Chapter 8 Roman
ROMAN
“Now this is the best kind of treat to come home to.” I stare down at Jane curled into a ball on the couch and bend to nuzzle my face in her neck. “Wake up, Jane.”
I kiss her warm, soft skin, and she stirs. Her sun-kissed legs lengthen and she unfurls her arms from her chest as she turns to face me.
She blinks up at me. “Roman? What time is it?”
“It’s a little after midnight.” My lips brush hers. “I hate to wake you.” Another kiss. “Kind of. I should let you sleep, but I’m a selfish bastard and want you.”
The rest of my thought, the words, lodge in my throat. I don’t want to think about how little time we have left together.
Still sleepy and eyes half-closed, she yawns. “Did everything go okay?”
“Better than okay, but I don’t want to talk about that. What are you wearing?” She’s in a T-shirt I haven’t seen before and a clean pair of what looks like my boxers.
Her cheeks heat and she turns her face into the cushion, bashful. “I figured you wouldn’t mind. I can change into the robe if it’s a problem.”
“I’m not talking about my boxers. I like you in my clothes. Would love it more if you were out of them.” My teeth nip at her bottom lip. “I mean the shirt.”
We both stare at the words printed on the front of her shirt. It reads, “I have a good heart, but this mouth.”
The corners of her lips twitch. “It’s mine. I got my things from Monty’s room. I’m all set for my flight.”
Not wanting to dwell on her ex or her upcoming departure, I ask, “Are you saying you have a sassy mouth, Jane?”
“Um, yeah.”
“Do you want to know what I want to do with that mouth of yours?”
She wets her lips with a quick swipe of her tongue, and I swear it’s deliberate. She’s torturing me as images of her lush, pouty lips and her hot, pink tongue around my cock flood my mind.
Her gaze dips to my crotch, and she quirks a brow. “I can guess.”
“Can you now?” Hovering above her on the couch, I push back onto my knees. “Then why don’t you show me.”
She shivers, her fingers quickly undoing my belt, button, and zipper as she shimmies to sitting. Big blue eyes look up at me, and her slender hand wraps around my hardening length. God, what a sight.
Jane’s perfect, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say she was made for me.
The tip of her tongue darts from her mouth to touch the head of my cock, and the muscles in my thighs quake as she swirls it around like I’m a goddamn ice cream cone and I’m her favorite flavor.
Holy shit.
Her fiery gaze dances with delight and something else, something possessive. She’s fucking enjoying this, and that thought only makes me swell more.
My cock hits the back of her throat, and I hiss at how tight-fisted she sucks. Squeezing me. I thrust into her mouth, and my fingers burrow into her thick hair. She slowly bobs her head up and down, each time taking as much of me as she can.
Motherfucker.
Something shifts or snaps, and suddenly Jane’s no longer teasing. Her hot slippery mouth pulls faster, lips suctioning my shaft as one hand tugs gently on my balls. Normally, it wouldn’t be enough. Too light, too insignificant, but fuck, not this time. Jane’s touch electrifies me.
“Fuck, Jane.” My head tips back as black dots and silvery lines swim behind my eyelids.
Just like that, I lose the quickly unraveling grasp on my control. The burgeoning pressure burns down my spine and my balls pull up, taut and heavy, in an eruption of ecstasy.
She slows at drawing me in, her mouth easing its grip, as I come so fucking hard I lose my sight and spill deep into her mouth. I pull back, and before she can do or say anything, I sheath myself with a condom from my pants pocket and slide my hands around her waist.
“Roman. What the…” She giggles as I carry her to the dining room table. The perfect height for me.
In one quick motion, I pull off the boxers, and thank fuck she doesn’t have any panties on. Two fingers slide through her soft, slippery folds, and like a good girl, she spreads her legs wide, inviting me.
With my other hand, I yank my pants and boxers down to my knees and sink into her.
The back of her head thumps lightly onto the wood, and in a high-pitched voice she moans, “Oh, my God.”
Though I only came moments ago, I’m still semi-hard, and with a few deep thrusts inside her, I’m rock solid once more.
My fingers circle her clit as I drive into her, and a near animalistic sound tears from Jane’s throat as she arches her back clear off the table. Her pussy spasms around me, muscles rigid, toes curling into the wood, and fingernails digging into my flesh. And then she comes.
Growling and clenching my teeth, I ride out her orgasm, almost there but wanting to make sure she finishes completely before I come again.
Face flushed and lips parted, pure bliss eclipses her features. Watching her come undone causes me to fly over the edge. Blistering tingles fire through me, scoring my veins, and my climax crescendos and bulldozes over me so suddenly that my knees nearly give out.
One hand flies from Jane to clutch the edge of the table in an effort to stay upright. The other tightens my grasp on her hip, pinning her there as I bury myself inside her, until there is no end to her or beginning to me.
“Jane.” My head spins and I lean forward to kiss her.
Limp and mind-blown, I hover over her until I catch my breath. Wordlessly, we move to clean up in the powder room.
Freshly fucked and glowing, she follows me to the kitchen where I get us each a bottle of water.
Sheepishly, she leans against the doorjamb between the kitchen and dining room. “Tell me more about dinner. Tonight. I saw the photos. It looks like everyone’s buying it.”
Nodding, I stalk toward her, not wanting to taint this moment, our final few hours together, with talk of spin-doctoring, Palmira, or any of that shit.
“It did. But I wanted to be here with you. Only one thing on my mind.” My head bends toward her mouth and stops at the knock on the door. “What the hell?”
We silently go to the door and I check the peephole, immediately recognizing the asshole.
“Fuck, it’s Fisher.” I clench my fists at my side, and Jane wheezes and stiffens. “We don’t have to open the door.”
Monty pounds on the door. “Jane, I know you’re in there. Open up. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Let him in.” She motions for me to step back.
“You don’t have to talk to him.” I try again to impress upon her that she doesn’t have to do this. Not now. Not ever.
“I have to talk to him eventually, and now might be better. I don’t want to run into him at our place tomorrow.”
Before I can say anything else, she turns the knob and swings the door open. Montgomery Fisher looms in the doorway, light, shaggy hair falling over his forehead.
His sharp, angular features appear more haggard than I recall from seeing him on TV, and I suppose it could have something to do with his team losing the championship. His bloodshot eyes and grim expression are signs of a loser, and I can’t help but think it suits him.
“I fucking knew it was you.” He jabs his finger at her and pushes his way into the suite.
As much as I don’t want him here, it’s a necessary evil. We only just cleaned up the mess of the photos; we don’t need another opportunist getting wind of this conversation and taking more pics for the Internet.
“What are you talking about?” She worries her bottom lip, but apart from that, her expression is unreadable. I can’t tell what seeing her ex is doing to her.
“You fuck him?” His question stuns me, and it takes me a second to process the meaning, and Jane gasps.
In that time, Fisher gets in her face, features pointed and menacing.
“You said you fucking would. Did you do this to get back at me, or did you plan this? I mean, fuck.” He stands tall, hand brushing his hair back from his forehead, and his features pinch in agony.
“Janie, I get that I hurt you, but I never thought you were this vindictive.”
“What are you talking about? And how did you find me?”
He’s on a different track, ignoring or not comprehending what Jane says. “Did you fucking know he’d be here in this hotel?”
“Monty, I don’t—”
He grabs her by the bicep, and seeing his hand on her does something to me. I fly at him, rip his hand off her, and push him up against the wall.
“Get the fuck out, asshole.”
Unexpectedly, he belts out a laugh and sways under my grip, not in the least bit afraid. He’s drunk, maybe even high.
“You fucked him, didn’t you.” He pushes out of my grasp, and I let him go.
The fool is harmless and heartbroken. He’s had time to come to grips with what he’s lost, or more like, who. It serves him right.
“Janie, you’re a whore.” His vitriolic slur causes me to see red.
I toss him across the foyer. “You fucking piece of shit.”
Monty lands on his ass, head lightly bumping into the door.
“Roman, no.” Jane grabs at my arm, trying to stop me from advancing on him.
Reluctantly, I stop and glance over my shoulder at her. “I’m going to make him bleed for talking to you like that.”
“Please. No. He may deserve it, and if this were last night, right after I found him in the bathroom, I’d have helped you.” She nears me, and I turn to face her.
Jane places her hands on each of my biceps.
“He isn’t worth the trouble he could cause.
” She lowers her voice and her stare intensifies, penetrates into my soul.
“This time with you has made me see that none of that matters. I’m better off without him, and I don’t care about him.
But I need to talk to him. Can you please give us a minute? ”
“Alone?” Fuck, no way.
“Yes.” She tugs me toward the hallway to the bedroom. “I’ll be fine. He won’t hurt me, even if he says nasty things. If I need you, I promise to holler.”
My gut clenches at the thought, and though every fiber of my being wants to argue with her and plant my ass on the sofa, I nod.
From the corner of my eye, I see Fisher stumble to get up, blinking several times as if he’s unable to focus on us.
It’s childish and uncalled for, but I can’t help myself. My hands cradle her face and I kiss her long and hard. Fisher groans obscenities but doesn’t make a move toward us.
I stab a finger at him and glare. “You fucking step out of line and mine’ll be the last face you see tonight.”
He snorts but doesn’t utter a comeback, and I leave. Once in the bedroom, I sag and press my forehead against the wall.
Fuck, I gotta respect her wishes even if it’s killing me not to go out there. To not declare to him and the rest of the world that Jane and I are together.
If only.