Chapter 29 #2
She gasps when he starts to rub her nipples. “Here, Jahlani?” He asks, continuing to touch her. He massages and strokes and watches as she unravels beneath him.
“I … had a dream about this,” she confesses. “About you.”
His fingers glide down back to her center, grazing with more pressure, and he pulls back, his lip curving upward.
“Hmm. Tell me what happens.”
“I don’t remember.” She groans, pressing her cheek into his chest, when he slips his hand underneath.
He chuckles. “Liar.”
“In my dream, you talk less.”
He tsks. “Ridiculous. Even like this, you still find a way to insult me. You’re incredible.”
Suddenly, his knuckle slips against her and she gasps.
The back of his hand cups her head, lowering her until she’s flat against the table as his fingers continue to slide through.
His lips meet her neck again and deliver delicate, flowery, thoughtful kisses.
He continues rubbing in slow, dizzying motions that have her pushing her face into the table to stifle the sounds escaping her throat.
How? How does he know?
“You’re a liar, Jahlani. You said you weren’t good at this,” he says as his mouth closes around her nipple and sucks. “But look at you.”
She grips his hair, gasping, drifting off because she can’t help it. It feels good. Really good. Which is also bad. Really bad.
“I’m not even doing anything … it’s all you,” she says through a moan when his teeth graze her chest.
“Not true,” he breathes. “You’re doing so well,” he whispers. “All the sounds … and the way you’re taking my fingers. So good. So perfect.”
And then he’s finally circling her there, and her back’s arching into him as she chases the pressure.
Her moans grow more uncontrollable when he alternates between sliding his fingers into her and drawing circles, and then his mouth is on her.
Licking her bottom lip, he invades her as he inhales her sounds.
His fingers start to move faster, and one hand travels to press her stomach down.
She separates from him as she clenches, her eyes screwing shut at the fluttering sensation.
“Roman—oh my God.”
She slips her hand into his curls, as he sucks on her neck.
Her eyes screwing shut as he slows his fingers to teasing grazes.
His tongue mimics the same pace, and she can’t take it any longer.
Her breath stutters, her fingers claw at his hair as her chest pinches.
She drags his mouth back to hers as warmth floods through her, and the tension in her body snaps.
An intense moan draws from her mouth, and she bites on his bottom lip as her body jolts, twisting through the sharp pulses.
Roman continues his motions until she pushes his hand away.
“Roman,” she says, after her heartbeat comes back to a state of normalcy.
“Hmm.”
“What if it only feels this good because we shouldn’t have it?”
She licks her lips, meeting his eyes. “What if it only feels this way because it’s forbidden? What if it’s just an itch that needs scratching?”
He sighs, brushing a thumb over her swollen lips. “It’s okay. You’ll figure it out eventually.”
She’s about to ask him what he means by that, but he’s hooking his thumbs into his pants and pulling them down.
He drags the remaining fabric from his body, leaving him naked and hard in front of her.
Sitting up, she grips his neck, while the other hand reaches out to stroke him.
He groans, shifting against her once, and then again before he drops his face into her neck, trembling, and cursing.
She lifts upward, letting his erection bump into her clit, and they both groan into each other, repeating the motion until he pulls back abruptly. She blinks up, feeling dazed and desperate.
“Condom,” he breathes out.
“Oh,” she says, exhaling. “I have an implant, and I haven’t—it’s been a while.”
He nods. “Yeah. Me too.”
“Okay,” she says, smiling before reaching up to kiss him, slow and sure. She breathes as he widens her legs and starts to push in. Roman takes his time, pausing to fuse their mouths.
“Shit. I had a dream about this too,” he says through a groan and a chuckle. “I had a dream about fucking you on my kitchen table.”
She bites her lip, her stomach fisting at his words. He starts to rock against her gently and she shuts her eyes.
“Okay?” He breathes against her neck.
So, so okay. So fucking okay.
“Yeah.” She breathes against his chest. Suddenly, his fingers are digging into her hip bone as he presses all the way in, and her eyes fly open to look at him.
His jaw ticks as he pulls back all the way before pushing in again. He’s watching their bodies meet through hooded eyes. He moves his fingers to brush over her clit, and she moans.
“Fuck,” he says, brushing over her again. “Fuck, Jahlani.”
And then he’s kissing her, and it’s greedy and hot, and he’s laying her back against the table again, less in control this time, pushing the cards so that they scatter to the floor. Her arms move to push the clothes off and stay above her when he starts to move faster.
“I thought about you,” he says through grunts. “I thought about you just like this. Legs spread for me on my kitchen table.”
His fingers move back to rubbing her and she arches against him. A familiar heat starting in the base of her feet.
“Fucking look at you,” he groans, moving harder, pressing her further into the table.
“Oh God. I’m going to—”
He keeps a steady pace as he pushes into her. Her moans become choked. Breathless.
And when he pulls her leg out more, changing the angle, twisting his fingers through more of her curls and wetness, praising her more while dropping kisses to her stomach, her neck, her chest, she feels an insatiable fire spread below that she begins to chase as she lifts her hips against his.
Her toes splay then curl when he pushes her hand from her nipple and he sucks, rocking into her.
“Roman.”
Her lips part and she moans as her body breaks in liquefying pulses.
She’s aware that she’s chanting out his name but can’t seem to stop or care as she twists her face into the cool wood of the table as her hips jump and her back arches.
Too soon, he’s pulling away from her and it takes more energy than she thought it would to sit up on her elbows.
He’s breathing heavily, staring down at her with so much it makes her dizzy.
He’s tugging her forward and she happily complies as he pulls her from the table. He drops into the chair from earlier, tapping his thigh. Breathing heavily, she tests the weight with one leg before he’s grabbing the other and pulls her forward to sink down on him.
She doesn’t move, trying to wait for her body to adjust to him again. “Was this part of your dream?” she whispers against his mouth.
Both his hands start to help her shift. “This and so much more,” he says, groaning.
She throws her head forward, pressing their chests together as he moves her faster and harder. She whimpers, her body vibrating as she builds up again. “Roman,” she says, eyes wide in shock.
Jahlani’s stomach caves in as she grinds harder against him.
Her chest burns, short gasps bursting out as he helps her move over him.
Most people don’t know this about her, but Jahlani is an avid reader of romance novels.
She always thought it was so fucking ridiculous when the main couple finally got around to having sex and he would command her to come, and she’d instantly do so.
She figured there was no way the human body worked that way.
You can’t just finish because someone tells you to.
But as the words slip past Roman’s lips, all demanding, and rough, and needy she can’t seem to help the way her body bends into his as she lets go or the desperate moans that echo through the kitchen, or the way her body tingles and pulses and swells as he continues moving in her.
“Fuck.”
His arms band around her back as his head falls into her chest as he pulses inside her. He drags his face against it, his mouth unhurried as his teeth bear down on her flesh through his orgasm. She moans when he reaches her nipple and bites down on the flesh softly.
“Shit,” he groans, panting heavily. “Shit.”
Pulling back, he looks into her eyes before moving to kiss her. They kiss and kiss and kiss, and she’s getting too worked up again. Too soon. Too fast. She knows she should stop, but his pressure is steady, his mouth deliberate, and she wants to hold on to this feeling for as long as possible.
Roman chases her lips, standing to set her against the table, sliding a hand under her ass to guide her against him, and she lets him.
She doesn’t know how much time passes. Maybe a few seconds, maybe minutes, but she can feel herself tightening again.
The combination of them together makes her stupid with want.
Her mouth glides with his as he cups her cheek, fusing them as if his life depends on it.
She pulls back when she feels it happening again. His eyes bore into hers.
Dopey and medicated.
“Again,” he says against her lips. “Again.”
This one is low and pulsing and draining ,and she convulses against him softly, crying out. There’s a low ringing in her ears as she comes to, and he falls against her chest, pressing soft kisses against her.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he says.
“I’m thinking that was the best scratch of my life,” she says through pants.
He laughs into her chest, pulling her up and toward the bathroom. He doesn’t stop touching her. Not as he grabs towels. Not as he starts the shower. Not as he bathes her, then himself. Not as he’s getting dressed. Not even as she’s getting changed herself.
“Now what?” she whispers lazily once he’s pressed her into the cocoon of his chest.
“Now, we sleep. I need you fully rested for what we’re doing later.”
“Which is?” she says through a yawn.
But she drifts off before she hears his response.