Chapter 21 Lola #2
I go a little dizzy when he pulls away, my heart a hundred butterflies.
Roman rakes the loose strands of hair back from my face. “You say stop and I stop, got it?”
I nod, not trusting my voice right now but Roman shakes his head. “Nuh uh, Firebird, I need your words.”
I wet my lips. “Okay, yes.”
He lifts a brow. “Yes, Roman.”
I can’t help the smile that curves my lips, the wild part of me burning away the nerves and making me want to play with fire. “Yes, Roman,” I say sweetly.
Sultry eyes narrow on me, but I see the smile he’s holding back. He juts up his chin. “We’ll work on that.”
The subtle threat in his words has my pulse jumping and I curl my hands around the rung I’m now tied to with my own damn vest.
Roman stands up, trailing a finger down my spine as he walks behind me.
I breathe through the shudder that racks my body head to toe.
His tortuous touch comes to a stop at the edge of my panties. I wait for him to hook the lacy material under his fingers and drag it down my legs but instead of the cool breeze of air I expect, a sharp smack stings my ass.
I suck in a breath and twist my neck to glare at him.
He tsks. “That was for standing on tiptoes on a fucking paint can at the top of a ladder.” He rubs his palm over my smarting cheek, the rough callouses of a hand well worked scratching vibrations against my skin. “The next one’s for calling Jarred instead of me.”
Before I have time to defend myself, he spanks me again. The smack judders through me, pleasure and pain shooting straight to my clit. Any protests fall away, and I let my head hang forward.
“You done?” I pant.
“Not quite.” His open palm hits my ass one more time, harder than before, and I rock forward, my fingers clenching around the metal rung.
“That,” Roman says, gripping my sore ass, “was for making me wait six damn years before making you mine.”
I don’t bother pointing out he was the one to reject me six years ago. I’m too busy listening to the sound of his zipper followed by a wrapper tearing.
Roman pushes my panties aside. “Are you wet for me, Lola?”
I don’t have to answer. My body gives me away as he runs his knuckle through my soaked folds. He pushes two fingers inside and my breath hitches. “Roman, please.”
“Shh, I need to get you ready to take me.”
I hang my head and push myself back onto his fingers. “I’ve been ready for you for six years, Roman.”
He stills. The hand on my hip flexes and I can almost hear his restraint cracking. “Famous last words, Firebird.”
He drags his fingers out of me.
I brace myself but nothing could have prepared me for the barely restrained force with which Roman thrusts inside of me. The ladder scrapes against the floor and Roman grabs my hips to hold me steady.
“Oh my god,” I breathe, my pussy spasming around his rock-hard cock. I shift on my feet, trying to adjust to his size as he stretches me open.
Roman pinches my hip. “If you don’t stop moving like that, sweetheart, this is going to be over embarrassingly fast.”
I smirk. “Not got any stamina?” I ask, because clearly, I’m a masochist.
Roman chuckles, the sound making me clench around him. He pulls out agonizingly slowly, till only his tip is still inside, then he slams back in.
I’ve been fucked before, but I’ve never been fucked like this. My teenage fantasies about Roman don’t even come close. He drives into me like he’s been waiting to touch me this way for years and I still can’t get my head around the fact that he has been waiting. That he wants me.
His hand curls around my ponytail and he pulls my head back. The move makes my back arch and his cock plunges deeper until he hits a spot that has me gasping. Waves of pleasure cascade over me. “Roman, please, I need– I need–”
“You need me, Firebird. Only me. And I’m right. Fucking. Here.” He punctuates the last three words with the thrust of his hips.
And he is right here. Not in my dream, not halfway across the world. Roman is here. With me. He’s closer than he’s ever been before. I am surrounded by him and I fucking love it.
The soft cotton of my vest tight around my wrists. The tug of my hair in his hand. The tightening of my core as he buries himself deep, molding me to the shape of him.
I was made to be fucked by Roman. He proves just that by switching which hand holds my ponytail and finding my clit with his fingertips. He circles the hard nub, playing my body like it’s his to master.
“You’re going to come for me, Firebird.” His fingers move faster. He thrusts harder. “You’re going to be a good fucking girl and soak my cock. Mark me like I’m going to mark you.”
Before I can process what that means he leans over me and sinks his teeth into my shoulder.
I cry out as his fingers pinch my clit and the need coiled inside of me bursts. Water crashing against rocks.
“Roman!”
“Fuck.” He pumps his hips one last time then stills, his breath heavy against my neck.
Aftershocks flutter through me and my pussy pulses around his throbbing length. I shudder as he soothes the sting of the bite with his tongue.
“Fuck that looks good on you.”
I let out a shattered, happy laugh. “Caveman.”
He kisses my neck. “Brat.”
I moan as he pulls out, my pussy well and truly fucked. Roman runs his hands up my arms and reaches over to untie my wrists. He turns my head towards him and presses his lips to mine. “I’ll be back in a sec.”
I stretch out like a cat and reach for one of the T-shirts in a pile on the floor, too sated to bother getting dressed fully. It’s a dark blue one I got from Tokyo and the hem falls down to my upper thighs. I undo my hair, threading my fingers through the chestnut locks and purple streaks.
My mind gradually starts to come back online only to scatter when Roman comes back downstairs with no shirt on.
He rounds the counter, his jeans still undone, and I get a little stupefied by the hard planes of his stomach and thin trail of brown hair disappearing beneath his boxers.
“You keep looking at me like that, you’re going to find yourself laid out on this counter with your shirt pushed up and my face between your thighs.”
My eyes flare and my jaw drops. I’m back to not quite believing this is Roman talking to me like that, looking at me like that. His gaze turns hooded as he saunters towards me.
“I— sorry?” I squeak, suddenly feeling all kinds of awkward that the boy who gave me his sweater to tie around my waist when my period started, has just seen me naked.
Holy shit balls, I just fucked my brother’s best friend.
Before the panic can fully set in, Roman threads his fingers through my hair, cradling the back of my head as he kisses me. Soft and slow. His tongue teases my lips and I open for him, sighing into the feeling of existing in the exact same time and place as Roman.
Stars dance in my vision when he pulls back.
“Okay, tell me where you want the shirts.”
“What?” I blink and shake my head. “Oh, no, you don’t have to do that. I’ve got it.”
Roman snags my hand and runs his thumb over my knuckles. “Despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary, I didn’t come here to fuck you. I came because you called for help.”
I tilt my head to the side. “Technically, I called Jarred.”
I collide into Roman as he tugs me towards him and gives my ass a sharp tap. “Well you’ve got me, and trust me, it’s in your best interest to let me help because if you try to balance on top of that fucking ladder once more, you’re going to find yourself tied to it again.”
A smile flirts at my lips. “You know your threats could do with some work because so far they’re all way too tempting.”
Roman tries to glower at me but amusement lights his eyes.
I decide to behave for a bit and, with his help, it takes us less than an hour to get the rest of the T-shirts up and the wall finished.
An array of colors hangs in front of me, the shirts overlapping and placed at slight angles so none of it looks too ordered. There are twenty-eight in total, one for every country I visited.
I step back and admire the display. I first came up with this idea lying on my bed in a crappy hostel in Turkey and it hits me again that this is real.
An idea that existed only in my head is right in front of me.
For the first time since Henry’s fiancée went into labor, I feel like I can do this again.
“Thank you for your help,” I say, turning to Roman.
He arches a brow. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” His gaze dips to the T-shirt I’m wearing. The one I put on after he fucked me so thoroughly.
“I, uh, figured I’d leave this one out.”
Roman shakes his head. “I don’t think so. I want it on the wall. That way, every time you see it, you’ll think of me and how hard I fucked you in it.”
I frown. “You didn’t fuck me in this shirt.”
He sets down the stapler and steps towards me. “No, but I’m about to.”
I laugh as he scoops me up in his arms and carries me to the counter. I’m quickly learning Roman is a man of his word as he slides the T-shirt up and buries his face between my thighs.
“So fucking wet for me.” He flattens his tongue and licks the length of my pussy before flicking toe-curling strokes around my clit.
“Roman. Fuck that feels good.” I grip his short hair as my hips lift off the counter and I gasp in pleasure.
“That’s it, babygirl, come for me. Let me taste how fucking sweet you are.” His words vibrate against my clit and send me over the edge. By the time I’ve come down from the high Roman’s got out another condom and positioned the wide head of his cock at my entrance.
His hand fists around the oversized T-shirt on my chest and he pulls on the material, lifting my upper body up off the counter.
“Give me your eyes, Firebird.” He waits till my gaze collides with his then slowly starts to sink inside of me. “You feel that? You feel me filling you up?”
“Yes,” I pant. “God, Roman.”
The pad of his thumb finds my clit and he rolls it in steady circles until my nails are scraping his shoulders, trying to find purchase against the desire rolling through me.
He pumps in and out of me with long, torturous strokes and I’m so close to climaxing again when his thumb on my clit stills.
“Don’t stop,” I breathe.
Roman tuts. “I need you focused right now, Firebird.”
The sound that escapes me is pitiful but Roman holds his ground, his eyes locked on me until he’s got my full attention, and then he says, “The next time you need help, you call me. Not Jarred, not any other fucker. Me. Got it?”
Fuck. That should not be as hot as it is. My pussy squeezes around him and the lines of Roman’s jaw tighten.
“Lola,” he warns.
What he said earlier comes back to me and I realize what he wants. “Yes, Roman,” I breathe out, not a hint of sarcasm in sight.
Roman groans. “Fuck. That’s my good girl.”
I’ve never been good before and those two words do something to my body. When he starts moving again, he presses his thumb down on my clit and I come so hard my legs shake.
He fucks me through my orgasm, aftershocks making me clench around him until he thrusts deep and pulses inside of me.
Sparkles rain over my body as I lie back on the counter. I moan as Roman pulls out, my inner walls tender and bruised in the best way.
I’m still in a daze as Roman shifts my hips to the edge then pulls me to sitting so he can lift the shirt up and over my neck.
“What are you doing?” I murmur.
“Shh.” Roman’s eyes drop to my glistening cunt.
I gasp as he drags the soft material through my slit, using it to soak up my juices before taking it to the wall.
“Roman, you can’t.”
“Can’t I?” He spreads the T-shirt out and holds it up against the wall. He was wearing a condom so there’s not much more than a slight damp patch on the navy material, but my cheeks still burn hot as he staples the shirt to the wall, right in the center.
No one else will ever know. But I will. He will. It’s scandalous and messed up and really fucking hot.
Roman really is going full caveman on me and it hits me then that this might be as serious for him as it is for me.
And at some point, we’re going to have to tell my brother.