Roman: A Triple Threat Novel
Page 7
“Sarah.” His word had her glancing back over her shoulder. “But if you are ready, have your knees spread as far wide as they can go. So I can slide my head between your legs and have you right there at my mouth. You’ve eaten and now I would like to feast also. If you decide you can be ready.”
She ran.
She would definitely be ready.
Chapter Nine
Roman told himself he wouldn’t send for her for a week. After the night with the food—which then turned into the night with both the large plug, since he cheated and came upstairs after only twenty seconds, and the oral sex, because he couldn’t resist that either—he’d called her back almost every night for the past two weeks.
All the time they spent together didn’t seem to sate him at all. The more Roman had Sarah the more he wanted her. A month had done nothing but made him want her more.
And then they’d started eating together. Almost every night. She’d been getting worn down before. Not surprising given the active nature of her job and the very active nature of their nighttime activities. Plus driving across town every night.
So he’d begun demanding her appearance earlier, closer to dinner than late evening, so Sarah could get home at a more reasonable hour. In order to facilitate that, Mrs. Rossi had begun—much to the older woman’s delight—to cook for them every evening.
And damned if it hadn’t delighted Roman too. It wasn’t just sex with Sarah that kept him enthralled. She made him laugh with her stories of kids at school and her quirky knowledge of random facts that she tended to quote in the middle of conversations. She made him want to talk, without ever pressing, about his life. Stories from Sicily that he’d been told but then had forgotten. She listened with rapt attention, wanting to know details no one else had ever listened close enough to ask.
She had such an exuberance for life, for things Roman had long since taken for granted.
Like Mrs. Rossi’s food. Sarah attacked it each night with such obvious gusto and appreciation that it was hard for Roman not to appreciate it too. Over the course of their continued conversation, he’d found out that Sarah—and her bastard brother—had spent much of their childhood eating ramen noodles and Hamburger Helper. Evidently the aunt who had raised them hadn’t been particularly present, or sober, so all the responsibility for cooking had fallen to the young Sarah. Since she’d never been given much money for groceries, she’d made the cheapest food she could until she’d been old enough—fifteen—to get a job and provide better food.
So the three course meals had made her almost as excited as Roman got her in the bedroom. Before he’d met Sarah, he would’ve said it was impossible to be jealous of a chocolate cake. But the moan that slipped from her lips had been almost orgasmic, to the point where Roman was jealous.
Then he’d flipped her over on the table and forced her to eat the rest of her piece of cake while he’d taken her from behind, slow and easy. Then her moans had definitely been orgasmic.
Sending her home that night had been hard. It was becoming hard every night. This was supposed to be a business arrangement. A payoff of a debt. She wasn’t his damn girlfriend for Christ’s sake. Even if he had to admit he enjoyed her company more than he had any other woman, both in and out of bed.
He knew he had to get things back on track. Which was why he had been determined to not contact her for a week. Give them both a little time to cool off.
He’d lasted two days before he’d texted her today, giving her instructions to be here, naked under a trench coat and black heels, ready to suck his cock at ten o’clock.
He was pissed that he’d given in, but he could still use this to recover their initial status. Tonight there would be no dinner, no conversation, no useless trivia like telling him that one quarter of the bones in your body are in your feet or that it was illegal to hunt camels in the state of Arizona.
Her schedule and whether she might be tired was irrelevant. Only his pleasure was of concern.
He heard her knock on the door and looked down at his watch, a little disappointed to see she was right on time. The mood he was in, lifting a trench coat to find a naked ass and whipping it would be sweet indeed.
He could do it anyway. He didn’t have to have a reason. He could punish her with his belt at any time for any reason. It didn’t matter if she wouldn’t understand why.
He ignored the part of him that didn’t like that thought. That kept drifting back to her insightful questions about Sicily. The part of him that wanted to take her there.
He opened the door and ignored the sweet smile she gave him. He thrust his hand into the thick brown hair at back of her neck and yanked her forward towards the large sitting area. No one else was in the house, so without a word he pushed her down over the wide arm of the sofa until her toes were barely touching the ground in her high heel pumps.
He flipped up her short trench coat and barely stifled a groan when he found her perfectly naked underneath. Perfect.
She was perfect.
God damn it.
He slid his belt out of the loops.
“Was I late?” she asked, the trepidation he’d known she would feel clear in her voice. She looked at him over her shoulder, her big blue eyes filled with tears.
He steeled himself. “I whip you for whatever reason I want. I don’t have to have a reason. You’re here to pay your brother’s debt. Nothing more. If you don’t want to pay the price, you’re free to leave. I’ll find your brother and he can see to his own debt.”
She turned her face back down to the couch cushions.
“Are you going to stay?”
“Yes.”
He brought the belt down square across her ass. She stiffened but didn’t cry out. He brought it down again three more times in rapid succession. By the third a small sob escaped her.
He didn’t take any pleasure in it, which didn’t make any sense since he’d taken plenty of pleasure in spanking her before both with his hand and the belt.
He reached down and stroked her pussy. Hardly any wetness at all. Sarah wasn’t enjoying this either. He gave her two more strikes, hardly hard enough to cause a sting, then threw the belt down in disgust.
“Get on your knees and suck me off.”
She got up stiffly from the couch and he sat on the arm of the couch she’d just vacated. She dropped to her knees in front of him without looking him in the eye, but he could see the wetness on her cheeks.
“Unbutton your coat, so I can see your tits, but don’t take it off.”
Her nipples were hard, which made his cock even harder. She freed him from his pants and wrapped her mouth around him. With her hand around the base, she twisted and bobbed her head.
He didn’t touch her except his hand in her hair, and his hold tightened as he began to thrust against her face. He pushed all the way back against her throat, kept the tip of his dick there even when she began to gag for a second before she took him into her throat the way he’d taught her to do over the last few weeks. Then he let go of her hair so she could pull back.
He couldn’t stop the groan when she licked all the way from tip to base, her hand reaching up to cup his balls.
“Yes, suck them.”
She had to move a little awkwardly to get to them but her hand kept a steady stroke on his dick as her mouth sucked one thoroughly then the other. When she worked her lips back up to the tip and swirled her tongue around the head, Roman almost lost control.
“Watching your hot little hands and mouth on me is so fucking sexy.” He ground the words out, wrapping his hand into her hair as she took him deeper again.
He wasn’t going to last long.
He hammered into her face, directing her with his hand in her hair. When he reached the very last vestiges of his control, he pulled her back.
“I’m going to come on your tits.”
Surprise flared in her eyes as well as desire. She was turned on.
“Squeeze those gorgeous breasts together.”
Christ, that was gorgeous.
Roman stared at Sarah on her knees, her breasts covered in his cum, as his heart rate slowly returned to normal. He could stare at her for hours like that and not get tired of it.
And that was part of the problem, wasn’t it? He’d failed once again to create any distance between them. He forced himself to look away, casually tucking himself back in his pants.
“You may go now. Don’t wipe my cum off your tits until you get home. Let it dry on you.”
She stood, glaring at him. “You know what? You’re an asshole.”
Chapter Ten
Sarah wasn’t prone to fits of anger, but Roman Rinaldi was pissing her off. Whatever snit he’d been in all night, she was tired of it. First he’d whipped her—hard, at least at first—with no warning and for no reason.
She didn’t even mind the blow job and him coming on her breasts; that had actually been kind of sexy. So was demanding she let it dry on her body. But this cold dismissal and anger for no reason after the last two weeks they’d spent together getting to know each other a little bit? That hurt. And pissed her off.
She was tying her trench coat, able to feel the stickiness dripping down to her stomach when he spoke again.
“An asshole?”
She didn’t respond, keeping her face turned from him. He didn’t deserve or care to know that he had hurt her with his callous disregard. Maybe he was finally growing tired of her and this was the first stage.
He grabbed her upper arm. “Do you think I’m going to let that go unpunished, Sarah?”
“I think you’ve gotten what your fuck toy was called in for and now you want me to go. That’s what I’m doing.”
“It might’ve been what I wanted, but now I want to teach you a lesson about how you talk to me, no matter how pissed off you are.”
“Shall I get you your belt and lay back over the couch? Perhaps you’d like me to kiss it first? Maybe I could take a marker and write giant X’s all over my ass so you could have target practice.” Sarah knew she was pushing it but didn’t seem capable of stopping.
Roman cupped her chin and raised her head so she was forced to meet his eyes. “Tempting. And believe me, since you’ve suggested it, we’ll be sure to do it soon. But right now I want you to untie your coat, sit down in that chair and spread your legs, one thigh on each arm.”
He pointed to one of wingback chairs across from the sofa. Putting a leg over each of those arms would spread her wide. She felt herself getting wet.
As far as punishments went, it didn’t seem bad. She shrugged then did what he said.
“Touch yourself. Because I’m not going to touch you tonight. I’m going to watch.”
Definitely not a punishment. Normally she might be shy about masturbating in front of him, but tonight she was just angry enough not to care that he was watching. After getting all worked up by him, she wanted to come, deserved it. She stroked herself, her gaze remaining on him, standing right in front of her, arms crossed, while his was fastened securely between her legs. Her vision grew blurrier as she became more excited, aware of her juices flowing onto the white upholstery as she fingered herself under his gaze.
She didn’t waste time, didn’t put on a show and soon she was close. She noticed his gaze moved from her pussy to her face, but then she didn’t care. She twirled her fingers around her clit, knowing one more hard press would cause her to detonate.
And suddenly found her hands forced away from her sex by Roman and pressed into her knees still draped over the arms of the chair.
“I wasn’t clear.” His voice was rough. “I’m going to watch you touch yourself, but you’re not going to come.”
With her legs spread so wide and not able to use her hands, Sarah felt her potential orgasm begin to slip away and she understood the nature of her punishment. He held her like that until it was well and truly gone.
Then he released her hands. “Again.”
Over and over he forced her to bring herself to the edge of climax before snatching it away. She tried to trick him, to pretend she wasn’t close but he knew her body too well. And when she became so desperate that she wasn’t truly touching herself, he used his own fingers over hers, to continue the torture. But he was careful not to touch her himself.
This whole night he’d been careful not to touch her, not to say or do anything to her except in cold anger.
After thirty minutes of being forced to edge herself she was sobbing. Her clit was so swollen and sensitized she couldn’t bear the slightest touch any more. Her labia the same. Her nipples burned from where he’d forced her to pinch them over and over.
He held her hands on her knees again, his face right in front of hers. “Are you ready to apologize for calling me names?”
She didn’t even hesitate. “Yes, Sir. I’m so sorry for calling you an asshole.”
“Normally I would finish a good edging session with an orgasm that had you seeing stars.” He stared at her for a long moment, almost like he was undecided about something. Then the same coldness that had permeated his features all evening fell back into place.
“But bad girls don’t get orgasms. And you are not to touch yourself until… I contact you again. Which will be a long while, if I decide I even want you again. You can go.”
He straightened, releasing her arms, and walked out of the room without a backwards glance.
She sat and tried to catch her breath for a long time before finally pulling herself from her sprawled position. She got up, refastening the trench coat. Her breasts and chest were still sticky, her sex so swollen it was painful to walk.
She somehow kept it together as she made it to her car and out the gated entrance. But she didn’t get very much further before she felt the tears begin to overwhelm her. She pulled over at the side of the road and began to sob. Part of it was her overwrought body from the punishment. But more of it was mental and emotional. Over the last couple of weeks she’d come to expect something different from Roman. Not necessarily gentle—she still often couldn’t sit or walk comfortably after their time together—but just the camaraderie they’d shared.
Tonight he’d been so distant. He’d done much harder things to her body, used her and marked her in ways she’d never dreamed she’d enjoy, but he’d never been cold.
His interest was already fading. That idea should fill her with hope, not make her feel achy and hollow. Despite his orgasm, there been no trace of the desire he normally had for her.
On other nights he’d whipped her with his belt, spread her naked for his men to see, and had fucked her in every possible way, making her beg for it. But until today she’d never felt cheap. Until today, she’d never truly considered what this deal made her, would continue to make her, until he decided he was done with her.
A whore.
She woke in the dead of night from a sound sleep, a scream on her lips and her heart racing. Someone was in the room. She couldn’t see anything but knew it.
She reached for her phone on her bedside table to call 911, but a hand stopped her.
“It’s me, Sarah.”
She frowned at the sound of Roman’s voice, but her body relaxed. The bed shifted as he sat. She could barely make out his features.
“Wh-what are you doing?” Her voice sounded raspy and hoarse, product of the tears that had overwhelmed her again once she got home and laid in bed.
“Being complicit in my own demise.”
Before she could ask what his muttered words meant, he had peeled her sleep shirt over her head and thrown the covers off the bed. He settled on her then, also naked, his weight pressing her into the mattress.
She cried out, her breasts and pussy still so tender that the weight was painful.
He eased himself over to the side, but kept his thigh between her legs
. He was studying her breasts. “Did you touch yourself? Bring yourself to orgasm?”
“No.”
She could see his gaze fly up to hers. “Why not? After what I did to you, I would’ve thought you wouldn’t even have made it to your car before you got yourself off.”
“You told me not to.” Tears welled in her eyes again. She was ashamed for the first time. Even after the cold way he’d treated her she hadn’t been able to bring herself to disobey him. How pathetic could she possibly be?
His lips began to kiss across her shoulder, her chest, staying away from her painful nipples. “You’re a good girl. Sweet and beautiful.”
She scoffed out loud. “Yes. The perfect fuck toy. Your men would’ve loved to see tonight’s show.”
She felt him stiffen then his lips began to work their way up her neck. He’d never been this gentle. She began to soften against him. “Why are you here, Roman? You made it pretty clear earlier you had no real interest in me. I thought maybe we were done for good.”
His palms slid over her nipples, pressing firmly, easing their ache. “I wanted to touch you earlier, to taste and kiss you before I fucked every inch of you.”
“Then why were you so cold?”
“I want you too damn much, Sarah.” He moved back on top of her, his lips continuing to slide across her chest, then down, skipping her over-sensitized breasts until he was at her stomach.
“Do you know you’ve been at my house every night for nearly a month?”
“But I thought you wanted me.”
“I did. I do. Too damn much. I’d planned to wait a week to get you over, then caved after just two nights. So I swore to myself tonight would be different. Remind us both that this is what our deal is.”
“That I’m your fuck toy. Your whore.”
He didn’t try to appease her with pretty words. He raised his chest so they could look into each other’s eyes. “You are. And neither of us should forget it.” His hand began to stroke gently, almost mindlessly, on the outside of her thigh.