8. Tate
Tate
My senses flood in an overwhelming rush of stimulation. Every spark of touch from Roman’s fingers is enough to send my body to a place of pure and complete need, and as he pushes past my lips, it overtakes me completely.
His cock is so warm against my lips.
Completely intrusive.
Way too fucking thick for my mouth, and so goddamn heavy and wide that I feel like I could choke before he’s even completely inside.
It fills me from cheek to cheek, and I lap my tongue over the underside, feeling every ridge and vein pulse as I swirl over him.
Seeing him hovering over me in a straddle is enough of a fantasy on its own, and the moonlight shines across his tattooed chest like he’s some fallen, ancient warrior, kneeling on the ground above me.
Roman looks brutal.
Because he is.
He looks powerful, and dangerous, because he is.
His pants are still shoved down low around his thighs, with his fat cock spilling out over the top of them like his most prized possession as he slides it on my tongue. His clean, spiced scent fills my nostrils, and I breathe him in like I’m huffing something.
I can’t rationalize why it feels like he smells like comfort, even while he’s so aggressive with his movements that I can’t catch my breath.
I just like the way his skin smells.
The way he moves, slowly but forcefully, to press inch by inch of his dick closer to my throat.
And I know that he’s never done this with another guy.
I’m deeply afraid of who Roman is. Yet I’m hard as a fucking diamond, lying here and hoping to God I can somehow find a way to take every inch of his cock for the sheer purpose of worshipping his size.
Do you make everyone want you this much, or am I just that fucking insane?
He pins me with his gaze from above, and the look in his eyes is like fire as he watches his length disappear past my lips. His tip hits the back of my throat quickly.
I’m losing breath fast.
I reach up and give him a little shove on his hip, urging him to pull back, and I’m surprised when he actually relents.
I breathe deep, pulling air into my lungs.
Okay.
Fuck.
Think, Tate.
I need a better angle.
A way to take him all the way, and feel the entire length of him inside me.
“Move back,” I tell him. “Let me get on my knees, and I’ll be able to deep throat better.”
“Are you lying to me?” he asks, tilting his head to one side. “Going to try to run from me again?”
“No. I’m going to make you come harder than you ever have in your life, if you let me.”
His eyes widen just for a moment before his expression slips back toward cold control. He wraps his fist around the base of his cock, giving it a lazy squeeze, then reaches down with his other hand to drag his fingertips down the center of my chest.
His fingers roam further, trailing toward the large open sides of my tank top and tucking beneath the cotton.
His touch is slightly rough against my skin. He strokes along my chest, down to my nipple, giving it a hard pinch as he nods.
“Okay,” he tells me.
He pulls his touch away quickly and I exhale at the loss of sensation.
He stays straddled over me, keeping my hips pinned, as he starts sliding his braided leather belt out from its loops.
Sudden heat flashes through my veins.
I watch him pull out the belt.
“Are you going to fucking whip me?”
“Tate.”
“If you do, I will punch you in your fucking face again, but it might also make me come—”
“On your knees.”
In one quick movement, he gets off me and then hauls my body over so that I’m facing the ground.
He can move me like I’m his goddamn toy.
My hands and knees are pressed into the grass again. Every nerve in my body is tingling, wondering what the fuck he’s going to do to me, and I wait patiently there for the rush of pain.
But the whip doesn’t come.
I feel a sudden warm pressure on my ankles as Roman yanks my legs together with his hand.
“The fuck are you doing?” I mutter.
The sensation of cool leather hits the bottom of my legs a moment later.
He’s fucking tying me.
He works fast, tying the belt around my ankles, binding them together. I move my legs, testing the tightness of the bind. It doesn’t budge. It’s just a goddamn braided belt he was wearing, but it may as well be a rope for how tight he was able to get it.
Roman loops around until he’s in front of me, and I look up at him, straightening my back and taking my palms off the ground.
“Now you can kneel for me, and I know you won’t run.”
“Wasn’t going to run. Is this how you do it in the fucking Bratva? Do you tie people up to be executed, Roman—”
He cuts me off by stepping forward and shoving his cock back into my mouth.
His motions are quick and almost desperate.
I can tell he needs to come, and probably has needed to for quite a while. The look in his eyes is gone from the moment he’s past my lips again, and he’d probably use any mouth to get off right now.
Lucky for you, it’s my mouth.
The first time he pushes deep past my throat, I panic.
Deepthroating is already a skill I had to work on perfecting, and doing it for him is another story entirely.
He keeps pushing in, even when I can’t breathe anymore.
My eyelids flutter shut as I feel him claim my throat, but when I look back up at him again, I see a new expression on his face.
You’ve never had this before, either, have you?
I’m not sure anyone’s ever been able to take all of him at once. My throat is searing from the stretch, and I know I’m going to need air sooner rather than later.
Roman’s fingers reach down to push into my hair.
He drags his hand over the side of my head and finally grips my hair in his fist to pull my head back and off of his cock.
I gasp for air.
I cough and lean forward a little, drawing a long breath into my lungs as he stands over me, still controlling my head with his fist in my hair.
“How do you do that?” he asks.
My cock jumps, a rush of pride surging through me. “I know you think I’m useless, Roman, but there are some things I’m very good at.”
His grip loosens a little bit in my hair, but he keeps it there.
“No one can take me that far.”
“Didn’t know if I would be able to, either.”
“But you did.”
His cock is right in front of my face, hanging there so close I can see every vein.
I cannot do this.
I should never be doing this for him… with him, for any reason.
But I fucking need it.
When I lean forward this time to take his cock in my mouth he almost seems surprised. Instead of forcing himself into me, I’m taking him willingly, swirling my tongue around the ridge of his head, then moving lower.
When I take him deep into my throat again, it’s different this time.
More urgent.
He’s not just holding himself inside me and marveling at how far he can go. Instead, he starts to fuck my mouth in earnest, rocking his hips forward, stealing my breath and then giving it back again, over and over.
He’s already so close.
This is why it’s always worth it, no matter the consequence.
And I remember, with a flash of delight, that my arms aren’t restrained at all.
I reach up and drag my palm up the inside of his thigh, then cup his balls and give them a squeeze.
I hold his gaze the whole time. I keep expecting him to look away, to close his eyes, to remember he’s inside a man’s mouth and have some fucked-up shame enter his mind.
But he never looks away.
Not for a moment.
And I swear he can see every single fucking thought I’m thinking just from the way he looks at my eyes.
Just do it.
Come for me, then remember you don’t give a fuck about me again.
Come down my throat—
“Fuck,” he utters under his breath as I feel him let go, his cock pulsing as he comes on my tongue, and a rush hits my veins all at once.
I can’t believe he keeps his eyes on mine as he loses control, exhaling and swearing softly in Russian, his grip tightening again in my hair.
For a moment, all of the carefully constrained tightness in his expression disappears.
His face relaxes, his mouth parting slightly.
And Roman Petrov looks fucking beautiful when he comes.
He’s hot all the time, but when he forgets anyone’s watching, everything about him softens. The true beauty of his face shines through, from his cheekbones to his lips and even the way his jaw curves down toward his neck.
He slides his cock out of my mouth, agonizingly slowly, and even as it’s deflating it’s still obscenely thick and heavy against my tongue.
He looks me up and down, his lashes flicking low, then up to my face again.
He’s about to leave me here like this.
Wouldn’t be surprised if he left me tied to one of the nearby iron fence posts, even. I watch his chest rise and fall as he catches his breath.
He steps up, moving until his foot pushes between my legs, the top of it nudging against my cock.
“I need to see you come,” he tells me.
Every bit of careful control returns to his face.
“What?”
That’s not what this is.
You were just using me to come…
His foot pushes against my straining dick again, and even through the thick fabric of my sweatpants, the sensation is overwhelming.
“Take your cock out, and make yourself come. Now.”
I bring my hands to the waistband of my sweatpants, pulling it lower.
I know I’m going to call his bluff.
The moment he’s looking at another dude’s dick he’s going to change his mind, call it off, and snap back into reality.
“This what you want to see?” I ask him, pulling mine out and gripping it in my fist. “Not quite your monster cock, but it’s still pretty fucking big.”
He keeps his eyes trained on it. “Yes. It is.”
I stroke it a few times, and even that small bit of friction is so much after I’ve been aching for so long. “You going to watch? What do you want me to do?”
“Touch yourself.”
“Cock obsessed much?”
He glares at me. “Quit talking.”
“No. I need you to start talking.”
“Touch yourself. You want to come, don’t you?”
“Desperately,” I whisper.