32. Bars and Bras
Bars and Bras
Cam
The first time I kissed Romi Dulce, I thought it might kill me.
This time, on the way to my bedroom, her hand in mine, both of us half-naked—I was sure of it.
The hallway was twelve feet long, but we didn't make it five before I had her pinned up against the wall, my mouth on her neck, her breath like heat lightning in my ear.
She sagged back, hands finding my lower back, nails digging just enough to let me know she could hurt if she wanted, but right now she didn't want.
I licked up the line of her throat. She tasted like salt, sweat, and some expensive perfume I couldn't afford, and underneath all that, the same soft skin I'd been thinking about since the night she first let me touch it.
When I tried to steer her forward, Romi stopped, bracing herself in the doorway with both arms and a stubborn arch to her brow. "You rushing me, Wolfe?"
"You sound like you want me to slow down," I countered, but I didn't, and neither did she. She grabbed my jaw and twisted my face to hers—hard, mean, exactly how I'd always wanted it.
There was this myth that when two rival queens met in battle, the world got quieter, like the birds shut up to hear who'd win.
In real life, with her tongue in my mouth and her hips lining up perfectly with mine, the world got louder.
My heart, the air vent, the muffled thump of the neighbor's reggaetón—none of it faded.
It all layered over the wet, desperate kisses, both of us fighting to get more, faster, now.
I took the cue and drove her backward, step by step, not letting our lips disconnect for more than half a breath.
Her back hit the doorframe, and she made a noise, not quite a laugh, not quite a moan—a sound you could only make if you'd been holding it in for years and were now finding out what it felt like to let go.
She let me win the push—just an inch, enough to make it seem like I'd earned it.
Then she spun us, caught my wrists and braced them to the wall above my head.
She leaned in so close her breath painted my lips.
"You want to see who taps first?" she said.
Her smile was slow-dissolving sugar, and I felt it everywhere.
I raised my brow at her. "You sure about that?"
She let my wrists go but didn't move away, and I took the opening. We shuffled, stumbled, hands and mouths always locked, all the way to my bedroom. I heard us bang the wall and thought for a split second about the neighbor, then Romi bit my lip and I saw nothing but her.
Romi sat down on the edge of the mattress and yanked me into her lap, all control and mischief, her hands running up my thighs to where the waistband of my shorts clung.
Our chests mashed together, nipple to nipple, and she locked her lips to mine again until I couldn't remember what it was like to need air and not just her.
I ground my knee between her legs, and she gasped, low and shocked, like I'd told her a secret about herself.
She tried to get my shorts off first, but I beat her to it, wriggling out and shoving them to my ankles. I caught her trying not to look at me, trying to save it for later, but the hunger on her face was too real.
I kneeled up, hands braced on either side of her, and kissed my way down her neck—slow enough to make her squirm, fast enough to keep her from regaining control.
I found the strap of her silk underwear, ran my tongue under it, then rubbed my face in it, sniffing her.
No shame. She writhed hard enough to rattle us both.
Her hand caught the back of my neck, fingers digging in. "Is this how you do it?" she panted, laughing. "You wear women down until they let you win?"
I got her flat on the bed without much effort to remove her underwear.
She let me, but only so she could pull me down on top of her, so our bodies lined up perfectly.
I felt the heat of her, the roll of her hips, and for a second I lost all good sense.
I was still wearing my briefs, but not for long.
The cotton of my briefs was soaked through, clinging everywhere in a way that meant they needed to be off immediately.
Romi hooked her thumbs in and pulled, slow and theatrical, making sure to drag the cotton over every inch of my skin.
Instead of teasing her, I moved lower to press a kiss to Romi's hip and gazed up into her eyes. "Flip over," I whispered, voice gone rough.
She hesitated half a heartbeat, but the want of it was all up in her face "You want—like both of us?"
"Yeah." I gave her a slow, wicked grin and nudged her over, guiding her so we ended up side by side, head to thigh, both of us stretched out on our sides. My face was inches from her pussy, plump and slick, the scent of her making me crazy, because she was gonna let me taste her for real this time.
It wasn't smooth, not at first. She was nervous, the angle making things a little clumsy, but she was eager as hell.
Romi pressed a kiss to my mound, then her mouth found me, lips warm and searching.
A jolt ran through me; fuck, she was actually doing it.
I groaned and let my own mouth fall between her thighs, licking her slow and deep until she throbbed.
The feedback loop was instant. Every time my tongue circled her clit, her hips jerked and her mouth got bolder, tongue flicking over me, lips closing around my clit.
I sucked her harder, and immediately felt her moan against me.
I rolled us over until I was on my back and grabbed her ass with both hands, pulling her down hard onto my mouth.
The second her pussy was pressed against my tongue again, I groaned like I'd been starving for it. I licked deeper, messier, chasing every drop, holding her tight so she couldn't lift off. Couldn't get enough. Wouldn't let her go.
She was a quick study. Tentative at first, then greedy, matching my rhythm, doing to me exactly what I was doing to her.
Every gasp from me made her shudder, and the sounds coming out of her only made me more frantic.
I moaned into her, open-mouthed and hungry, and she echoed it, hips grinding down on my face while her hands spread me open.
We built each other up—faster, rougher, no holding back.
Her thighs trembled around my head but she didn't stop, just licked and sucked and used her mouth like she was as gone for it as I was.
My own orgasm was creeping up fast, impossible to fight with her tongue on me and her little noises vibrating against my clit.
I kept her pinned to my mouth, licking and sucking because I needed her to come all over my tongue more than I needed breath.
When she finally broke, gasping and shaking against my face, she took me right over the edge with her—her coming in my mouth while my climax hit me hard and sudden.
Kept going until she fluttered around my tongue again, hips quaking until she begged me to ease up.
We laid there, breathless, the taste of each other still on our tongues. When she rolled off me, she looked dazed. Hair mussed, eyes wide, lips swollen and wet from kissing me everywhere but my mouth. I caught her grinning, out of it.
I grinned back, still tasting her, and thought: third time's the charm.
Romi half-collapsed onto her back right side up, arm flung over her face. "You're an actual sex demon," she said. "Like, you can't be all sweet and vulnerable with me one moment and make me come like that. Pick one."
I ran my hand up the back of her calf, traced the line of her hamstring, and watched goosebumps break out everywhere I touched.
Her kiss was messy-tongued, greedy to taste herself on my mouth. I caught that sharp, unfamiliar tang—her and me, mixed together—for a second before she pulled away, pressing her forehead to mine, both of us panting. Pulled her back for another kiss, just to get it back. Intoxicating.
"Seriously. You know how to make a bitch forget her own name," she whispered, and I grinned, because I was pretty sure she'd done the same to me.
Romi rolled us over, shifting her weight until she straddled my hips. Then, she ran her palm up the inside of my thigh and curled her hand around the back of my knee and pulled my legs apart, so forceful it made me gasp.
She bent forward and nipped my collarbone, then my nipple, then lower.
I felt her teeth, then tongue, over the peak of my nipple, and the nerves in my chest lit up like Vegas at midnight.
She sucked hard, then let up and flicked with the tip of her tongue, some slow, evil rhythm calculated to get me shaking.
Nipples stiff and begging for her mouth.
My hands went to her hair, tangling in the thick, sweat-loosened locks, and she made a soft, smug sound in her throat that rumbled through me.
She switched sides, taking the other nipple in her mouth, grazing with her teeth before biting, not hard but threatening, a flex of control. She must've felt it, because she let her palm drift lower, to find the exact spot that would make me whine.
I did. Loudly.
She laughed, hot breath ghosting over my chest. "You get real loud when you want something."
Oh, this one was going to be a fucking problem.
I gripped her shoulders, pulled her up, feral to taste us again. Tried to bite her lip, but she dodged, made me chase her, both of us laughing, high on each other and the flavor we'd left behind. Gave her ass a playful smack. Nothing serious, just hard enough to hear her squeal.
She giggled, then shifted her grip, those thief hands of hers moving down my ribs, pausing like she was double-checking what came next.
Her fingers hovered, then slid over my hips.
When she caught the line of my mound, she swept her fingers across, leaving me bare and throbbing again for her.
I turned, mouth open for another kiss, but she pressed me facedown to the bed, voice low and shaky.