Chapter 21 #3
“Fuck, I love my name on your lips like that,” he says as he pulls back, then slams in again.
I moan loudly, my back arching. My clit is swollen and throbbing even though I’ve already come, as the head of his cock hits my G-spot with each thrust. I move closer to the edge, the need twisting and dangling right out of reach.
I slide a hand between my legs to reach the peak but barely get a single graze of my needy clit before a growl rips from his chest, and his hand is around my arm, tugging.
“No, no. You get what I give you, heartbreaker.” Then he reaches for my other hand, as if not wanting to risk it, before pinning both of my wrists together against my lower back with one large, warm hand.
I’m helpless like this. My ass in the air, my chest to the bed, my arms restrained, Rome powering into me from behind.
I’ve never felt more used.
I’ve never felt more turned on, either.
“Fuck, she likes that,” he murmurs to himself. “The way you just tightened around me, I think you like being held down like this, huh, baby?” His hips pull out, then slam back in. “Do you like being used like a dirty slut, baby?”
“Rome!” I shout, my body quaking with need.
“Tell me.”
“Rome,” I whimper as he fucks into me, hard and fast, then slow and deep, never doing either long enough to allow me to come.
“Tell me, Lana.”
“I like it.” I groan.
“Like what?”
“I like it when you use me like a dirty slut. Now fuck me like one.” The deep noise.
That rumbles through him is nearly feral and has me tightening before he even moves.
His fingers dig into my hips, and I moan, unable to do anything but lie there and take it, canting my hips with each thrust to take him further, deeper.
“Fuck, you look so good like this, Lana.”
“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” I chant, “Harder.” He starts pounding in as I asked.
It builds, harder and faster than ever before, tunneling through me, burying deep into my bones.
I almost always need something on my clit to come, even just the barest of swipes, but with my back deeply arched like this, he hits my G-spot every fucking time, and it’s even better.
“Roman,” I whine, hips arching. “Fuck, Roman, I’m gonna—”
“Oh, I know, baby, I can feel it. Fuck, you feel good. Come around me.” His words aren’t as much permission as they are a demand, and that does it.
He has me tumbling over the edge, my mouth dropping open, and my moans of deep, overwhelming pleasure filling the space as stars fill my eyes.
It’s harder and fiercer than any orgasm I’ve ever experienced in my life.
When I finally come back down to earth, his thrusts are less measured, messier, and an aftershock of pleasure runs through me. “Fuck, I’m gonna come, Lana. Where do you want it?” I tighten again.
“I…” I can barely think of the words, completely wrung dry, nothing but desire right now.
And his.
I’m wholly and completely Roman DeLuca’s.
“Do you want it in your tight little cunt, or on your back, painted on you?” he asks. I let out a low moan at his words, my pussy inexplicably tightening once more.
“I don’t…” I start, and an agonized chuckle leaves his lips.
“You like both ideas, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I admit, my legs tightening, trying to get the friction I need to fall once more as his thrusts have turned to shallow movements.
“How about this first time, I come deep in your pretty pink pussy. Next time, I can come all over your tits. Or maybe your face.” I tighten again and mewl, unable to make words come. “Mmm. She likes that. Okay, baby. One last one for me, and I’ll come deep in this pussy.”
“I can’t—” I start, a puddle on the bed, but one of his hands lets go of my wrists, then slides between us to strum at my clit.
“That’s it, baby. Fuck, yeah.”
“Roman,” I whimper.
“Come for me right fucking now, Lana. Come. For. Me.” And even though I’m drained, I do.
I come hard, though not as hard as the last one.
I’m glad for it because it means I’m still aware of my surroundings when Roman slams in deep and fills me, moaning out my name.
I would have hated to have been too lost in my own pleasure to miss that, and I file it away for a lifetime as the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard.
We stay there as we both catch our breath, and eventually he slides out. I hiss at the feeling, at the loss of him, and go to shift. “Stay there,” he murmurs, then presses a kiss to my shoulder, my wrist, my lower back, my ass cheek.
Then his fingers are at my entrance, slowly grazing before they slide in. “You keep all of this inside you, baby,” he says, almost a whisper as his actions register in my mind.
He’s stuffing his cum back inside of me.
Oh. My. Fucking. God.
Why is that hot? It should absolutely not be hot, right? But it is all the same.
It’s even hotter when he comes back a minute later with a warm cloth. Then, he wipes me clean, moves and tucks me into his bed, and pulls me to his side. We lay there, exhausted and wrung out and perfectly content, before he finally speaks.
“Thank you,” he says, voice low.
“You don’t have to thank me for that. In fact, I didn’t do much of the work at all,” I say. He laughs, and I feel it against his chest before his fingers brush my hair back.
“I meant at the arena. Thank you. For being patient. For cheering me on.” I don’t look up at him, somehow knowing he doesn’t want that, and instead snuggle in deeper to his side.
“Anytime, Rome,” I say, and I find, inconveniently, that I mean it.