Chapter 4 Felt Crazy, Might Regret
Ren
Alittle bit down the foot path, after leaving the barn, the three of us run into a man Cash and Harlow seem to know.
He’s tall and, despite being several years older than us, clearly well-built under his suit.
The dark navy fabric compliments the cool undertones of his deep brown skin.
His cheekbones are high and prominent—I bet he’s stunning when he smiles.
His drop fade only accentuates the meticulously cared for waves at the top of his head, just like his closely cropped salt-and-pepper beard adds definition to his strong jawline.
He’s the most handsome man I’ve ever seen. And not because of the glasses of Champagne. I thought the same thing the first time I saw him at June Bug Café. And the time after that and the time after that.
I go every morning for a vanilla iced latte, and every morning, I secretly wish he’ll be there.
I felt so guilty because I had a boyfriend.
Especially for the way my stomach would fill with butterflies every time my wish came true.
He always stood out, no matter how crowded the café was with the morning rush.
His height and broad, strong frame are part of it, sure, but it is more the way he commands himself, his quiet confidence, like there isn’t a single room where he wouldn’t belong.
Harlow waves her hand between the two of us. “Oh, Roman, this is Ren. We just met.”
He glances up at the colorful sign with hand-painted giraffes. “In the giraffe barn?”
“Mm-hmm.” Harlow smiles.
Roman repeats, “In the giraffe barn?”
Cash clicks his tongue with a shrug. “We got lost.”
“Again, in the giraffe barn?”
“That’s what she said, man.” Cash smirks and sweeps up Harlow’s hand. He claps Roman on the back as he walks away with his wife giggling into his shoulder.
“I don’t think they actually got lost,” I whisper without any genuine attempt to be quiet.
“Yeah. I got that.” He nods with a sigh, like he is used to those two pulling stuff like that.
I cock my head to the side. “Hey, do I know you? You look so familiar.”1
He tucks his hands in his suit pockets and lifts his chin ever so slightly. “Do I?” His voice and face are emotionless, but there’s a smirk in his eyes like he knows I’m lying my ass off.
“June Bug!” I say as if it just came to me. “I’ve seen you there.” We’ve stood in line together, a few people apart, and exchanged a few polite smiles in passing, but I’m not surprised he doesn’t recognize me.
“Hmm.” He nods. He’s not giving me much, but he also doesn’t seem eager to get out of this conversation . . . . I can think of several things we could do that don’t involve talking.
The uncharacteristically impulsive thought takes me by surprise. I blame Cash and Harlow for putting the idea in my head, and I blame Lewis for making me feel so off-kilter and reckless.
I feel my cheeks grow hot, as if I said it out loud. What I do end up saying out loud is even more of a shock.
“It’s Roman, right?” He nods with a lifted eyebrow.
“Well, Roman, I threw this event, planned the whole thing, the highlight of my career, yada yada.” I wave my hand as if that is all irrelevant.
“Point is, I’ve been a good employee and good girlfriend, only to learn my position is being eliminated and my boyfriend is married.
“I’ve been everyone’s good girl, done everything right, and this is what I get,” I finish with an out of breath huff, even though I feel like I’m buzzing with energy, only some of which is the Champagne.
Looking like he’s fighting a smile, he nods, amusement in his eyes. “Alright . . .”
It’s not necessarily a question, but I answer anyway. “If this is what being good gets me, I might as well try being bad for once.”
“Is that so?” He tongues his molars and takes a step forward.
Even just a foot closer, his presence feels so big, like he could swallow me whole.
My pulse hammers. He takes another step forward. I nod. “Yeah.” My voice feels shrunken by his closeness. I bite my lip as I meet his dark eyes and reach for his belt.
My fingers are light and hesitant as I hook his waistband.
But the hands he grips my hips with in response are anything but light. And the way he yanks me flush to his hard body is anything but hesitant.
He starts walking me back, and I whisper, “One condition.” He pauses, a slight flick of his chin telling me to continue.
It doesn’t matter how handsome he is or how many times I’ve swooned in a coffee shop.
I’m in no place to start a relationship.
Finding myself snotty and crying in a giraffe barn really soured the whole idea. “No numbers, no strings, just tonight.”
“Done,” he replies quickly. His voice sounds deeper, hungrier.
He continues walking us back until we push through the unlocked barn door. One of his hands wraps around my ass, crushing me against his hips and thick erection. The other snakes to the nape of my neck. His eyes zero in on my lips, and my heart flutters, certain he’s going to kiss me, and then—
I gasp as he knits his fingers in my hair and tugs my head back. The feel of him against my front and his commandeering grip makes my stomach swoop and fill with desire.
When he speaks, his voice is taut, as if it takes all his control to stop what we were about to do. “I have a condition of my own.”
“Anything,” I say breathlessly, and I mean it. I think I would truly do anything to stay in this fever dream.
“You can be bad all you want, as long as you’re a good girl for me.”
I mean to say done or yes, instead I squeak a desperate, “Please.”
“Now that’s a sweet whimper—should I make you beg or . . .” He keeps my head still while slowly lowering his. “Should I hike up your dress—” His hand on my ass rucks up the fabric. “And see how wet being bad makes you?” The last four words are whispered so close to my lips that I feel his breath.
I feel like I should be shaking. I’ve never hooked up in public or with a stranger, especially one who talks like that. But his firm hold is so steadying, I find myself lifting onto my toes to close the distance.
As soon as our lips touch, his fingers in my hair loosen. In fact, his whole body seems to melt with relief. But only for a second. Everything about his next movements are powerful and sure. He groans as if starving.
He propels us backward across the dirt and hay-strewn wood floor, never breaking our kiss. His tongue delves into my mouth, and his palm cradles my face. Once he shrugs his suit jacket off one arm, he switches hands to fully remove it, as if he refuses to let me go.
I don’t know how he does it. I can hardly manage to keep walking at the same time as his heady kisses. I feel like a doll in his hands.
He pulls away and canvases my face with his gaze, shaking his head. “He’s a goddamn idiot,” he scoffs as if personally offended.
I don’t have to process his words because suddenly he lifts me up.
As I’m taken by surprise, my breath catches.
He sets me right back down, and I realize he’s laid his jacket over a bale of hay for me to sit on.
The thoughtful gesture makes something bittersweet twist in my chest as I remember the friction burn on my knees from the leather upholstery in Lewis’s car.
When I mentioned it, suggesting we switch positions, he said, “Oh, but baby, I’m so close. ”
I shove the memory away and wrap my hands around Roman’s neck, pulling him closer. I whimper as he cups my pussy over my dress.
As if he knew my thoughts had wandered elsewhere, he huskily reminds me, “This pussy is mine tonight.” Again, it’s not a question, but I still respond by nodding fervently. “Do you have any idea how stunningly beautiful you are?”
This takes me by surprise, and I mumble some incoherent mix of yes-no-sometimes-I don’t know.
He isn’t pleased with that answer.
“I only have one night, but I’m gonna make sure you know by the end of it.”
I fear I stare at him blankly, stupefied. He’s so . . . poetic. And all I say in return is, “I really want to fuck you.”
He laughs—a beautiful, husky sound—and I finally get to see what a vision he is when he smiles. He typically looks sophisticated and striking, but when he smiles, the apples of his cheeks become even more round and full and his eyes crinkle, and he looks straight up adorable.
“I intend to, sweet girl.” He gives me a playful smirk and takes a step back, working on his belt. “Now spread those thighs.”
I do exactly that, and he steps between them. There’s something deeply satisfying about his short, straight to the point orders.
Then he’s crashing his lips to mine again and pushing my dress up.
Using both hands, I rush to push his pants over his hips and free his cock. With my knees wide, I plant my feet on the bale. He grips his cock and rocks his pelvis forward. I moan needily as his thick head pushes between my lips and—
“Oh my god, condom!” I gasp, yanking myself out of whatever trance I was in. Roman shakes his head and swallows deeply as if doing the same.
He runs his hand over his hair, breathing heavily. “I don’t have one.”
“I’m on birth control but . . .” I feel awful and look away.
“It’s okay,” he says immediately and lifts my chin with his finger and thumb. The pad of his thumb dusts across my bottom lip as the corner of his mouth turns up. He meets my eyes with a confident spark in his. “You’ll just have to be a good girl and come on my fingers then.”
He cradles my jaw and brings our heads together.
His other hand snakes between my legs after tucking himself back into his pants.
“Now, let’s see how wet a good girl gets being bad.
” His lips flutter against mine as he speaks, just as featherlight as his fingers teasing apart my lips.
He hums, satisfied at the slickness waiting for him.
My breath hitches when he grazes my clit. “Oh.”
“God, you’re so fucking sweet, responding to my every touch so beautifully,” he mutters as if to himself, and the praise drips like warm honey through me. He rests his forehead against mine and caresses up and down my slit with two fingers. I moan against his mouth. The sound is like a switch.
He steals my lips with a feverish kiss and his fingers move harder, faster. But he only teases my entrance. I roll my hips, desperate for him to fill me. I whimper with frustration when that makes him pull his fingers back, his touch painfully light.
“Shh, I’ll give you what you need. Relax, I promise I’ll make you feel good.” I can’t help but relax into his command. “If I only have one night, I’m not rushing a second of this.”
He strokes my clit until every pass makes my pussy clench.
I’m teetering on an edge, ready to fall, and it feels so damn good.
My body tingles all the way down to my toes.
My cheeks and chest are flushed with heat.
My breath only comes in moans and gasps.
I can hardly focus on anything else, including kissing him back.
I feel him smile against my lips, then he’s trailing his mouth up my jaw and down my neck. His free hand hooks one of my legs around his waist.
He whispers in my ear, “You really do have the prettiest whimpers.”
My back bows, and I cry out as he finally plunges his fingers inside me. He curls them and my leg shakes. I hook the other one around his waist too, and it feels good to have him to hold on to as he withdraws his curled fingers before sinking them back into my dripping pussy.
“Oh, fuhh . . .” My teeth dig into my bottom lip as he starts to really truly fuck me with his fingers.
I wrap my arms tight around his neck, clinging to him as I mewl into the crook of it.
His scent is rich and masculine, a sophisticated cologne and a hint of sweat.
The next time he strokes that blissful spot inside me, I can’t help but bite into the corded muscles of his neck.
He grunts at the pain, yet it’s still a sound of pleasure.
His two fingers continue thrusting in and out as he adds his thumb to circle my clit. White light bursts behind my eyelids, my toes curl, and my abs clench. A wave builds inside me, a tidal wave. Pressure and desire cresting.
He knits his fingers in the back of my hair again, but this time it’s loose and soft. He gently lifts my forehead off his shoulder and dusts his lips across the shell of my ear, making chills run down my spine along with all the other wonderfully overwhelming sensations.
“I know you’re close. Your pussy is pulsing . . . so . . . needy . . . ,” he purrs.
“Mm-hmm . . .” I whine, feverish.
“You know, it’s a good thing we chose this route.
” His voice is so rough and gravelly, but the way he slowly rolls out his words makes it feel like smooth leather.
“Because your cunt is begging to be filled, and I wouldn’t be able to resist. You’d walk out of here dripping.
And we can’t have the good girl walking around leaking my cum. ”
“Oh god . . .” I mewl. I’m on the verge of shattering.
He chuckles softly at my desperate keen. “You can come for me now, sweet girl.”
My eyes fly open at a scraping sound, and I look up to see the barn door cracking open. My heart leaps into my throat. Roman doesn’t hear it, his back to the door. It’s hard to think straight. I’m about to scramble and push him away when Lewis’s head pops in.
Suddenly, I’m thinking crystal clear.
I hold my hand up behind Roman’s back and flip Lewis the bird, and I hope it’s abundantly clear to him, as Roman makes me come apart with just his fingers, that with him, I faked it every single time.
1. Play “Drip Off”— Austin Giorgio until the end of the next chapter