Chapter 21
TWENTY-ONE
ADDISON
I’m too high on the aftereffects of my last orgasm to be nervous.
In truth, it was never the double penetration that made me nervous—I enjoy anal sex and the thought of being so completely full turns me on.
It’s the idea of having a man other than Roman inside me.
But now, as I lower myself onto his thick shaft and feel the familiar stretch in my sex, it doesn’t even rate on the nerves scale.
All I can think about is taking in every sensation he gives me, whether it’s through him or another man.
“That’s it. Now come here,” he says, pulling me down so that our chests are pressed together.
Rowdy drizzles oil between my ass cheeks, and I love the way it feels as it trails over the sensitive skin and pools around where my body is joined with Roman’s.
Four hands work the oil into the flesh of my rear and then fingers are probing my puckered hole.
I have no idea who’s touching where, and not knowing somehow allows me the freedom to enjoy it even more.
When two fingers breach the tight ring of muscle, I automatically clamp down until I remember to breathe and push out. “Yeah, just like that, baby. Keep doing that so Rowdy can fit his big cock in there.”
Fingers are replaced with the blunt tip of a sheathed cock.
Thanks to the oil and a slow, constant pressure from Rowdy, he slides in easily.
But not without notice. “Holy fucking shit,” I whisper, my eyes widening.
Feeling “full” is the goddamn understatement of the year.
Both of these men are huge by themselves, but put them together with nothing but a paper-thin barrier between them and holy hell, I’ve died and gone to heaven.
“Christ, she’s tight,” Rowdy rasps. “Almost there.”
“Good girl, baby.” Roman smooths the hair away from my face and stares intently into my eyes. “Just a little more. It’s going to feel so good.”
“It already does,” I reply.
Roman kisses me quick and hot then I see him exchange a quick look with Rowdy over my shoulder. And then they start to move.
Holy God, I’ve never felt anything like it.
I hold my hips in place several inches above Roman to allow him to thrust up while Rowdy makes counter-thrusts from behind.
Four hands roam my entire body, squeezing, caressing, pinching, and pulling.
Two mouths devour me with hot tongues and blunt teeth.
Sensory overload is a very real thing, and it’s virtually impossible to tell where one man ends and the other begins.
It doesn’t matter, though, because with Roman in front of me, I am completely lost in him.
My brain knows there’s a man other than my boyfriend pressed against me, trailing kisses over the backs of my shoulders and down my spine.
That a man other than my boyfriend is entering my body, filling my ass, and thrusting inside me.
But my body recognizes everything—every touch, every graze—as coming from Roman.
He’s everywhere all at once, his claim on me so complete, so absolute, that I can feel our souls fusing as one.
I can feel him in every cell of my body, filling the cracks in my armor left by people I’d disappointed because I hadn’t been enough.
Because in this moment, I know I’m finally enough for someone. Maybe even more than enough.
I can see in his eyes that he won’t give me the command to come, won’t demand that I give him this piece of me.
Not this time. He thrusts deeply and coaxes sweetly, building my climax and leading me to the sharp edge of rapture where he leaves me balanced on the precipice… and waits for me to choose to fall.
And so I do.
I’ve been half in love with him for weeks now, doing my best to maintain what’s left of the walls protecting my heart.
But now, as my body flushes with the white-hot chills of the most intense orgasm of my life, I feel the last of those walls crumble and fall, and I tumble head over heels in love with Roman.
He now owns my heart and my newly bared soul.
A riot of contradictory emotions floods my system.
I’m hopeful and scared, anxious and hesitant, an open book and a closed door.
Then, with slow, measured strokes he draws out the last fluttering waves of my orgasm, until I collapse on his chest. Utterly wrung out and blissfully replete, I bask in his whispers of praise, his hand stroking over my hair, and the way he holds me as though I’m something precious.
I’m floating somewhere between awareness and conscious dreaming, cocooned in Roman’s embrace and the wispy fog of multiple orgasms. Distantly, I register the brush of a kiss on my cheek and hear a faintly whispered, “Thank you, darlin’.
” I want to respond, but I want to sleep even more, and just as I give in to the weight of it, I think I hear a murmured, “This one’s special, man. Don’t fuck it up.”
…
I don’t know if I was out for five minutes or five hours, but when I rouse enough for brain function to return, I open my eyes to take stock of things.
The room is silent except for the soft sounds of Roman’s breaths, which I can feel stirring the top of my hair.
I’m afraid to raise my head to see if Austin’s still here, but I don’t sense anyone else in the room, which means I don’t have to deal with any awkward “moments-after” with him.
Not yet, anyway. Relief spreads through me, relaxing the muscles I wasn’t aware I’d tensed.
This brings with it the realization of how sore I am, but they’re the aches of a woman thoroughly, if roughly, loved.
Invisible badges of honor that will remind me of tonight for days to come.
A lazy smile curls my lips. It’s only the two of us, Roman and me. I’m grateful Roman’s not pressuring me to talk right now.
I should probably move off of him, but I’m not in a hurry to lose this skin-to-skin connection, and he doesn’t seem to be, either. So I close my eyes again, lying perfectly still, content in the silence.
And that’s when I realize that Roman hadn’t merely touched my soul tonight…he’d claimed it for himself.