Round 31
ROUND THIRTY-ONE
ROSE
Incensed, he grips my ass with a fierceness that sends me wild. His fingers bruise my skin and drag my cheeks apart. Then he slams me against the wall, inhaling my breath mercilessly and replacing it with his grunt of pain. Of desire. Of pure, vicious need.
“Oh, God.” I grind against the waistband of his pants, desperate for contact. Dying to be touched. To be used. To be loved the way I know only he could do it. “Ollie.”
“Say yes.” He pins me against the wall with his hips, freeing his hands and tearing my hoodie over my head until I’m left with just my bra. Plain, black, cotton. Nothing sexy here, and yet, he drops the hoodie and tastes my chest. “Rose, say yes.”
“Yes.”
“Now say no.” He buries his lips in the hollow of my throat, nipping. Tasting. Soothing with a stroke of his tongue. “Say the word. Say no.”
“No.”
“Good.” Breathless, he pulls back and searches my eyes with a wild desperation burning in his. “Yes. And no. You know those words. So now I’m gonna feast, and I’m not gonna stop till I’m done. Or until you say no.”
My stomach whirls with nervous energy. My heart stampedes against my diaphragm. Goddddd, my entire being buzzes with electric energy.
“Do you understand, Rose?” He pulls my bottom lip between his teeth and suckles. Bites. He caresses my thighs and hums the closer his thumbs come to my core. “Say no, and it’ll all stop. No humiliation. No rejection. No weirdness tomorrow. But until I hear that word roll off your tongue…”
I gulp.
“Tell me you understand.”
“I understand.” My throat burns dry. My lips, my tongue… my everything. Except my core. “I understand, Ollie.”
“Thank fuck.” He pulls me away from the wall and strides into my room, sliding his hand into my hair and tugging with a violence that winds me.
He kicks the door shut, the slam of wood a cracking boom that does nothing to calm the fire in my veins.
Then he presses my back to the door and tugs my head to the side, latching his teeth and tongue onto my neck.
“You taste so fucking good.” He marks me.
Drawing me callously toward an image I’ve already conjured in my mind.
We already did this in my dream. He already had me. Claimed me.
“Listen to you,” he rasps, slipping his fingers into my panties and growling when he finds me wet and wanting. Thrumming with need, and pulsing with desire. “You walked away, even with this slick between your legs?”
“Wanted you to follow me. Forgot you’re a gentleman and wouldn’t dare.”
“Was a gentleman. Out there.” He slams a single digit into my pussy and clamps his lips over mine, trapping my cry of pleasure.
Of pain. Then he adds a second finger and stretches me until the delicious combination—desire and agony—spears through my veins and sends me wild with the electricity turning my blood to fire.
“Always a gentleman out there. But in here?” He pumps his hand, curling his fingers just right and drawing me toward an eruption that makes my thighs tremble.
“Fuck, Rose.” He sets me back on my feet, pinning me to the wall and fisting my jaw with his free hand.
He gives me no room to move. No room to breathe.
No room to escape. And when he looks into my eyes, his perfect blue stare, he makes it so drowning seems like the way I want to go. “I can’t be a gentleman in here.”
I bow into his body, breathless and panting.
I use him to stay upright, knowing that if he takes a step back and forces me to stand on my own, I won’t remain vertical.
But I slide my hand under his shirt and feel, for the first time, how powerful and muscular he truly is.
The lines and ridges of his abdomen. The dips and planes he works so hard for at the gym.
He massages my clit with his thumb, circling the bundled nerves and drawing me to the edge of the world without a single care for what comes when I fall.
“You’re so fucking beautiful when you’re like this.” He adds a third finger, brutally stretching me wide. A promise of what’s to come. “So fucking beautiful when you’re falling apart.”
“Don’t stop,” I pant, sliding my palms over his chest. Tracing his nipples with my fingertips. Memorizing his shape with nothing more than touch. “God, Ollie. Don’t you dare stop now.”
“I’m only just starting.”
My first orgasm hits like a punch to the stomach.
Hot and raw. Aching and perfect, as shockwaves pulse from my core and out to touch every nerve ending I possess.
My fingers tingle. My knees shake. The headache I’ve nursed since that first day in the hospital grows louder, a reminder of who I am and how I got here.
But I don’t dare focus on those details.
Instead, I ride my wave of pleasure and fill Ollie’s broad hand with my release, his grunt of approval enough to spur on a second wave until the cold, sticky feel of my pants clinging to my legs threatens to send me insane.
The sound of my own release dripping to the floor becomes an aphrodisiac I never knew I’d respond to.
I lean into him, whimpering and shakily tugging his shirt up. I want to see him, too. I want us to be skin-to-skin. Heart to heart.
“Ollie—”
“Sweetest sound I ever heard.” He releases me and shrugs his shirt off, tossing the fabric aside and catching me again when my knees would have me topple to the floor.
Then he drags my pants and panties down, holding my hip and helping me step out of the fabric.
Balling my underwear, he brings them to his face and buries his nose in the moist cotton.
He trails his tongue over the soaked crotch and sends me wild with need.
Then grinning, he crashes his lips to mine, probing my mouth with his tongue and slamming his fingers into my pussy again, drawing me so easily to the edge of my sanity.
“Gonna fucking devour you, Rosaline.” He crushes me against the wall, one hand at my throat, just heavy enough to restrict my breathing.
The other between my legs, wringing me of every last drop I can give.
Then he picks me up effortlessly, swallowing my squeal of delight and wrapping my legs around his hips.
He walks to my bed, unsnapping my bra with an easy flick of his fingers and tossing the simple cotton aside, then he lays me back, but he holds my legs exactly where they are. Wrapped around him.
He’s a god staring down at his disciples. An Adonis whose gaze makes me beautiful. He trails his fingertips over my belly. My hip. The thatch of hair covering my pussy. Then with a wicked grin, he fists my wet panties and stuffs them between my lips.
My eyes flare wide in stunned surprise. Uncertainty. Hesitation.
But he trails his fingers over my throat. Between my breasts. Over my nipple, squeezing and elongating the tip until I fear I might explode.
“Your hands are still free, Rose. You’re not tied up.
Not powerless.” Dangerous, devilish eyes swing up to mine.
“You can remove them anytime you like. You can still say no.” He folds over me and pushes my jaw up, closing my mouth with unquestioning demand.
“But you’re gonna keep them in there otherwise. I know you like tasting yourself.”
I moan, dizzy and desperate for more.
“Nod, Rose.” He drags his thumb over the hollow of my throat. “You like it, don’t you?”
Breathless, I tilt my head. Nodding.
Pleased, he blinks, blinks, blinks in the soft light, his lashes coming down to kiss his cheeks.
Then he slams his pants-covered cock against my core and hums his pleasure.
“Fuck. I don’t know that I can be gentle.
” He slips his thumb into my pussy without warning, vibrating and happy when I scream and writhe.
My stomach tenses and my spine arches. My entire being is primed and dying for fulfillment.
But he takes his time, rotating his thumb and curling it back to attack my most sensitive places.
Reaching into his pants, he nudges the loose fabric down and reveals his cock, the purpling head, and the thick veins spreading all along the shaft.
“You have no clue how many times I’ve thought of this.
” His hips jut forward, impatient for more.
“How many times I’ve looked you in the eye and acted like a gentleman.
But in my mind, I was fucking you until I had no strength left.
When you’d cry in fear, scared and clinging to me for protection, I imagined turning your tears to ecstasy.
Which is so fucking inappropriate.” He circles his cock with his palm, squeezing until the veins in his neck bulge and throb.
Then he slides his hand to the tip, pulling back to the same rhythm as his thumb, and repeats, his lips tugging into a devious grin. “This is almost like the real thing.”
“God,” I pant, grunting past the panties in my mouth. He left my hands free for a reason, but instead of using them to pull the fabric out of my mouth, I reach down and finger my clit, choking on the sharp intake of air my lungs demand. Fuck.
“You like that, huh?” He strokes his cock, quickening his pace, and prying my legs apart, he drops to his knees and buries his tongue inside my pussy.
“Oh God!” I cry out. The words are muffled. He probably can’t even decipher them. But I know what I’m saying. I know what I’m feeling.
He fucks me with a hungry, desperate thrust of his tongue, his hand moving to the same pace so I know he brings himself along for the ride.
Then he shoves my leg back toward my chest, shamelessly opening me wide, and staring down the length of my body, his blue-eyed glare hungrier than a wild animal, he dips his tongue into my ass and groans when I tense and scream.
When I come on an explosive release, drenching us both and drawing him back to drink every last drop I give.
He’s smug. Smirking. Arrogant, while his arm pumps and his cock grows thicker.