Chapter 27
TWENTY-SEVEN
MAGGIE
After half an hour of searching, I find Roman in the downstairs toilet, hunched over the sink and dabbing at a scrape on his perfectly formed abs.
Blood stains the porcelain in ruby streaks, not heavy, but still a shock. He’s got a wad of toilet paper pressed to it, and an unreadable expression.
‘What happened?’
His eyes catch mine in the mirror.
‘I didn’t want to worry you.’
‘Well, get worrying me, because it’s that or rage. Who did this to you?’
The scrape is surrounded by an already blooming bruise, and I notice a handful more on his arms. ‘I slipped on the stairs.’
For a professional liar, he’s not very convincing.
‘Did you fall completely unaided?’
The hesitation has me coming into the room properly, closing and locking the door behind me. Roman turns, leaning back against the sink.
‘Eddie?’ I ask.
Roman drops the lightly bloodied paper in the toilet and sighs. ‘Eddie.’
‘Fuck. He shoved you?’
‘Yes.’
‘On purpose?’
‘I’m not sure he’s known for being a clutz.’
A fierce anger swells in my chest. I brought Roman here, and I’ve promised to bring him home in one piece, and Eddie-Fucking-Stewart isn’t going to get in my way. Promises mean something to me. ‘I’m going to kill him.’
‘I have no desire to be the one who finally shoves you over that personal moral threshold. It’s only one more day. We can leave tomorrow and forget about all of this.’
Only my lifelong attempts at being unreadable stop the wince showing on my face. Roman wants to forget all about this? Or me? Had I started believing the yarn I spun myself? No. There is something there. Beyond the fallacy, there’s attraction. Undeniable.
I grab a towel and move to him, gently pressing it to the scraped flesh on his stomach. The heat of his breath whispers over my cheek as I focus on dabbing the graze.‘Had he tried anything else? Other than the night on the patio?’
Roman’s hand softly touches mine, stilling the towel against his stomach. ‘There was a shard of glass in one of my drinks.’
My stomach flips. ‘I’m sorry. I truly didn’t think he would try anything. Not with my family here. We need to tell my dad.’
‘Maggie—’
‘He’s going to kill you, Roman.’
‘And yet,’ he says gently, ‘He’s tried three times, and I’m still here. We only need to get through tonight. What will your dad do? Kick him out of the wedding?’
Frustration has me scowling. ‘Maybe. But I’d guess no. Family optics matter more than my boyfriend.’
‘Mm.’
‘Our families are close. My dad won’t want to offend them,’ I say, bitterness creeping in.
Roman’s mouth tightens. ‘Your dad can’t possibly think Eddie is good for you.’
I shrug. ‘What does it matter?’
‘It should matter. We aren’t living in medieval times.’
‘We might as well be. At least then I wouldn’t be expected to take on the family business. Just pop out a string of kids and perish.’
‘That doesn’t sound better,’ Roman says, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
‘You deserve to be happy.’
I smirk at him. ‘Look who’s talking.’
‘Fair point,’ he concedes. ‘But still.’
‘What have I even got to offer other than my family heritage? I can answer the phone and pick up coffee. I can burn cookies and knit unevenly armed cardigans. But I can’t kill people.’
‘That is not a con for most men.’
‘Isn’t it?’
‘No. Most people are somewhat put off by murder. Can’t say I’ve ever seen it noted on a dating app profile. When most people discuss body count, it means a whole different thing.’
I smile despite myself.
‘You’re funny. And kind. And smart. And you care about your family. You’ve got plenty to offer.’
‘And yet I’ve landed you here, bashed up and bleeding even though you’ve done nothing but look out for me, despite the fact I don’t deserve it.’
His skin is warm as I splay my hand over his chest, and stand on my tiptoes, brushing my lips along his jaw.
‘Let me make it up to you,’ I whisper, skimming his stomach, avoiding the scrape, until my fingers settle over his belt buckle.
‘You don’t need to—’ Roman begins, until I let out a slutty little moan against his neck.
‘I want to. I want to get on my knees and have you fuck my mouth until you feel better. Don’t you want to?’
I pull back just enough to blink up at him through my lashes.
‘Fuck, Maggie. Yes I want to. But you’ve got nothing to prove.’
Talking dirty isn’t my forte, but I want to make him feel good. So I push on.
‘I can prove to you that I can swallow your cock.’
The moment he gives in flashes in the widening of his pupils, his breath hitching. Before he changes his mind, I drop to the floor, hitching my bridemaid dress up and settling on my knees at his feet.
I’m wet just looking up at him.
As much as I want to make him feel good for what I’ve done to him, I also really, really want to make him come.
‘Don’t hold back,’ I whisper, as I undo his belt. He watches me without speaking, a mix of amusement and hunger in his face. ‘I want you to be thinking about this for the rest of the day.’
As soon as I loosen his buttons, his trousers slide onto his well-muscled thighs, nothing but his underwear separating us. I’ve never craved a cock so badly in my whole life, and that’s something coming from someone who can barely function without a daily orgasm.
He’s halfway to hard when I slide the boxer briefs down and unveil his impressive dick. While it’s not excessively long, it’s thick enough to make me doubt my abilities. Girth-tastic, some might say.
Well, I might.
Leaning forward, I tenderly kiss the soft skin, watching his face as I do. His jaw tics when my lips meet flesh, and his fingers clench the edge of the basin behind him.
‘Damn, Maggie.’ Much to my chagrin, he holds himself back from touching me. Clearly possessing far more willpower than I. ‘Show me how badly you want it.’
Oh, I will.
I focus on using my tongue and lips to tease him until he’s fully (and a little terrifyingly) hard. Every time I get close to taking his head into my mouth, I move to his balls until he’s nearly mad with need.
It’s a little mean to tease him so, but I want him as feral as I feel.
I want him to remember me as more than another bedpost notch when we go home.
I tease him until he presses me back against the wall, one arm resting on it above his head while he stares down at me, those eyes glittering with desire.
‘Open your fucking mouth, Maggie, and stop playing with me.’
God that sends fire right between my thighs.
‘Make me,’ I say before biting my lower lip. His other hand moves to my hair, tugging it back until I open my mouth for him. It doesn’t take much convincing, because when this feral side of him appears, I’m done for.
‘Tongue out,’ he demands. I obey.
Gripping his dick, he wipes the tip over my tongue, and I moan at the salty slickness already gathered there.
‘All these years I had no idea that you were waiting on the other side of the wall, so ready and willing to be used.’
‘And yet, here you are, still talking instead of fucking me.’
Before I can say another word, my mouth is stuffed full of hot, hard flesh, pinning me harshly between Roman and the wall. It’s a struggle to take, his girth stretching my lips until they ache, the head of his cock sinking deep enough to make me gag.
‘Fuckkkk,’ he moans, holding himself there while I struggle not to fight for breath.
In through the nose, Maggie. It’s been a while, but you can do this.
His gaze fixes on my face, a smirk lifting his lips. ‘Damn, you look pretty with your mouth full.’
Saliva pools in my mouth, but I can do nothing to swallow it.
‘But you want more, don’t you? I can see it in your eyes. You want me to ruin all this makeup and hair with tears and cum.’
Damn the consequences, I really, really want that.
I nod, and he lets out a laugh, pulling back and letting me take a shaky breath, before pistoning his hips and filling my mouth again.
And again.
I gag and splutter every time he goes deep, hitting the back of my throat. Fucking my throat. Watching him lose himself in pleasure has me writhing against my heels, seeking relief.
He kicks my legs apart with one perfectly shiny brogue.
‘No, Maggie. I want to watch you ache for the rest of the day. To sit through your father’s wedding with a stomach full of cum and a painfully empty pussy. I want you to spend the day craving to get upstairs, where I’ll fuck that sweet cunt until you beg me to stop.’
Holy fuck balls, if he wants me to avoid coming on his foot, he’ll have to curtail that language, because it does ungodly things to me. My pulse quickens as he unleashes a set of wild, unrestricted thrusts upon my face, fucking my mouth like it’s a far more pliable hole than it is.
Bracing my hands against his thighs, I try to control how deep he goes, beginning to struggle as he sinks deeper with each arch of his hips.
There can’t be much more of his monstrous dick, surely?
Sweat glistens on his abs, dripping across the large graze, and I move my tongue against the underside of his cock, craving his undoing.
Roman grabs my wrists in one hand and forces my hands above my head, pressing his body closer to mine as his hips jerk unsteadily.
‘There’s a good girl,’ he groans as he pins my head to the wall, leaving me no space to move while he roughly forces his dick as far as it’ll go.
I choke on the hot ribbons of cum that he shoots into me, his heady moans leaving me squirming as I take every drop.
The cum makes me cough, sending a torrent of it shooting out of my nose, and covering the skin between us. I’ve never been so thoroughly used, not so utterly desperate to be bent over and fucked.
I feel like a rabid dog by the time he pulls back and crouches in front of me.
‘Oh my god, Maggie. Did I go too hard?’
My head twists side to side as I catch my breath, my chest burning after the best workout I’ve had in a very long time. I feel like I’ve just finished a marathon.
He trails his fingers through the cum and saliva that coat my face. ‘You’re one in a fucking million.’
‘Does that mean I can come?’ There’s no hiding how horny I am. I’m not above begging.
He reaches between my thighs and thrusts two fingers into my panties, finding me more than ready for him.
‘Not a chance. I meant what I said. I want you to sit all day thinking about this, and by the time I get you upstairs, you’ll be so wound up that you’ll be desperate.’
Every twist of his fingers has me seeing stars. Enough to have me rolling my hips, but not enough to finish me off.
When he pulls his fingers out of me, I could cry. Finally, he releases his grip on my wrists and pulls me to my feet, turning us to face the mirror.
‘Look at you. Such a perfect mess. I’m going to spend all day thinking about how you look right at this moment, so that I’m just as feral as you by the time this fucking wedding is done.’
I barely recognise the woman in the mirror. All puffy lips and messy-haired, cum staining my face.
It’s just what I’ve always imagined Roman would leave me looking like.
Less the mind-blowing orgasm.