Chapter 25 Mila
MILA
Ican't believe I'm kissing him again. Tears still burn my eyes and moisten my cheeks, but my lips are locked on Roman's like he's essential for life.
"I do hate you," I say again, between kisses, and he pulls back barely an inch.
"You keep saying that, but I don't think you know what it means." His hands are on my hips, guiding me closer to the bed while his mouth devours mine.
"I mean it."
"Then stop kissing me."
I can't stop.
He may not be essential for life, but this is all I will ever get with him. I won't give it up until I am forced to.
I grab the hem of his shirt and pull it up, and he lets go of my face long enough for me to drag it over his head and drop it. Then his mouth is back on mine, hungrier now, hands sliding from my hips up over my curves and back.
"This doesn't change anything," I tell him, splaying my hands on his chest, feeling his heartbeat under my fingers.
"I know."
"I'm still angry with you."
"I know that too." He continues backing me up until my legs hit the bed and I sit and he follows me down, pressing me onto the mattress with his body. The whole bed jostles, bumping the nightstand and making my book fall to the floor.
"You're an asshole," I say as his mouth moves down my jaw to my neck.
"You've mentioned it." His teeth close on the skin below my ear and I gasp and my hips lift off the bed and I can feel him smile against my throat. "You want me to stop?"
"No."
"Then stop telling me you hate me and let me touch you."
He pushes my T-shirt up, his hand dragging along my ribs, and I arch enough for him to pull it over my head.
My bra goes next—one hand behind my back, and with a single twist it's gone.
He looks down at me, bare from the waist up, and I watch his eyes travel from my face to my chest and the way he devours me with his gaze makes my stomach clench.
"You're staring," I say as I reach for him.
"Staring is rude. This is worship, sweetheart." He lowers his mouth to my breast, his lips closing around the nipple, and the heat of his tongue makes me moan.
"Rome—"
"Mmm." The vibration of it against my breast sends a jolt straight between my legs.
"I like when you call me that.” He sucks harder, and I whimper as my hips come off the bed.
Then he moves to the other breast, tongue first, circling the nipple slowly before pulling it into his mouth.
I twitch and writhe and wrap my legs around his hips.
"You're sensitive like this," he says against my skin before he flicks his tongue across the nipple making me gasp. "And here." He bites gently, and I whimper. "I'm learning where you break."
"Well, break me then," I groan as I pull him up for a kiss. HIs lips cover mine, tongue searching me as my body begins grinding up on him.
His hand comes up to a breast, rolling the nipple between his thumb and forefinger, tugging gently, and I'm squirming and breathing between kisses and losing track of every thought I've ever had.
When his hand leaves my breast and travels down my stomach, pushing under the waistband of my sweatpants and underwear in one motion I whimper. His fingers slide through the wetness between my legs and the groan that comes out of him vibrates through my chest.
"Fuck, Mila."
"Don't act surprised… You're the one who did it." His hips pump against my outer thigh while he strokes me and I tense again.
"I'm not the least bit surprised, baby." His fingers find my clit and press down and my whole body jerks. "When was the last time someone touched you here?"
"You know the answer to that." Blood rushes to my face. What is he doing to me? He knows I was a virgin when I came here.
"Tell me anyway. I want to hear you say it."
I'm embarrassed. I don't know if he likes that or if he's trying to degrade me. Some guys get off on that. "You're the only one who's touched me."
"That's right, because you belong to me now." He speeds up, and I moan and my hips rock against his hand. "Are you starting to understand yet?"
"Are you always this possessive?"
"With you? Yes." He presses harder and my breath hitches.
"With you, I'm worse than possessive. I'm obsessed.
" His fingers circle tighter and faster and my head falls back against the pillow and my mouth opens and no sound comes out for a few seconds because the pleasure is so intense it's stolen my voice.
"So fucking beautiful like this, Mila."
His fingers work me steadily, pressing and circling and adjusting every time my body tells him to.
When I moan he goes harder. When I bite my lip he goes faster.
When my thighs start trembling he leans down and takes my nipple back into his mouth and sucks and the dual sensation makes me grab the sheets and hold on.
"Please," I whimper.
"Please what?"
"Please don't stop." It's incredible. I'm so close.
"I'm not stopping. Tell me what you need." Roman's breath dusts my moist nipples, chilling them and I shudder and whine out loud.
"Faster. Harder. I'm so close." My voice trembles as I plead with him.
He gives me both. His fingers press into my clit and tip me right over. Orgasm builds so fast it catches me off guard, climbing from the base of my spine through my stomach and detonating behind my ribs. I writhe and jolt, almost screaming because I can't hold back the sounds.
"God, your pussy squeezes my finger so tight," he says against my skin.
My back bows off the mattress and my thighs clamp around his hand and I keep writhing in pleasure as his fingers move against me, drawing it out. When the last wave rolls through me I collapse, gasping, trembling, boneless.
"Oh my God, Rome…"
"You know you're the only one who calls me that," he says, carefully lifting himself off the bed as he peels my sweats and panties down in one pull.
"Yeah? What do they call you? Boss? Because I'm not about to call you that." My pants go to the floor and I spread my legs, touching myself lightly as he pulls his shirt off, then undoes his belt.
"I like it… You can call me Rome if you want." His eyes drink me in, watching my fingers swirl in my own juices, and I watch his thick cock spring free, standing on end for me.
He comes back between my legs, pushing my knees apart with his hips, and the press of his bare skin against mine—chest to chest, stomach to stomach—makes me pull him down and kiss him deep.
I reach between us and wrap my hand around him and stroke a few times and his breath catches against my mouth.
"Your hands are going to end this before it starts," he warns, grinding into my grasp.
"Then hurry up, Rome," I say playfully. Finally, I'm starting to relax into this moment, and remember how intoxicating he is.
"Bossy."
"You're wasting time," I tell him, still stroking him and he groans.
"I'm serious, Mila. If you don't let go, I'm going to come in your hand, and that's not what either of us wants right now."
"How do you know what I want?"
"Because I can feel how wet you are against my thigh and you don't want my hand. You want me inside you." He takes my wrist and pulls my hand away and holds it against the pillow. "Am I wrong?"
"You're not wrong."
"Then let me fuck you senseless…" He reaches between us and positions himself and I feel the head of his cock pressing against me. My hips tilt up and he pushes in, one long stroke that fills me completely, and I moan embarrassingly loud. I try to hide my face but he bites my neck hard.
"Don't hide from me," he growls against my skin. "I want to hear you. Every sound."
"Then do something worth making noise about," I purr, clawing at his sides.
He pulls back and drives in and my bed creaks and the headboard taps the wall. He does it again, harder, and I gasp and my legs wrap around his waist.
"More," I say.
"Not yet. You're gonna come again first."
"I already came."
"And you're gonna come again." He rolls his hips on the next thrust, grinding deep, and the friction on my clit makes me whimper. "Right?"
"Maybe."
"Not maybe." He does it again, grinding at the bottom of the stroke, and my eyes close and my mouth opens.
"Okay," I breathe. "Yeah… I think…"
"Definitely." He shifts, sliding his hand under the small of my back, lifting my hips, changing the angle. The next thrust hits a spot inside me that makes me moan and grab the sheets.
"There?" he asks.
"There. Don't you dare move."
"That’s my girl." He drives into the same spot over and over while his free hand slides between us and his thumb finds my clit and starts circling. The pressure is devastating.
"How does that feel?" he asks but I can't speak. I'm rocking upward, panting and whimpering, but the ability to form words is gone. "I want to hear you say it."
"Oh, God." My voice breaks. "Ro—oh…"
"Stay with me." His thumb presses harder and his pace picks up. "Talk to me. Tell me what you feel."
"Everything. I feel everything."
"Be specific."
"Roman—"
The pressure builds faster, coiling in my core until every muscle in my body is pulled taut and I can't speak or think or do anything except hold the sheets and pray I don't spontaneously combust.
"So close," I whimper.
"Look at me," he says, and I do, and the rawness in his eyes is what breaks me.
The orgasm tears through me and I scream again, my back arching. The pleasure rips through my muscles, shattering my ability to control myself, and convulsions take over my entire body. I clench around him so hard his rhythm falters, and he grunts before nearly collapsing.
"Fuck—" He drives into me through it, his control gone. His pace is desperate and uneven, and I'm still pulsing around him. Every time I clench, he groans louder and thrusts harder.
Then he buries himself and his whole body goes rigid. I feel him pulse inside me in long hot waves while he groans into the curve of my neck with his mouth open against my skin and his fists twisting the sheets beside my head.