Chapter 35 Juliette #2
“I want you to know what you do to me.” He barely pushes the toy inside and I arch off the bed with a halfway broken cry. “That hat trick goal? I knew I was going to score before I even took the shot.”
“How?”
“Because you were watching. Because I needed to see your face when it happened.” He works the toy deeper, “You know what you did? Right after?”
I remember sitting down hard, pressing my hands to my temples like I had a headache. “I had a minor breakdown.”
“You mouthed ‘you’re insane.’”
“You are insane.”
“About you.” He changes the setting again and I cry out louder this time, hips lifting off the bed. “Look how wet you’re getting the vibrator,” he says. “See that? You’re dripping down it.”
I whimper and try to close my legs but he holds them open with his free hand.
“No hiding. I want to see everything.” He circles the toy against me. “You know what you looked like after goal three? When you sat down hard in the stands?”
“Mortified?”
“Turned on. You were squirming in your seat. Pressing your thighs together.” The vibration intensifies. “Were you already getting wet then? In the arena? Thinking about what three meant?”
“Yes,” I gasp out.
“Fuck, that’s hot. My perfect girlfriend getting wet in public.” He slides the toy lower, teases my entrance. “Bet you were counting down the minutes until the game ended.”
“Math. I was doing math,” I admit. “Trying to figure out if… Jesus… three was even physically possible.”
He laughs, dark and pleased. “And?”
“Mmm not sure.”
“Let’s find out.” He pushes the toy inside, just barely, and the vibration there makes me arch completely off the bed. “That’s it. God, you should see your pussy. All pink and swollen and taking this so well.”
My hand shoots out blindly, needing something to anchor me, and I grab onto him without thinking. My fingers wrap tight and his whole body jerks forward.
“Easy, Ice Queen.” He’s half-laughing, but his hips buck into my fist. “Try not to rip it off, I need that to work for numbers four and five.”
“I can’t—it’s too much—”
“You can. You’re almost there. Come on, baby. Give me number three. Show me what you were thinking about in that arena.”
When it hits, it’s so intense I actually sob his name, grabbing his wrist not to stop him but to hold him there, right there, as waves of pleasure crash through me.
He works me through every aftershock, then turns off the toy and tosses it aside, immediately gathering me against him while I shake.
“Three,” he says against my temple. “Over halfway there. You’re so fucking good at this JuJu.”
“I can’t do two more.”
“Yes you can.” He kisses my forehead, my nose, my lips. “You’re stronger than you think.”
“I think I’m having an out-of-body experience.”
“That’s probably normal.”
“How is that possibly normal?”
“I don’t know, but it sounds right.” He’s trying not to laugh. “Water?”
“Please. And a medical professional.”
His hand runs down my hip, and I notice he’s still completely hard against my thigh. “Besides, number four is going to be intense.”
My stomach flips. “More intense than a vibrator?”
“Different intense.” He kisses my shoulder. “When you’re ready.”
It takes me twenty minutes to feel human again. Twenty minutes of him playing with my hair, telling me about the locker room after the game, Luca’s theory that Romeo was possessed by the ghost of Wayne Gretzky.
“Gretzky’s not dead,” I point out.
“That’s what made it weird.”
“Your teammates are idiots.”
“My teammates think I promised you a yacht.”
“For five goals?”
“Apparently five goals is yacht-level achievement.”
“I don’t even like boats. I get seasick.”
“I know. That’s why I promised you orgasms instead.”
“How thoughtful.”
“I’m a giver.” His hand trails lower. “Speaking of which.”
“Already?”
“You’ve been doing that thing with your hips for the last five minutes.”
I still immediately. “What thing?”
“That little restless shift. You don’t even know you’re doing it. Up on your knees.” He rolls me onto my stomach then goes quiet. “Fuck, JuJu. You have no idea what this does to me.”
“Tell me.”
“Seeing you like this? Completely open for me? Makes me want to keep you in bed for a week.” His fingers slide through my wetness. “Makes me want to see how many times I can make you come before you beg me to stop.”
“I’m not begging yet.”
“No. But you will.” One finger pushes inside me and I gasp into the pillow. “This one’s for that fourth goal. The power play redirect.”
I remember. Remember the panic mixed with arousal when I realized he was going for four.
“I was imagining you exactly like this. On your knees. Letting me do whatever I want to you.” He adds a second finger and I moan. “Think you can handle that?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Because I’m going to make this one last.”
He works me slowly with his fingers. Building the pressure. Getting me close then backing off. Over and over until I’m trembling and desperate.
“Romeo, please—”
“Breathe. Deep breath in.”
I obey.
“Hold it... now let it out slowly.”
The controlled breathing somehow makes everything more intense.
“That’s it. Take it.” His other hand slides up my back, over my shoulder, up to my throat. “You trust me?”
“Yes.”
I feel him position himself at my entrance. Then he’s pushing in slowly and the angle is so deep like this, so intense, and his hand is on my throat and I can’t see him and it’s overwhelming.
He starts moving. Slow at first, then deeper, harder.
“This is what I wanted.” His hand on my throat tightens slightly, so it’s barely gentle pressure. “Having you completely at my mercy.”
I can’t speak. Can only feel.
His other hand slides around and finds my clit. Starts working me in time with his thrusts.
“You’re mine, aren’t you?” His voice is rough. “Say it.”
“I’m yours.”
“Damn right.” He leans down, his chest against my back, mouth at my ear. “And I’m going to have all of you eventually. Every way possible. Every. Single. Part.”
Oh. That. My whole body tenses.
“Tonight?” Between his hand on my throat and what he just admitted my voice comes out barely above a squeak.
“No, baby,” he says quickly, pressing a kiss to my shoulder. “Tonight’s about the five goals. But later. When we’re home. When we have time to do it right. I want everything with you. Every first. Every way I can have you.”
The possessiveness in his voice makes me clench around him and he groans.
“Is that—would that be a first?” he asks carefully.
“Yes.”
“Fuck.” His grip tightens, he’s slowed down a bit, processing this bit of information. “You’d let me be your first?”
“Only you,” I manage.
“Jesus Christ, Juliette.” He sounds wrecked. “You can’t say things like that when I’m trying not to come.”
“Then come. Please, I want to feel it.”
“Not yet. You first. Always you first.” His fingers work faster. “Come on, JuJu. One more. Give me one more and I’ll give you everything.”
His hand finds my clit again and he doesn’t tease this time. Just works me steadily while thrusting hard and deep.
“Come for me. Right now.”
The orgasm rips through me. Harder than the others. I sob into the pillow and feel him follow immediately after.
Then he carefully pulls out and helps me roll over.
“You okay?”
I nod because I can’t quite form words yet.
He gets water. Helps me drink. Then lies down and pulls me against him.
“Four,” he says quietly.
Four. One more left.
“I don’t know if I can—”
“You can. But we’ll take a real break first. However long you need.”
We lie there in silence. His fingers run through my hair while my breathing slowly evens out.
“That conversation timing,” I say into the pillow.
“I know. I’m sorry. My brain just—”
“It was sweet. In a filthy way.”
“That’s my specialty.”
I look up at him. “You really want that?”
“Only if you want to give it to me.” He cups my face. “Only if you trust me.”
“I do trust you.”
“Then yeah. I want it. Want every part of you.” He kisses my forehead. “But that’s for another night. Tonight’s about you. About taking care of you. About showing you exactly what five goals means.”
We stay like that for a long time. Just holding each other. Recovering.
Finally he shifts.
“Ready for the last one?”
Yes. No. I don’t know. But I nod anyway.