Chapter Twenty-Seven
Josie
Rome’s back porch had become my favorite place in the world.
Which was weird because a month ago, my favorite place was probably the couch in my apartment, where I ate cookie dough straight from the carton and pretended I was thriving after my divorce.
Now?
Now it was Rome’s old wooden porch with its creaky boards, mismatched chairs, and the soft glow of string lights he’d hung up because he thought they looked cool.
The night air was cool, carrying the smell of fresh-cut grass and rain somewhere in the distance. Rome had a beer balanced on the arm of his chair and I had my feet tucked beneath me and my shoulder pressed against his.
Rome had finally gotten back from Bruce’s house and immediately texted me. No need for bail. Followed by Yet.
I came over twenty minutes later. “You really showed up at his house with Mack, Cash, and Skid?”
Rome snorted.
“He should have felt lucky I didn’t bring Prez.”
I stared at him. “That’s worse?”
“Depends who you ask.”
“You are insane.”
“I prefer passionate about the things I care about.” Rome shifted in his chair and draped an arm around my shoulders.
I went willingly.
Which if you’d asked me six months ago if I’d be happily cuddling with a tattoo artist seven years younger than me on his back porch while discussing my ex-husband, I would’ve assumed I’d suffered a head injury.
“So.” Rome looked down at me. “What the hell did you see in Bruce?”
I groaned. “Please don’t.”
“I’m serious.”
“Don’t.”
“He wears khakis, Josie.”
I buried my face in his shoulder. “Oh, my God.”
“Khakis,” he enunciated slowly. “I bet he had a calculator in his back pocket.”
“Stop talking about him.”
“The man looks like he gets excited about taxes.”
I laughed so hard I snorted.
“Probably does multiplication while he jacks off in the shower.”
“Stop,” I wheezed, struggling to catch my breath.
His arm tightened around me, and I finally stopped laughing. “Seriously though.”
I groaned again. “I was twenty-one and dumb, Rome.” I looked down at my hands. “He showed interest in me, and I just wanted someone to like me.” I sighed. “Even though I could have broken him in half.”
Rome kissed the top of my head. “Thank fuck.”
I smiled. Then, before I could stop myself, I said, “I did feel like I was going to suffocate him the one time I sat on his face.”
Silence.
My eyes widened, and my hand flew to my mouth.
Oh.
My.
God.
I slowly looked up at Rome.
He was staring at me then his shoulders started shaking. Rome burst out laughing and I covered my face. “I cannot believe I said that.”
“You absolutely did.”
“Forget it.”
“Never.”
I slid lower in my chair. “I’m leaving.”
“No you’re not.”
“I’m moving.”
He laughed harder.
I groaned. “I am so sorry.”
Rome finally caught his breath. “Baby.”
I peeked at him through my fingers.
“You don’t gotta apologize.”
I squinted. “I don’t?”
“No.” His grin turned wicked.
“I’m just glad I get to be the man who doubles as your favorite chair whenever necessary.”
I gasped. “ROME.”
He shrugged. “You started it.”
“I absolutely did not.”
“You brought up sitting on faces.” Rome pulled me into his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world.
I was about to protest again, but then his mouth was on mine and all coherent thought evaporated.
His kiss was hot and demanding, his tongue sliding against mine in a rhythm that made my hips roll instinctively against him.
I felt him hard beneath me, and I moaned into his mouth, my fingers tangling in his hair.
He groaned, the sound vibrating against my lips, and his hands gripped my waist tight enough to bruise. I didn’t care. I wanted the marks. I wanted proof this was real.
“Rome,” I breathed when we broke apart, but he just kissed his way down my throat, his teeth grazing my pulse point. His beard scratched deliciously against my sensitive skin.
“Can’t get enough of you,” he growled against my collarbone, his hands already working my shirt up over my head. I raised my arms, letting him strip it off, and then his mouth was on my breast, sucking hard through my bra, and I cried out, arching into him.
He stood suddenly, lifting me with him like I weighed nothing, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, clinging to him as he walked us toward the sliding door.
“Where are we going?” I asked, breathless, as he carried me inside.
“Bed,” he said, his voice rough. “We’re going to need the bed.”
“But I like it on the deck,” I protested, though my body betrayed me, grinding against him as he walked.
“You’ll like this more.”
He navigated the hallway in the dark, never stumbling. Then we were in his bedroom, the space lit only by moonlight through the window, and he was lowering me to the floor.
I expected him to push me onto the bed, but instead, he lay back, pulling me with him until I was straddling his chest, looking down at him in the dim light.
“Come here,” he commanded, his hands gripping my thighs, guiding me upward.
I realized what he wanted and felt a flush of heat spread through me, equal parts embarrassment and arousal. “Rome-”
“You brought it up,” he reminded me, his smile wicked in the darkness. “Now come sit on my face, Josie. Let me taste you.”
I moved up his body, trembling, until my knees bracketed his head. He looked up at me, his eyes dark and hungry, and then he gripped my hips and pulled me down onto his waiting mouth.
The first touch of his tongue made me cry out, my hands flying to the headboard for support.
He licked into me with slow, deliberate strokes, circling my clit, teasing my entrance.
His beard scratched against my inner thighs, the sensation adding another layer to the overwhelming pleasure building inside me.
“Oh god,” I panted, my hips rocking against his mouth, chasing the rhythm he set. “Rome, please-”
He doubled his efforts, sucking at my clit, his tongue flicking against me in a way that made my vision blur. I was grinding against his face now, shameless and desperate, and he groaned against me, the vibration sending shockwaves through my body.
“That’s it,” he encouraged, his voice muffled but his meaning clear. “Ride me. Take what you need.”
I did, my movements becoming frantic, my moans filling the room. I could feel my orgasm building, coiling tight in my belly, and when he thrust his tongue inside me, I shattered. I cried out his name, and my whole body shook as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through me.
Before I could come down, he was moving, sliding out from beneath me and flipping me onto my stomach. I heard the rustle of the rest of his clothes coming off, and then his hands were on my hips, pulling me up onto my knees. “On your hands,” he commanded, his voice rough with his own need.
I obeyed, pushing up onto my palms, my cheek pressed to the mattress, my body still trembling from my orgasm. He positioned himself behind me, his hands gripping my ass, spreading me open. Then he was pushing inside, thick and hard and filling me completely.
“Fuck,” he groaned, his fingers digging into my hips. “You feel incredible, Josie. So tight. So wet.”
He started to move, slow at first, letting me adjust, but I pushed back against him, needy and impatient. “More,” I begged. “Please, Rome. Fuck me.”
He obliged, his pace turning brutal, his hips slapping against my ass with each thrust. The angle was perfect, hitting something deep inside me that made stars burst behind my eyes, and I could feel another orgasm building already, impossibly soon.
“Touch yourself,” he ordered, his voice strained. “I want to feel you come around me.”
I reached between my legs, my fingers finding my sensitive clit, still swollen from his mouth. I circled it in time with his thrusts, and the dual sensation was overwhelming, too much yet exactly enough.
“Rome,” I gasped, my whole body tensing. “I’m going to-”
“Come,” he growled, his thrusts becoming erratic, desperate. “Come with me, beautiful. Now.”
I did, my second orgasm ripping through me even more intense than the first, my inner muscles clamping down on him as I cried out into the mattress. He followed me over the edge with a roar, burying himself to the hilt and spilling inside me. His hips jerking through his release.
We collapsed together, him rolling to the side and pulling me with him, spooning me against his chest as we both struggled to breathe. His heart hammered against my back, matching the wild rhythm of my own.
“I will always volunteer to be your chair, baby. Fucking always.”