ROME
Chapter twenty
Ismile hearing two giggling voices creep into my room. A body jumps on me, rolling to my right, the next coming to the left.
“Morning,” Indie chirps to my right.
I pry an eye open. “Morning.”
“We have an idea,” Kilah says, propping herself up on her elbows.
“Mmm.” I’m convinced this world has joined all forces to never allow me sleep.
“A picnic,” Indie suggests.
“It’s a nice day, we’re on half term break, and you have the day off,” Kilah adds. “No, Mum or Dad ruining it. Just us.”
We’d have picnics a lot as kids in the backyard under the willow tree. The twins usually invited their dolls along, but I enjoyed it. This may just be the temporary distraction I need to get my mind off Rain.
“Okay,” I agree. “Give me an hour, and I’ll be ready.”
Indie lightly slaps my chest, and Kilah taps my cheek twice before they disappear again.
Taking my phone off charge, I turn it on. Eight new messages from none other than Rain fucking Weston.
I click on the texts. Why? I don’t know. I’m supposed to be ignoring the bastard.
Unknown: Don’t hang up on me.
Unknown: I’ll be back soon. Your ass is my first order of business.
Unknown: I still want those dick pics, and a video too.
Unknown: Here’s mine.
My dick stands when I scroll down to see his veined, wet, hard cock in the photo. I scroll further to see his muscular body completely nude in a full-length mirror. A video is next in the same position, then another close up, his hand wrapped around it.
Heat floods my body as I stare at them, my dick starting to ache, begging to watch them. Thumb hovering over the video, I snatch my earbuds and put them in, locking my bedroom door.
Has this prick got some cyber technology bullshit that will alert him I’ve clicked on them to watch?
Fuck it.
I get back in bed, pull the blanket back up and spit in my hand, then slide it under the waistband of my sleep pants and boxers, already feeling the pre cum.
The second I click on the first video, his heavy breathing flows into my ear.
I tighten my grip as he takes his dick in his hand and begins stroking.
I hate it. I hate that it’s large and perfectly proportionate to the rest of his body, though, I’m bigger. The bastard would probably love it too.
“Fuck, baby,” he groans.
My chest caves at the dark sound, which instinctively has me stroking harder.
His abs constrict, his large chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. “I can just imagine your tasty fucking lips wrapped around this,” he groans deep and slow. My lips part. “You couldn’t resist, could you?” he taunts.
Prick.
His breaths deepen, as do my own as I pull off my pants completely, stroking harder and faster.
“Hard and slow, baby,” he instructs.
I, for some reason, follow the bastard’s orders, slowing my strokes and tightening my grip.
He moans, and I can’t help but stroke faster while flicking my gaze over his erotic face. Just when I feel the need to come, the video stops.
I growl, irritated, flicking to the next.
Sloshing echoes in my head as he slowly strokes up and down his length, teasing, taunting. “You don’t come until I tell you to,” he instructs.
Sweat coats my chest as I kick off the blanket, following his rhythm. His hand rolls around the crown. Without thought, I follow the movement, my body arching off the mattress.
His moans grow louder, and I clamp my mouth shut.
“God, I can just imagine you now, all hot and fucking wet.”
I whimper. Fucking hell! I just whimpered!
No one has ever talked to me like this and knowing this video was made specifically for me is driving me closer to the edge.
“Are you ready, baby?” he groans.
My head swims in an erotic pool of sloshes and moans. His grip tightens, and I follow.
“Five,” he counts. “Four. Three.”
Shit. He’s actually going to make me come.
“Two. One,” he growls.
I watch his ribbons of cum shoot out to cover the mirror. I practically fuck my hand as my stomach tightens, and I convulse, spilling out to cover my hand and torso.
“Don’t stop, Rome,” he orders in a gruff tone, continuing to work himself.
My jaw drops, silent moans cracking, unable to pass my constricted throat as my vision blurs while I continue coming as ordered.
I pant, beads of sweat trickling down my hair line. The lingering sparks are still flying, and I swear to God, I’m twitching.
The video flips to reveal that grinning face. “If you came before I told you to, I’m going to be pissed,” he growls playfully, and I hate that it just made me smile.
Sighing, I take a photo of my still semi-hard dick and the mess he inflicted on me and attach it to the text.
Me: Fuck you.
“I’m an artist,” Kilah says proudly, lifting the lid off the large container to reveal the charcuterie board she made.
Plucking out a piece of cheese, I shove it into my mouth. She made sure to add a lot of fruit and vegetables for Indie to snack on too. To my surprise, Indie takes a piece of salami, secures a piece of cheese in it, and pops it in her mouth.
I watch people pass in the park, enjoying the sun as we sit beside the river.
We’re still rugged up because of the permanent chill in the air this time of year, and it feels juvenile to be having a picnic, but I feel a weight has lifted from my shoulders today.
I’m trying to sort through the mountain of things still there to decipher exactly what it is, but, for the first time in a long time, I feel my smile.
“I um…I have a question, Rome,” Kilah whispers, like she’s ashamed to ask.
“Mmm.”
She pushes her sunglasses higher on her nose and bows her head. “Can I live with you?”
“Things aren’t good at home?”
She tucks the loose strands of her messy bun behind her ears. “I hate it there. Ever since you moved out two years ago, I’m the one Mum and Dad yell at for no reason.”
Kilah’s always been good, but I know she would’ve told them she was staying at a friend’s house the night she left to go drink and party. Indie can escape by staying on campus. I have as little contact with our parents as possible. Kilah has nowhere to go.
“I can’t keep you at my house per se.” I dip my chin, looking over my sunglasses. “That would be kidnapping.” Her shoulders slump. “But you’re old enough to decide where you want to live. My door is always open to you, K.” I nudge Indie’s shoulder. “You too, P.”
“So, we can stay again tonight?” Kilah lifts her head, hopeful.
I take my phone from my pocket and stand. “I’ll call them and let them know. I do have training tomorrow afternoon, though.”
They both give the same we’re old enough to stay home alone look. I ruffle their hair and they grumble, swatting at my hands.
As I pull up Mum’s number and lean against a tree a few meters away, a chill prickles my neck.
I look over my shoulder, scanning the large park.
A few parents play with their kids, others simply walking past, nothing unusual.
So why do I get the feeling I’m being stared at directly?
Not in the sense I’m being recognised for who I am, but… watched.
Putting it down to the ever-present state of paranoia Rain has driven me into, I dial the number, putting it to my ear.
“Morning, sweetheart,” Mum greets.
I once loved hearing the comforting sound of my mother’s voice. Now, it’s like sandpaper scraping against my brain.
“Morning, Mum. Indie and Kilah are staying with me again tonight.”
“Uh…I don’t know if that’s a—”
“They’re on break, Mum. We don’t see each other much and they want to stay and spend a few days with me.”
“You have commitments, Rome,” she argues dryly.
“And they’re sixteen,” I state calmly. “They’ve asked to stay, and I agreed. This isn’t me asking permission. This is me informing you.”
I pull the phone away and hang up.