casually sliding onto my leg, tracing slow patterns up my skin. Goosebumps flare from the contact, my body hypersensitive from the cold—and him.
"Those ten years were hell," he mutters, his gaze fixed on the glowing Christmas tree. "Coming back to you was the only thing that kept me together."
His words hang heavy in the air. I swallow hard, the guilt eating at me. "It was my fault. I was a stupid kid, Roman, pushing buttons, wanting you to make me your girlfriend. I ruined both our lives." My voice is raw with the truth I’ve been holding in for years. Roman’s always been possessive, but back then, I wanted more than matching tattoos. I wanted us to be real, but we couldn’t have that.
Roman sets his coffee down on the table beside the couch, turning to face me completely. "Me killing him… that was all on me. Not you." His voice drops to a whisper. "For you, I’ll kill again and again."
The intensity in his eyes sends a shiver down my spine—I know he meant every word. I swallow hard, then set my cup on the floor, sliding onto his lap in one smooth motion. His hands grip my hips instantly, fingers digging into my skin. The slight pain anchors me as I lean in and press my lips to his.
Roman groans into my mouth, his tongue meeting mine in a feverish dance, tasting of coffee and something undeniably him. His hands roam my body, rough and calloused from years in prison, but every touch feels like a balm on my soul.
I’ve craved this .
I’ve craved him .
Suddenly, he grips my braid, yanking me back with a force that has me gasping, my throat exposed to him. He doesn’t waste the opportunity; his lips attack my skin, biting and sucking, marking me.
“Ro,” I moan, grinding against him, desperate for more. So desperate. His hand slips between us, finding that perfect spot between my legs and pressing down on my clit with expert precision. The shockwave of pleasure is instant, making me arch into him.
“You’re mine,” he growls in my ear, his voice thick with lust. Every word sends a jolt of electricity through me, heightening the tension between us. His fingers move deliberately, slowly parting me and delving inside, drawing out the sweetest sounds from my lips.
My body reacts instinctively, rocking against his fingers, chasing the release I so desperately need. His thumb circles my clit in tandem with the rhythmic curl of his fingers inside me, pushing me closer to the edge.
“Tell me you’re mine.” Roman demands, his voice a mixture of need and desperation. “Tell me," He repeats, his fingers curling deep inside me.
“I’m yours,” I gasp, barely able to form the words. That’s all it takes for my body to shatter around him, my orgasm rippling through me as I cum hard on his fingers.
He pulls his hand away slowly, his gaze never leaving mine as he brings his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean with a wicked smirk. The sight alone sends another wave of heat through me.
In a swift move, he flips us, pinning me beneath him. His massive frame looms over me, casting a dark shadow that makes my heart race. He’s all dominance and control, and I love it. His fingers trace my body like a map he’s memorized, knowing every curve, every dip, stopping on our matching tattoos on our ribs. His reads good boy and my good girl.
“Roman,” I murmur, but he’s already reaching for my braid again. His other hand slips into his sweats, freeing his cock, the thick length already dripping with pre-cum.
“You know I love you, right?" he asks, his voice rough as he strokes himself slowly.
"I do," I whisper, breathless and wanting. His grip on my braid tightens, and a moan escapes me.
"Good," he says, that devilish smirk curling his lips. "Because I’m gonna fuck you like I hate you."
Before I can react, he drags his cock across my lips, shoving it into my mouth with no warning. I choke, tears springing to my eyes, but I take him, my lips wrapping around his thickness. His thrusts are brutal, with no hesitation, fucking my mouth hard and fast, exactly how he said he would.
Hating me. Loving me. With every single thrust.
His groans fill the room, low and primal. He pulls out, grabs the string of Christmas lights hanging above us, and yanks them down, sending decorations crashing to the floor and the couch.
"Hands," he growls as he quickly wraps the lights around my wrists, binding me tightly. The sensation of the bulbs pressing into my skin adds another layer of heat, and I moan at the unexpected pleasure.
Roman’s eyes darken with lust as he drags me back to my knees, fucking my mouth again with ruthless abandon. The Christmas lights twinkle around us, casting shadows on our bodies, while the taste of him fills my senses. He’s relentless, a man starved, and I’m his feast.
"Fuck… that’s it," he groans, and I moan around his length, rocking back and forth, clenching my thighs together, desperate for any relief. My suffering, though, only seems to intoxicate him further, the sheer need radiating from me fueling his wild abandon.
He pulls out of my mouth, kneeling in front of me again, his eyes locked on mine as he moves between my thighs. His fingers slide over the slick wetness pooling there, exploring me like I’m his to devour. My back arches as I grind down on his hand, craving more. "That’s it, hermanita. Take what you need from your big brother," he murmurs. His hand grips my hair, pulling my head back. His other hand continues to circle my clit.
"Ro," I moan—no, plead —as the tension builds inside me.
His laugh is low, evil, vibrating through the room, pleasure etched in the curve of his lips. "Not yet, hermanita," he rasps, a sense of finality in his voice that makes my entire body shudder in anticipation. His fingers move with expert precision, each stroke driving my need for him higher.
"Ro," I beg, desperate for more desperate for his cock to fill me, to stretch me, to ruin me.
"Ask me, hermanita." His fingers dance and tease, flicking my clit in slow, agonizing strokes. His hot breath fans over my forehead, bringing out beads of sweat on my skin. His eyes are dark, full of challenge. Dominance.
"Please… Ro…" My voice is barely a whisper, a broken plea.
"Shh, hermanita," he whispers, his fingers relentless in their torment. It doesn’t take long before I’m trembling, my body convulsing, the intense rush flooding me as I release against his hand.
Roman watches with a triumphant grin, pulling his fingers free, now glistening with my release. Slowly, deliberately, he brings them to his lips, tasting me in a way that sends my heart racing.
"You taste like poison... like sin," he murmurs, his eyes half-lidded with lust, dark and dangerous. "I could never get tired of this. I want to always have your taste on my lips and my tongue. Always."
"Ro," I breathe, because it's all I can manage. My brain has completely shut down, and all I can think about is him—giving him everything he's ever asked for, even the things he hasn’t.
"I told you to beg. Beg for this cock. Beg for me to ruin you," he growls, his voice thick with raw hunger.
Roman's words hit me like a drug, my body responding with a sharp gasp.
"Please," I whisper, my voice dripping with need, desperation creeping in. I need him.
My desperation and need cause his grin to widen, dark and triumphant, fully satisfied by my submission.
"Ro... fuck—" The words barely leave my lips before Roman yanks me onto all fours, the Christmas lights wound so tightly around my wrists biting into my skin. His grip tugs the lights like a leash, guiding me toward his cock, keeping me from smashing my face into the cold floor.
"I told you I’m gonna break you," he growls, the roughness of his voice making my pulse spike. The head of his cock teases against my slick folds, sending shivers down my spine, but just as I push back for more, he pulls away. I gasp, the emptiness sharp, leaving me desperate, chasing the edge he’s so cruelly denying.
"Ro…" I whimper, shaking with need, knowing full well he’s relishing in my desperation.
"Say it again, Xena Bean. Tell me to fuck you. Beg for your big brother to ruin you."
He drags his cock up my slit, collecting my wetness, teasing me. At this point, I’d say anything to feel him inside me.
"Please, baby… ruin me. Ruin this pussy, Roman."
His response is immediate, rough—he jerks on the lights and rams into me, burying himself in my pussy.
"Fuck," I moan as he pounds into me with a ferocity that sends shockwaves through my body, the sound of our wetness filling the room. His grunts are low and primal, each thrust pushing me closer to the edge.
The bulbs dig into my skin, burning and stinging, but I don’t care. His fingers find my mouth, and I bite down on them as he fucks me like the whore I am.
“Xena, I want to fill you with my cum, make you swell with my child." His voice is hoarse, thick with desire. "You’re so fucking tight," he groans, every word spurring me on.
I’m on birth control, but right now, I don’t care. I want him to fill me up, to own me in every way. I match his rhythm, pushing back against him as we both chase release, his hands tightening the lights to pull me harder into him.
As we both unravel, Roman’s arms wrap tightly around my waist, pulling me flush against him. My head rests on his shoulder as he keeps thrusting, the sound of skin on skin filling the room. I clench around him, gasping as I feel the flood of his release inside me.
“That’s it, baby,” I pant, my breath hitching. “Fill me with you.”
His groan vibrates through his chest as he thrusts one last time, stilling deep within me. We remain joined, his lips grazing the shell of my ear as he whispers, "How you feeling?" His breath is ragged, warm against my skin.
I let out a breathless laugh, the post-climax high buzzing through me. "Like I just got fucked."
He chuckles, pressing a kiss to the rose tattoo on my shoulder. But his tone softens as he asks, "No cravings?"
For a moment, I pause, really thinking about it. And then it hits me—I’ve been so wrapped up in him, I haven’t thought about anything else. "No," I whisper, sinking into his embrace.
"Good," he murmurs, holding me a little tighter. We stay there, bodies entwined, until his cock softens and slips out of me. He kisses the side of my head before pulling back. "Come on, let’s get you cleaned up. Maybe I’ll cook something. Sound good?"
It takes him a moment to untangle the lights, and once I'm free I stretch. Feeling a dull ache in my limbs when suddenly the sound of tires on snow snaps him to attention. I scramble for the ground, wrapping myself in a blanket as Roman pulls on his discarded sweats.
"Who the fuck is that?" he growls, peering out the window. I glance over and see it—Vik’s Silverado. "Fuck, Tony sent his goon for me. It’s my boss," I mutter, grabbing the robe I’d thrown aside earlier and wrapping it around me.
Seconds later, there’s a heavy knock on the door. Roman moves to answer, but I place a hand on his chest. "No, I got it," I say softly.
His nostrils flare. "You’re done stripping and fucking for money," he declares, and for once, I don’t argue.
I walk down the hall and open the door to Vik, who eyes me with confusion. "You alive?" he asks, his gaze raking over me.
"Obviously," I reply, flashing a smile. He rubs a hand down his face, clearly annoyed.
"The boss thought you died. You haven’t been to work, and he’s been itching to fill you up," he slurs, his breath reeking of alcohol.
I wince, hoping Roman didn’t catch the hunger in his tone. "I’m just tired," I say, trying to brush him off, but Vik steps closer, the smell of liquor strong on him. "I wanted to check on you… see if you wanna play for some pills."
My stomach tightens at the mention of pills, memories of how they once numbed everything washing over me. But now, the thought makes me sick.
"No, Vik. I don’t need that anymore. I quit," I add firmly, forcing the words out before the craving can rear its ugly head. Vik stares at me, processing my words, then his gaze shifts to something darker.
Just as I start to panic, Roman strides down the hall, his presence filling the space. He’s all muscle and fury, and Vik’s eyes widen when he sees him.
"I think she’s done with you, the pills, your boss, and stripping. Get fucked," Roman growls, his voice deep and deadly .
Vik stumbles back, caught off guard. His face twists into a sneer. "She’s just a whore. She’ll always be a whore," he spits, his voice dripping with venom.
For a moment, I think Roman will kill him, but Vik retreats, climbing into his Silverado. "Shame to lose a good pussy like yours," he mutters before driving off.
I close the door and collapse into Roman’s arms, whispering, "Thank you." His hand strokes down my back, his body still tense, watching until Vik is long gone. With a smack on my ass, he leads me upstairs to the bathroom, where he’s already drawn a bath.
I sink into the warm water, sighing as Roman slips in behind me, his strong arms wrapping around me. His scent calms me, grounding me. "I’ll take care of you," he murmurs. "Make a decent woman out of you." His hand moves to my stomach, lingering. "You’ll be my wife. Our child will grow here."
The words make my heart race. I turn in his arms, meeting his gaze. "Is that what you want?" I whisper.
His eyes soften, and he cups my cheek. "I want it all with you."
A warmth spreads through me as his words sink in, his thumb brushing over my skin tenderly. We sit there, wrapped in each other, letting the weight of everything settle. After a while, we clean up and I head to bed, Roman going off to make dinner.