Chapter 19 #2
"I couldn't have won that fight without you," he says between kisses. "You saw what none of my men saw."
"That's not—"
"I need to reward you for that."
"I thought I was a servant. I wasn't aware that slaves got rewarded.
" I turn my head, letting shame wash over me.
I'm going to let him use my body, just so I can feel close to him.
But he's going to walk out those doors and make plans to have dinner with other women and maybe choose one of them to marry.
And there's nothing I can do to stop him.
But I don't want him to stop doing what he's doing.
He laughs against my throat, and I feel it rumble through his chest where it's pressed against mine. Then he rolls his hips forward and I feel him hard against my thigh, and my breath catches.
"This," he says, grinding against me slow enough that I feel every inch of his dick, "is a different type of reward."
Roman turns me around and presses my back against his chest and his mouth drops to the side of my neck.
One arm wraps around my waist and holds me there while his other slides down the front of my stomach, over the fabric of my shirt, past the waistband of my jeans.
He pops the button with his thumb and drags the zipper down and his fingers push under the elastic of my underwear. I grab his forearm with both hands.
"Relax," he says against my ear, and his fingers slide lower, slipping into my moisture. I hear the breath leave his chest in a groan that vibrates against my back. "Jesus, Mila."
"Rome," I whimper almost in protest. If he does this, I'm not sure if I can take it. God, I want it, but my heart. I'm going to destroy myself like this, letting him so close to me when I know we have no shot. Besides, he's way older than me, and who would ever respect that?
"Shh," he purrs as his fingers move through the slickness and find my clit, pressing down until my knees almost buckle. He catches me with the arm around my waist and holds me upright against his body. "Do you feel how wet you are, Mila? Stop fighting this. Let me have you."
How do I tell him why I need him to stop? How can I end my own desire when it's what I want? When he's what I want?
His fingers are circling me in slow, firm strokes and my head falls back against his shoulder, hips are moving on their own, pushing into his hand, chasing the pressure. Every time I move my hips, I grind against him and he groans again.
"Fuck, I wanna make you feel good." His mouth sucks at my neck, and he bites down on the tendon below my ear and I gasp. "Are you always this wet for me or is this special?"
"Shut up."
"Answer me."
I don't want to answer him. I don't want him to know I lie awake at night wishing I were in his bed, heart aching because he's going to choose someone besides me. "Always," I whisper, and I hate myself for saying it. But his fingers move faster, driving my pleasure.
"Always," he repeats against my ear. It's sheer satisfaction I hear in his voice, enjoyment that I worship the ground he walks on, but now all I can think about is chasing the sensation, closing in on climax.
"I like you needy like this, Mila." Roman kisses my neck.
"I want you to drip for me all day long, every day. "
He works me with his hand still inside my jeans, his palm flat against my mound and his two fingers rubbing my clit in tight circles that get faster every time I moan.
His mouth never leaves my neck. He bites and then he soothes it with his tongue and then he bites again in a different spot, and my nails are digging into his forearm as I tremble.
"Does that feel good?"
"Oh, holy fuck, yes."
"Tell me… Use your words, Mila."
"It feels good." My voice is wrecked. My legs are weak. I'm so close. "It feels so fucking good, Rome."
"Louder."
"Yes… Oh, God, so good." I'm almost yelling and I don't care because his fingers are relentless and my whole body is trembling. I can feel the orgasm building the center of my core, getting closer with every circle of his fingers.
"You wanna come?"
"Yes."
"Say please."
"Fuck you," I grunt, and he laughs against my neck. His fingers press harder and move faster, and my legs are shaking. I'm so fucking close, I could cry. It's building pressure between my legs is so intense, I might piss myself, but I need it.
"Please." It comes out broken and desperate, and I don't even care anymore. "Please, Rome."
"Good girl."
His fingers twist and swirl harder, and I shatter.
My whole body locks up against his chest and I groan.
My knees give, though he holds me through it with his arm tight around my waist, and his fingers continue moving, drawing it out until I'm shaking and twitching against his hand.
The sounds coming out of me are closer to sobs than moans as he whispers praise in my ear.
"So incredible that you let me see you like this. You know that?" He kisses me. "You're so beautiful when you fall apart for me."
He pulls his hand free from my jeans and I sag against him, breathing hard. My eyes are closed, my legs useless. I can feel his hard dick pressed against my lower back, and his breathing is fast and ragged against my ear.
"How was that?" he asks.
"I can't feel my legs." I grin and suck in a breath. After all of that, I need more oxygen, and maybe some fresh air to breathe. It's hot in here.
"You don't need your legs for what's next."
He grips my hips and walks me forward until my thighs hit the counter where a collection of protein powders and hydration drinks are organized.
Then his hands hook into my jeans and underwear at my hips and he shoves them down to my knees in one pull.
It makes me gasp in shock, but the way his teeth sink into my shoulder snaps me out of it instantly.
"Bend over."
I lean forward and press my palms flat on the counter, and my hair falls around my face. I hear him behind me pushing his shorts and boxers down and then his hands are on my hips again, fingers gripping my flesh as I feel him drag himself through the wetness between my legs.
"Oh, God," I whimper, now totally lost in the moment with him. I ache for him to be inside me.
"You want this?"
Nodding, I look back over my shoulder at him and the devilish expression on his face.
"How bad?"
"So bad, I can't think straight." It's the truth. He makes me so confused and overwhelmed sometimes that I'm not using my brain. Like now, when my greedy pussy is weeping for him to push in.
"Tell me what you want. I want to hear the words."
"Would you just put your fucking dick in me?"
He pushes into me from behind, and I moan so loudly, it echoes in the room. The angle is deep and my jeans are holding my legs together, which makes everything tighter, and I can feel every inch of him.
"Fuck," he grits out through his teeth and his fingers dig into my hips. "Oh, holy fuck, Mila."
Roman pulls back and drives in again and my sweaty palms slide on the counter. I have to brace my elbows on the Formica to keep from going face-first into it. He does it again and again, and each thrust is hard and deep and it has me making sounds I've never heard come out of my mouth.
"You're so tight with your legs pinned like this." His hand runs up my spine under my shirt, and he presses down on the small of my back. When he pulls me back, the angle changes and I gasp so hard, I choke on it.
"Right there," I manage. "Don't move, oh, my God." I sound like a blubbering idiot and I don't care. It's so incredible.
"Here?" He drives into the same spot, and I groan.
"Yes. Fuck. Yes."
He keeps that angle and picks up his pace, and his hand stays pressed on my lower back, holding me in the arch. His grip is punishing, but I want to feel this on my body for days.
"Touch yourself," he says. "I want to feel your tight little pussy squeeze me."
I slide one hand between my legs and press my fingers against my clit and the combination of his thrusts and my own touch is so overwhelming I almost lose control. I whimper and gasp and rock my hips.
"That's it." His breathing is ragged now. "That's it, Mila. Let me hear you."
"Oh, God," I say, trembling. "I'm so close."
"Then come for me," he says. "Right fucking now."
I do. My whole body seizes, and I scream into my arm as I clench around him so hard, his rhythm breaks. My core clenches around him and my stomach jerks in convulsions while I rub my clit and whimper.
He fucks me through it, and then I feel him come inside me in hot, rhythmic pulses, flooding me. I let my hand drop from my clit, feeling his cum dribble out of me and drip onto my fingertips, as his hand smooths over the curve of my ass.
"God, you're perfect in every way," he growls.
Then he pulls out, and I groan and straighten up slowly, bracing myself on the bench because my legs are trembling.
He pulls his shorts up, and I reach down and pull my underwear and jeans over my hips and button them with fingers that won't stop shaking.
"You felt incredible," he says, but I remind myself that this is just sex. I can't let any of this trick me into letting my heart feel anything.
"Mm," I hum, unable to find words I think are appropriate.
"Go on… Find the guys and wait for me. I'm going to shower and I'll be out in a bit." He presses a kiss to the back of my head, gripping my shoulders gently as my bottom lip quivers.
"Do you want me to have Sorin and Rebecca put dinner on?" I ask, swallowing a bubble of emotion that wants to work its way up.
"Sure, something light, though." He sounds farther away now, and I turn to see him slinking off toward the showers in the back of the room.
That's it?
That's all I get from him tonight? The sex is good, but doesn't he realize what it does to me?
Maybe it's my fault for allowing it—for wanting it. Maybe if I told him no instead of letting him sweep me off my feet, he'd realize I'm not going to keep fucking him while he chooses to marry someone else.
Or maybe my heart would shatter into a million pieces and I'd end up dying of broken heart syndrome.