41. Lavinia
FORTY-ONE
LAVINIA
I’m not sure I can take any more of this. One orgasm was good, two even better, by the third one, my body was shaking. I’ve lost count how many times I’ve come. I’m overstimulated, delirious, and Roman is relentless.
“One more, baby,” he says from between my legs. “Give me one more.”
Have I mentioned that he hasn’t even fucked me yet? I’m so exhausted from coming I feel like I’ve been in a sex marathon. One orgasm rolls into another as my pussy clenches and pulses. I feel like I can barely catch my breath and come down from the high of one orgasm before coming again.
“Roman, please fuck me,” I beg. My husband’s apparently a hungry man, and he loves to eat. I, on the other hand, want to feel him inside me before I pass out from exhaustion.
“I will. I need the taste of your cum on my tongue,” he says gruffly, his voice sending vibrations through me. He sucks on my clit, and I cry out as I start to come. He’s got me on a hair-trigger and I’m coming with the lightest touch on my clit.
“What have we been doing until now?” I demand, raising up onto my elbows. Roman looks up at me from between my spread thighs, grinning lasciviously.
“Give me one more, and then I’ll fuck you.”
My head falls back onto the bed with a groan. “Cal isn’t this demanding.”
“Cal also can’t make you come fifteen times in a row before its batteries run out,” Roman tells me.
Oh fuck, he’s been counting how many times I’ve come. Why’s that hot? It shouldn’t be hot. This is insanity, and my body can’t take it anymore.
“I’m not sure I can come again,” I tell him.
“Of course, you can,” his voice is gruff and confident. There’s no question that I’ll be coming again because he’s demanding it.
Roman places soft, biting kisses on the inside of my thighs, up to the crease and across my hipbones.
He doesn’t go anywhere near my pussy. His hand comes up to cup one breast, tweaking the nipple until it’s pebbled and tender.
Just like that, my body relaxes under him until I’m squirming and aching, ready to come again.
Seeming to sense it, Roman shifts lower and swirls his tongue over my clit, his hand pressing on my lower stomach. I’m so overstimulated I physically can’t come again.
“Roman, I can’t, please.” I’m thrusting my hips up because I want to come, I just can’t.
My heart is pounding, pulse fluttering between my legs.
Roman plucks my nipples, pinching and twisting, his mouth relentlessly working me over.
When even that doesn’t seem to work, he nips at my clit.
I’m not expecting the sharpness of his teeth and the pulse of pain on such a sensitive body part, and I go overboard.
I cry out, my pussy clenching around nothing as I come and come. I squeeze my eyes shut, letting the sensations flow through my body. Roman’s body is over mine in an instant, softly kissing my lips. I can taste the saltiness of myself on him.
“You’re amazing,” he whispers. I open my eyes to look at him and see the awe in his eyes. “ Ma petite etoile . I never thought my wildest fantasies could be real and here you are. So perfect. So amazing. So mine.”
I glow in his praise.
His hard cock is pressing against my thigh, but he doesn’t move to fuck me like he promised. Instead, he places small kisses on my neck and across my chest. Taking the time to pet each nipple. He kisses down one arm, massaging my hand, then the other.
“I’m going to turn you, baby,” he whispers, kissing my bottom lip.
Slowly, he rolls me over so I’m lying on my front and he raises my hips.
I shift slightly to look at him over my shoulder. “If you don’t fuck me now, I’m kicking you out and locking the door.” How is it that we had sex only four days ago and I’m desperate for him like he’s never been inside me?
Roman chuckles, placing kisses along my spine. I feel the head of his cock pressing against my entrance and in one quick thrust, he’s all the way inside me. I gasp at the stretch, fisting my hands into the bedsheet as my body works to accommodate him.
“Oh fuck,” Roman moans.
I’m shaking and Roman leans down, his chest pressing against my back, head resting on my shoulder.
“Breathe, baby,” Roman whispers. “You’re doing so well. Look how you took my cock in one thrust. Your body is made for mine.”
Nothing compares to being connected with him in this most primal way. There are no barriers between us and I’m suddenly glad he’s behind me so he can’t see the emotions playing across my face.
I shift, urging him to move.
“Roman,” I whine.
“Ready for me to move, Blossom?”
I nod. Roman gathers my hair in one hand, holding it in his fist so he can see my face clearly. Slowly, he eases out of my body and when he’s almost all the way back out, he thrusts inside. I moan loudly.
“Feels so good,” I whimper.
“You're soaking our bed, baby.”
Each thrust shifts my body up our bed . I reach behind me blindly for Roman’s hand, grabbing it in mine. My eyes roll back into my head each time he’s inside me, the fullness something I’ve never experienced before.
“You’re doing so good, ma petite étoile . You have no idea how obsessed I am with you. Night and day, all I think about is you while you reign in my mind. You’re so beautiful, sometimes I can’t believe you’re real and mine.”
The words are soft and rough, reverent like he’s worshipping me. I’m moving my hips back to meet his every thrust. The slow drag and pull of his cock is driving me crazy and I’m making sounds I’ve never made before. I’m mindless with need, urging him to go faster.
Roman moans. “I love how greedy you are for my cock, wife.”
“I’ve been waiting for you to fuck me for hours,” I gasp. “You can’t blame me for being greedy.”
Roman chuckles, biting at my shoulder. “I’ve been waiting to fuck you for two years, Lavinia. There hasn’t been anyone else. I think you can wait a few hours.”
Oh, fuck. Before my brain can catch up to his words, Roman’s rolling his fingers over my clit in perfect, circular motions that have me seeing stars. I come harder than I’ve come in my sexually active life or tonight.
My pussy clenches around him so painfully I trap him inside my body. I might’ve passed out for a minute or completely zoned out in the bliss of the best orgasm of my life. When I come back to myself, Roman’s thrusts have grown erratic.
“I’m going to come inside your perfect little pussy, wifey.
I’m going to mark you as mine and everyone’s going to know you belong to me.
Every whimper, every sound you make, every single inch of this perfect body will be mine.
Fuck, you don’t know what it does to me to call you mine when I wanted it so desperately for so many years. ”
He comes with a deep groan, filling me with the heat of his release. Roman falls forward, his harsh breathing filling my ears. His body covers mine completely, pushing me into the mattress and making it hard to breathe. Although, who needs to breathe. I want to lie right here and never move.
It might be minutes or hours before Roman shifts, turning me over and carrying me into the bathroom and into the shower. He switches on the controls, turning so he’s under the spray of the shower while the water warms up.
We don’t speak as we clean up, though words aren’t needed in this moment.
We speak with our hands, reverently touching each other, memorizing what it feels like to be here together.
Roman runs his hands over my body, taking great care to wash every part.
I do the same, taking my time to clean him, massaging his scalp as I wash his hair.
We step out of the shower as almost new people. He kisses me softly as he dries me off and I can’t stop giggling. I’m delirious with happiness.
“I’m going to change the sheets while you get dressed, okay?”
I nod easily, clutching the towel against my chest. With one last kiss, he walks out of the bathroom, not even bothering with a towel. I lean back a little to admire his perfect ass until he disappears from view.
I finish drying off, pee, and change into a new pair of underwear. There are little red bruises around my neck and chest from where Roman sucked and bit my skin, and I swear there’s a glow about me.
After pulling on a large t-shirt and pyjamas, I do my skincare as I stare at myself in the mirror. It’s either the hundreds of dollars’ worth of skincare finally working, or it’s the mind-blowing sex. My guess is the latter.
I walk out of the bathroom to see that Roman’s changed the sheets and he’s brought in a tray of food. He’s also, sadly, pulled on a pair of pyjama pants. No t-shirt though, so I’m still rewarded with the sight of his bare chest and tattoos.
I’ve been waiting to fuck you for two years, Lavinia. There hasn’t been anyone else.
I get into bed, crossing my legs as Roman hands me a bowl of pasta.
“I need a lot of carbs after that workout,” I say.
He kisses my temple, settling in next to me. For a minute, we eat in silence, our thighs touching under the blanket. Occasionally, Roman reaches out to brush my hair back, or run the back of his fingers along my arm or jaw or cheekbone. Like he’s making sure I’m real.
“Did you mean it?” I ask, when I’m halfway through my bowl. “About waiting for me for two years?”
I glance at him nervously, expecting him to laugh it off and say it was said in the heat of the moment.
Roman looks at me, leaning in until he fills my vision, and I can see his eyes clearly.
“I meant. Every. Single. Word. Two years is nothing. I think about you every day. Every moment. No matter where I am or what I’m doing.
You’re the only thought in my mind. You consume me so thoroughly there’s no room for anything or anyone else. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
I make a sound in the back of my throat, though no words come out.
“I’ve never…” I shake my head. “I’ve never had this before.” The words are almost a guilty whisper.
Roman smirks, kissing my forehead. “Neither have I, baby. We’ll navigate this together.”
I give him a small smile, willing myself not to cry at the thought of being wanted with so much passion and desperation. It’s the kind of thing I read about in books and to have it in real life almost feels like a dream.
There’s a memory perfectly frozen in my mind from when we were sixteen. I keep it locked away in my heart and I always used to pull it out and admire it from every angle when I felt lonely, whether I was in a relationship or not.
It’s Roman and me, in the pool house at my parents’ house two days before Christmas.
I’m in a red dress with a red bow around my hair and Roman is wearing black dress pants and a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up.
Even at sixteen, he was the most beautiful boy I’d ever seen.
He’s lying back on the bed and I’m sitting on the edge because I’m nervous.
I’ve heard all the rumours about his many girlfriends, even back then, and I’ve never even had a boyfriend.
“Do you ever wish you could run away from it all?” He’d asked, eyes heavy lidded as he rested his head back against the headboard. He was drinking from my father’s prized bottle of scotch and for once, I didn’t want to be the good girl so I didn’t tell him he shouldn’t.
“Sometimes,” I’d whispered in the dark.
Roman had reached out, brushing the tips of his fingers against mine. He looked at me from under his lashes, and when he smiled, I felt like my heart was going to stop. I leaned in closer to him.
“Do you want to run away with me?”
He never got the answer because my brother found us at that very moment and mayhem ensued.
But for one perfect second, as I leaned closer to the boy I’d wanted my whole life, the answer had been yes.
In that moment, it didn’t matter that we were sixteen, that I wanted to play hockey, and build a career.
I didn’t think about my family. I wanted to be selfish.
Every time I’m with him I feel selfish, even now. Because I want more of him, all of him, all the time. To hear him admit that he wants me as badly fills me with the kind of joy that is terrifying. I’m standing on the edge of a mountain again, ready to fall.
“Do you want ice cream?” Roman asks, when our bowls are empty.
“Don’t tempt me.”
He gives me a sinful smile. “My mission is always to tempt you. I also have apple pie.”
I can never say no to apple pie and he knows it. “I’ll have one small piece.”
Getting out of bed, we walk to the kitchen together. I wash the bowls while Roman takes out the pie and puts it in the oven to warm. While we wait, I rest my head on his shoulder, looking at where Salem, Buffy, and Sabrina are sitting in a circle.
“What’s going over there?” I ask, nodding towards them.
“The council is in session. No doubt they’re coming up with ways on how to terrorize us.”
I giggle. “What? Stamping on our feet at four in the morning isn’t enough?”
“That’s just the beginning. Get ready to feel like you’re owned by them and live on their every whim.”
Once the pie is warmed, Roman takes the pan out of the oven and cuts me a small slice. We lean over the kitchen island as we eat, talking about all the things the cats can be discussing. It’s easy and it’s fun, and as we get into bed and curl against each other, I know Roman is right.
There’s no turning back now.