Chapter 27
His body rocks above mine, in and out slowly, arms holding tight, teeth grazing against the side of my neck as I try to spread my thighs wider to allow him in deeper.
“You feel so fucking good, sweetheart.” His rasping voice sends shivers down my spine, a euphoric kind of feeling, like I’m floating in the clouds somewhere above the mountains that surround us.
The delicious grind of his hips and the deep, penetrating thrusts has me seeing stars. It’s not enough and yet too much all at the same time. I wanted harder, rougher, untamed, but he’s so gentle, there’s no bite.
Pushing at his chest, I force him to his hands, hovering over me, his cock buried between my legs, and then I lift a leg and push.
He could have resisted easily if he wanted, but he allows me to move him, and I follow until he’s flat on his back, and I’m straddling his hips, sinking down onto him.
In this position I feel fuller, a pressure blooming in my lower abdomen as I grind against him, the coarse hair around the base of his dick adding a friction to my clit that wasn’t there before.
His hands squeeze my thighs as he watches, his whiskey eyes more like molten gold.
Reaching for the hem of the t-shirt, I rip it off, throwing it down with the boxers he discarded earlier, leaving me as naked as he is.
He groans as his eyes devour me, hands coming up to touch, to explore.
They follow the path of my waist, up over my ribs to my breasts before he brings them inwards where he cups them, fingers pinching the peaks of my nipples.
My hips stutter, my skin prickling in response to his hands and the precious way he touches me.
I roll my hips over his hard length, letting it pull from me before I lower back onto it, finding a rhythm as I move.
His hands act as a guide, not forcing or moving, just there to feel as the muscles in his neck pull taut while he watches.
His eyes leave no part of me untouched. I use his chest as support, lifting and sinking, over and over, but I can’t take the full length, not when, at this angle, it feels so fucking deep, it’s almost too much.
I lift and roll, lowering about halfway when his hands snap to my hips, biting.
“Sit.” He demands.
“Roman,” I moan, “I can’t.”
“You fucking can and you will,” His voice is all growl. “You wanted control, well, here it is. Now you need to take it.”
I sink lower, but it still isn’t all of him and it’s not nearly enough to satisfy him. A deep, dark chuckle rumbles from him as his hands slide beneath my thighs, keeping me from going down again.
“Baby,” His fingers flex, “You take all of me when I’m fucking you, you can take all of it when you’re fucking me. Sit on it.”
Holy shit.
“Now,” His hands slide around my thighs and then to my hips, “Sit. On. It.”
With a thrust up, he fills me entirely, a cry sounding from me as I adjust to the stretch and the fullness. It’s different being on top, more, and while it feels insanely good, it also feels like I can’t move.
“You want help, baby?” Roman asks.
I give a simple nod, shaking as I try to get a grip and do what my body is screaming for me to do. I have felt nothing like this, otherworldly and grounding all at the same time.
He lifts his hips to stay buried inside and then starts moving me over him, grinding and lifting as I support myself, feeling every single swipe of his cock and every grind.
“Take over,” He says after a few minutes, his voice a low purr that has my body responding in ways I don’t fully understand. “Show me how much you want it.”
I follow the same rhythm he had just shown me with his hands, keeping it slow at first, my lashes fluttering as the pressure builds, turning and morphing, my skin prickling and stomach tightening as my clit grinds into him.
“Look at you,” He praises, “Doing so fucking well, sweetheart. Keep going, you can do it.”
“Fucking hell,” I moan, his words hitting exactly where they’re meant to. I clench around him, tremors running through me, my fingers curling into his chest, leaving red lines where my nails bite.
“Get yourself there, baby,” He groans. “That’s fucking it.”
He knows exactly what strings to pluck, where to focus his attention to have my body singing for him. My orgasm barrels to the surface, and I cry out as everything tightens, my hips stuttering as my climax takes control.
“So fucking pretty when you fall apart,” He rasps, his hands forcing my hips to keep moving, dragging out every second.
I collapse on top of him and his arms come around me, holding me to him, tight, and his hips begin to move softly, in and out, steady but still so deep I feel him in my bones. I whimper into the crook of his neck, kissing softly, tasting the salt from his skin against my lips.
“I never want this to end,” His voice shakes as he whispers, breaths coming out fast. I can feel his whole body trembling, but he stays firm with his thrusts, still so sensitive it’s almost too much. “Let me keep you, baby.”
“Yes,” My answer is instantaneous. “I’m yours.”
“Fuuucccckkkk,” He groans, his thrusts turning choppy before he stills, spilling into me, cock jerking before he relaxes but he doesn’t let go.
I shuffle a little, forcing myself onto my elbows so I can look down on his face, but his arms never truly let go. He runs his fingers down my spine, as soft as a whisper. Whiskey eyes bounce between mine, but everything in him is relaxed, soft, content.
“Hey,” I whisper.
“Hi, baby.” He grins, giving me those smile lines and the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. My heart twists, thumping hard enough I hear it in my ears.
Easing off him, I wince as he slips out of me and I shift until I land on my back beside him, staring up at the ceiling. He reaches for my hand, his thumb seeking the ring on my finger before he lifts and then presses his lips to it.
“You.” He breathes. “It’s you.”
I lazily roll my head toward him. “What’s me?”
“The bigger picture.” He chuckles lightly. “The thing that matters more.”
“More than what?”
“Everything, Niamh,” He sighs, “I got a letter.”
Rolling until I’m on my side, I face him, my hands cupped beneath my cheek, “From who?”
“My grandfather,” He turns to look at me, “He explained why.”
“Why you had to get married?” I frown.
“Mm,” He nods, “And I understand now.”
“Why was it?” I press.
He shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter.” With a gentle hand, he untucks my hand from under my face and fidgets with the ring. “This was my mother’s.”
My eyes widen. “What!?”
“It was my grandmother’s before that.” He continues.
“Roman!” I gasp, “No. You have to take it back.”
The laugh that erupts from him startles me, and I stare at him like he’s lost his mind.
Maybe he has. There’s no fucking way this man gave me his mother’s ring.
Not when this whole thing is — was — fake.
I think back to that day, how he had stared at it, the way his eyes had glazed, but he never said anything.
I figured he had picked them up from a store; hell, I wasn’t even expecting a damn ring.
Now I find out it’s his mother’s — his grandmother’s.
I don’t feel important enough to wear it.
“Roman,” I try to catch his attention, “I’m so fucking serious.”
“I’m not taking it back, you’re keeping it.”
“What the hell!?”
“After my mother died, the ring went to me. It always goes to the oldest in the next generation to be used as their wedding ring. I was never going to get married, Niamh, it wasn’t something I sought until I physically had to.”
“But…why?”
“I looked for something else,” He admits.
“I was basically bribing you into this, and I wanted you to have something at least, a ring, but nothing fit. I couldn’t find anything.
I looked at hundreds of rings online, and in store but nothing was right.
They were all beautiful, but they weren’t right.
I couldn’t come to you with nothing, not when you saved me. ”
“It was an agreement,” I defend.
“No, you saved me. You gave me back something I had worked my whole life for. The money, it didn’t mean anything, what you did was and will always be more. This place, it’s my home. It’s all I know, and I was going to lose it without you.”
“You saved me too,” I remind him.
His smile is gentle, “Nothing was right,” He continues, “I wanted you to have something and then the morning you signed the contract, I’d been looking through the office for something, I can’t even remember what it was and I opened the bottom drawer.
That one’s saved for the archives, old contracts, invoices and such, and on top of the files was the box. I didn’t put it there.”
I can feel my eyes growing warm, burning with building tears, and my throat gets tight.
“My grandfather was the last person who went in that drawer, and I don’t know what had compelled me to go in there, but there it was, and that was it.”
“I shouldn’t have it,” I rasp.
“No, you should,” He kisses my hand, “It suits you, sweetheart and my mother?” He whistles, “She would have loved you.”
A single, hot tear slides out of the corner of my eye and disappears into my hairline.
“I’m sorry she isn’t here.” I whisper.
“Me too.”
“Thank you.” I reach for him, cupping the side of his face. “I’ll take care of it.”
“I know you will,” He nods, “And I’ll take care of you.”
“I know you will.” I mimic his words, and he grins, a silent laugh shaking his shoulders.
A yawn stretches my mouth, and I know it’s only a matter of time before sleep takes us both, so I slip from the bed to use the bathroom to clean up. When I return, he’s on his back, hands behind his head.
“Come here,” He says, opening one arm to allow me in against him. Once I’m there, pressed up against the side of him, my head resting in that tender spot between the shoulder and his chest, he reaches for the switch for the lamps, plunging us into darkness.
Peace washes over me, fatigue pulling my eyes closed as my body relaxes, but right before sleep fully takes me, I hear him speak.
“I need you, Niamh.” He says it quietly, as if talking to the dark, and I wonder if he thinks I’m sleeping and can’t hear him. “I need you, and I want you to need me back. I never knew I needed to be saved until I made you my wife.”
There’s a beat of silence, and I have to force myself to remain still, to keep my breathing even.
“Falling in love with you is easy.” He sighs, “You make it impossible not to, and everything I have ever been told about love makes sense. There’s no choice, no other option, it just is, and you’re helpless to stop it.
I used to think I feared falling in love…
” A clock ticks steadily in the silence, “But I think the scariest part is you not loving me back.”