Chapter 19 #2
Nausea rips through me as Eddie forces me against the wall with his hips. Grinding into me while pinning my hands behind my back.
The next moment is a blur of motion. Roman is there, all dangerous eyes and shoving hands. He pushes Eddie back hard enough that he stumbles, and before I can process it, Roman’s fist connects with Eddie’s jaw with a sickening thwack.
The room seems to freeze, eyes turning to the spectacle.
I’d be lying if I said that seeing Roman hit Eddie didn’t give me a bit of a flutter in the nether regions.
Eddie straightens, wiping at his mouth, his eyes ice-cold. ‘You’ll regret that, you poxy English fuck.’
‘Touch her again.’ Roman’s voice shakes with rage. ‘And you won’t get the chance to threaten me.’
Eddie’s gaze flicks between us, then over our shoulders at the crowd. ‘You don’t belong here. She does.’
He turns and melts back into the crowd, throwing a final rage-fuelled look at Roman.
My hands are trembling.
‘My dad won’t throw him out. His family are too important. He won’t want to offend them.’
Roman looks at me with helpless frustration in his eyes. ‘Then what can I do?’
I swallow. ‘Grab some tequila. And dance with me until I’m too tired to think.’
The night blurs into ragged movement and noise.
We dance until my feet ache and my head spins, until the world narrows to the solid press of his body.
I want to blame the alcohol for the way my cheeks heat whenever Roman’s eyes snag on mine.
That it’s the shots’ fault and not the fact that he looks delicious with a haze in his eyes and a loosened shirt collar.
As the night winds down, we end up in one of the quieter corridors, breathless and laughing far too loudly. He backs me gently into an alcove, eyes dark, voice low.
‘God, you’re something else, Maggie.’
‘If it weren’t for Eddie, it might have been close to a perfect night.’ I sigh, leaning heavily against the wall.
‘Let me help you forget,’ he says, dropping to his knees and looking up at me.
When he tugs my panties aside and slides his mouth over my wetness, I lose any misgivings I might have had.
Christ on a bicycle, his damned tongue.
I bite down on my lip to stifle a moan, tightening my fingers in his dark tresses. Seeing Roman here, on his knees, feels like a fever dream, and I can’t help but touch him. To check he’s really between my thighs.
The slide of his tongue across my clit reminds me that this is very much happening. It’s reckless to let him touch me like this while tucked in an alcove, but the way his tongue grazes me has me rooted to the spot. I can barely breathe, far less make rational decisions.
Roman moans, and the deep rumble vibrates against me, weakening my knees. Good lord, it’s been far too long since I’d sought out this particular pleasure. Tipping my head back against the wall, I arch my hips to give Roman more access. More… everything.
‘So demanding,’ he says, grinning up at me. ‘I’ve been dying to taste you.’
As if to prove his point, he rolls his tongue around my tender flesh until I’m tugging at his hair.
‘Holy shit,’ I whimper. ‘Touch yourself too. I need to know you are enjoying yourself.’
I want his throaty moans against me as I come. To help me get out of my head when all of the focus is on me.
‘I’m very much enjoying myself. I could spend the whole night right here.’
‘It’s okay, I know a lot of guys don’t really like it, they just do it to—’
I lose my voice when he nips at me with his teeth. ‘I don’t want you to be thinking of any other guys while I’m tasting you.’
‘Please? For me.’
Roman doesn’t reply, sinking his mouth over me and dragging his tongue through my wetness, but I hear him undo his fly. The lusty moan that soon follows fills me with a wash of need.
His eyes flick to mine. A heady sight to look down on, all filthy gaze and slick-mouthed. Moving back, he presses his tongue flat against me, pulling it over me achingly slowly.
My breath comes in a stuttering pant as I quiver against his face.
I peer past my thighs and catch a glimpse of his dick, thick and engorged between his fingers. A whisper of jealousy rises as I think of all the times I’ve heard other women enjoying that lovely dick through the wall.
I want it.
Bad.
But beggars can’t be choosers, and I’m already nearing the edge of desire, my core thrumming with each heady swell of his tongue.
His hand snakes around my ass, pulling me tight to his face as I lose control, my muscles quaking. Bliss flashes behind my eyes as I come hard, riding Roman’s pretty face.
As the waves of desire peak and fade, Roman gives me no reprieve; he holds me tight to his face and thrusts his tongue deep inside me. His body judders as he fucks his hand, and I lean back to watch. I grow sensitive, but he growls when I try to move.
‘While we’re here, this is mine,’ he demands before sliding his tongue right back inside me, lingering in my taste.
I’m taken aback by his almost vicious demand of me, and it ignites something deep in my core.
A sense of filthy belonging I’ve never felt.
Like he actually wants me. Even if it’s only circumstance, alcohol and stress driving him to crave me.
Roman’s muscles knot beneath his white shirt, the tux jacket long lost to our previous dancing. As he comes, he lets out a desperately throaty noise that has me open-mouthed. Fucking hell, the man’s sex on legs. Or knees, I suppose. How anybody believes this fucker is celibate, I’ll never know.
White coats his fingers as he stands while I fix my dress. We stand staring at each other, all harsh breath and tipsy shame. Well, on my part. Roman doesn’t look in the least bit shameful.
Reaching out, I examine his hand, the smooth white coating his fingers.
‘Do you need a taste, too, Maggie?’ There’s devilment in his eyes as he speaks.
I’m tempted, but I could never admit it. It’s bad enough that he knows I hump my bloody pillow while thinking of him. I need no more shame.
My silence has him tipping his head as he studies me.
Then his other hand is in my hair, tugging my head back while he looks at me.
‘Open your mouth, Princess.’
I obey with a wave of deviance washing over me.
‘There’s a good girl,’ he whispers while lifting his hand and dragging his cum-soaked fingers over my tongue.
The salty taste makes my stomach roil, and my thighs clench. In equal measure. He watches, fascinated as I press my tongue between the digits, indulging him in his filthy request.
‘You’re nothing like I thought you were,’ he murmurs, before dropping his hand and leaning closer. My breath hitches as he tips my head a little further, his eyes snagging on my cum-tainted lips.
‘Oh my God, you little freaks.’ Eliza’s voice cuts through the moment, and Roman steps back, his cheeks flushing as my sister laughs. ‘I wondered where the two of you went, only to find you didn’t even make it to your room.’
‘Eliza,’ I say, smoothing down my clothes and wiping my mouth. ‘Don’t say anything.’
‘As if I’m keeping this story to myself.
I didn’t know you had it in you. Do you know that Fraser and I had a bet that Roman didn’t even know you existed and was just a ploy?
’ Eliza holds up her hands as Roman rights his trousers, barely able to meet my eyes.
‘Well, you sure showed me. Not only does he exist, but you two are a bunch of dirty horn-boxes.’
I’m stumped as to what to say. The fact that they didn’t believe me hurts. Albeit, more so because they were right. I’m predictably pathetic.
Eliza heads off with a laugh, and I turn to Roman with my cheeks three-bars red.
‘I can’t believe she saw that,’ I say, mortified.
Roman drags a thumb over my chin, removing a streak of white that I missed. My mortification monitor increases.
‘Did I have cum on my chin the whole time?’ I squeak.
‘I think it suits you.’ His eyes darken before he takes my hand and drags me along the corridor.