Rome’s hand smoothed down the side of her face, his gaze focused on her. “I think you do and you’re too shy to admit it.”
She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch, letting her body speak for her. Letting it show the aching need inside her.
The lightest brush of a kiss pressed against her mouth, and the sleek metal of his lip ring scraped along her lip.
Elise moaned in response, her mouth parting under his as he began to gently kiss her with soft, sweet presses of his lips against hers. His tongue flicked against her open mouth, and she whimpered again, this time the sound thick with need.
“Sweet Elise,” he murmured, and his hand tangled in her hair, dragging her head back just a little. Then she felt his mouth press harder on her own, and his tongue slicked deep inside.
Then he was kissing her, wet and thorough, like she’d dreamed about, like she’d anticipated ever since she’d seen him pull up on his motorcycle in front of the Peppermint House earlier that day. Like he was devouring her with all the need and urgency that she felt beating a pace through her body. He tasted like beer and she should have been repulsed by it, but she was fascinated, instead. And when his tongue flicked against hers in a playful swipe, she responded with her own.
And this time, Rome groaned, his lips moving against hers as he spoke. “God damn. Kissing you is like falling into madness, isn’t it? It’s like you push away my brain with every little flick of that sweet tongue of yours, until I have nothing left in my head.”
She didn’t want talk, though; she wanted more kissing. More deep, wet, hot kisses that made her forget about everything in the world outside of Rome’s mouth. Her tongue pressed experimentally against his lip, and she felt the metal of his piercing, so she licked at it, instead. She wanted to lick all of him, all over.
He shifted against her, and then she heard the click of a remote, and the TV went silent.
Elise’s eyes opened in surprise. “M-m-movie?” she stammered against his mouth.
“Fuck the movie,” he murmured, his beautiful face inches from her own. “I just put it on to relax you. I wanted to jump you as soon as I got you through this door.”
He did? A gratified surge tore through her, and she reached for him, sliding her hand over his flat belly again. She really liked touching him.
Rome groaned again, and slid down slightly in the bed, and his mouth was kissing hers again, his hands pressing her down so she’d lie in the bed beside him, and she did. She felt him toss the pillow to the floor, the thump of it on the ground barely registering in her consciousness.
And then they were curled on the bed together, mouths locked, and nothing was between them any longer.
It was pure, delicious bliss. His mouth claimed hers, each kiss hungrier than the last. Rome’s kisses were fierce and demanding, until she was gasping for breath and her body felt like liquid hunger. She wanted more, more, more. Her hands curled against his undershirt as they kissed, and she wanted to stroke them all over his body, but didn’t know when—or if—he’d let her.
All she knew was that she never wanted this to end.
His fingers massaged her scalp, stroking and kneading as he kissed her. Then he paused, his forehead pressing to hers. “Can I touch you, Elise?”
She shuddered. “Please,” she whispered. She wanted his touch so badly.
His fingers stroked down her face, her cheek, her jaw. Over and over, he touched her as she closed her eyes and willed herself to calmly breathe in and out, like a normal person would. Then he leaned in and gave her nose a small kiss. “Lie on your back for me.”
She did, her gaze moving over him, his big body next to hers. His eyes were sleepy with desire, that blue turning a darker, smoky color, his lashes thick and gorgeous. She could drown in those eyes.
Rome sat up, and his hand moved from her shoulders down to her waist. He glanced up at her, and then back down, and his hand began to pull at the fabric of her sweater, easing it upward.
Elise tensed, thinking of her crooked hips and the way they didn’t line up quite right. He’d notice it.
He glanced up at her, noticing her stiffness. “You want the light off for now?”
She relaxed a little, nodding. “Please.”
He heaved his body over hers, reaching across to the lamp at the bedside. He clicked it off, and then they were in darkness. She blinked a few times, trying to adjust her eyes to the dimness. The only light that came in peeped in from the blinds, the starlight barely enough to let her make out Rome’s shadow over hers.
Then his hand touched her bare stomach, under her sweater. “Can we take this off?”
She sucked in a breath and nodded, then realized he couldn’t see that. Now she had no choice but to speak. “O-okay.”
“Don’t be afraid, Elise.” His hand stroked her stomach again, the knuckles just barely brushing over her belly button. “I think you’re beautiful.”
Those words, soft and reverent, bolstered her confidence. With a deep breath, she grabbed the edges of her sweater and pulled it over her head, tossing it aside.
His hands immediately began to stroke up and down her rib cage, half exploration, half soothing. “Breathe,” he murmured.
She took in a long, deep breath, and was surprised when his mouth came down on hers again in a tender kiss. She opened her mouth to him, her hands going to his neck and clinging to him as he kissed her and his hand stroked her belly.
Ever so slowly, that stroking hand slid up to rest between her breasts, his knuckles brushing at her breastbone, back and forth, in a teasing, tantalizing motion that seemed more frustrating than exciting. She arched her back and made a sound of frustration.
In response, his hand moved to the side and gently cupped her breast.
All that pent-up excitement and frustration seemed to burst out of her at once. A sob escaped her throat.
“You okay, baby?” His whisper was soft, understanding. “I can stop at any time if you want.”
She shook her head. She didn’t want that. She wanted him to keep touching her. “I’m fine.” And really, she was. It was just . . . utter relief that he’d touch her so intimately and not shy away. She’d longed to be touched for such a very long time, and the reality was almost more than she could bear.
But she’d bear it . . . because she wanted more. So she clung to him and lifted her mouth for another kiss, and this time Elise was the aggressor, her mouth capturing his and her tongue stroking to brush against his. Her nose brushed against the ring piercing his septum, and even that aroused her.
He groaned and his thumb stroked over her nipple, gently teasing the already tight peak.
The breath exploded out of her again and she cried out against his mouth, her hips raising up in an involuntary gesture. She wanted more touch, needed more. She was desperate for it.
But all he did was gently rub that stiff, overstimulated little peak over and over again. “How does it feel, Elise?” he murmured against her mouth.
“G-g-good,” she breathed.
“Just good?”
So, so good. More than good. But her mouth couldn’t form the words. She mewed a protest when he lifted his hand, and tried to drag his mouth back down to hers, but he was shifting his big body.
Then she felt his warm hand cup her other breast, kneading it gently before he began to tease the tip with his fingers once more. She felt his other hand tug at the cup of her bra, pulling it down.
Then she felt his mouth close over her nipple.
She cried out. The sensation felt so overwhelming that she wanted to scream with everything she was feeling. It was too much. It wasn’t enough. She wanted to push his mouth away, she wanted to drag him all over her skin. She wanted him to bite. Her breath came in sharp, rough pants, and his hand and mouth worked on her breasts, teasing both peaks. She could feel his tongue scrape over her nipple, felt him gently suck on the tip and then worry it with his teeth, just a little.
And god, she ached so much. She felt so, so empty inside. H
ow was it that she could feel so full and supercharged, and yet ache with emptiness at the same time?
“You have the sweetest little breasts, Elise. God, these nipples. I could tongue them all night.” His hands pushed her breasts together and he nuzzled in her cleavage, his lips grazing her breastbone. “You’re so sexy. You sure you want some dirtbag like me touching you?”
She wanted all of him. “Please, please touch me, Rome,” she panted. “I need it.”
He groaned, and his thumbs flicked both of her nipples at the same time in a gesture that made her cry out with surprise and pleasure. “Unbutton your pants for me. I want to see if you’re wet.”
She sucked in a breath, but her hands went to her jeans, trembling. He continued to tease and play with her nipples with his hands, driving her wild as she tried to undo her jeans. Her fingers were having a hard time working, her concentration scattered as he continued to touch and tease her breasts.
Then her jeans were undone and she reached for him again, stroking a hand up one of his strong arms. She loved touching him. For a moment she hated that the lights were off; she wished she could see her hand grazing over his beautiful tattoos. “You’re so warm,” she murmured. So warm and delicious.
“And you’re so soft,” he murmured, and his hand left her breasts and skimmed down her belly. Then his fingers were grazing at the edge of her panties—her hideous granny panties—and teasing her skin. “Beautiful, soft Elise. Can I touch you anywhere?”
She thought she’d die if he didn’t. “Please,” she whispered again.
His fingers slipped deeper, moving under her clothing, past the waistband of her panties. She felt them graze the crinkle of her pubic curls, and then brush over her mound, cupping it under her clothing.
And Rome hissed. “Damn, you are so wet. Are you that turned on, Elise?”
She whimpered. Oh god, she was so turned on. “Touch me. Please, keep touching me.”
“Baby, I don’t think I could stop if I wanted to,” he said, and she felt his fingers part her flesh, stroking the slick folds and sliding through them. He groaned. “So fucking wet. I want to just bury my face there and eat the hell out of you.”
She gasped, stiffening at the thought.
“Not tonight,” he promised. “Tonight we’re just playing, all right?” And he leaned in and kissed her again, even as his fingers stroked through her wet folds and brushed over her clit. Elise cried out at the touch. That had been the most intense thing she’d ever felt.
But then he was still touching and exploring her, even as his mouth claimed hers. His fingers slid back and forth in her folds, rubbing her, circling in the slickness. One pushed deep, circling at her core and then sinking in.
She whimpered, her fists tightening on his shirt. That . . . had felt a little twingey with pain.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” he murmured against her mouth. “Relax, baby. I’ve got you. We’re just exploring. Nothing more.”
She nodded against his kisses, his tongue slicking over hers again, and when he thrust into her mouth, his finger mimicked the motion and she moaned. Oh, that had felt decadent. Her hips rose in response, wanting more of that touch.
Then, his thumb brushed through her folds again, and she felt it land on her clit. Her eyes opened wide with shock at the sensation, even as he thrust his finger deep into her once more.
Her nails dug into his shoulders. Oh god. That was . . . Her legs trembled, and she began to stiffen. She wanted him to pull away—no, wait, she wanted him to do that again, but harder—and all the while he continued to kiss and thrust into her mouth with his tongue and stroke his fingers deep inside her, his thumb grazing over her clit as he did. And it was overwhelming.
She’d touched herself to bring her body off before. Lots of times, actually. But this intensity? This intrusive, incredible touch? It was completely different. Her own touch was like a soft, soothing comfort. This was a raging inferno of desire, and she felt as if she were about to be engulfed. A sob tore at her throat again as he continued to stroke her higher, and her hips bucked against his hand, harder and more fiercely.
“That’s it,” he murmured against her mouth. “You going to come for me, Elise?”
“Oh,” she sobbed, digging her fingers into his shirt. “Oh! Oh!” Her legs flailed a bit even as they locked up, and he continued to pump his hand in and out, his mouth teasing hers.
And it was too much. She came fiercely. She came so hard that a rush of wetness flooded through her panties and her entire body locked up, wracked with tremors, and another sob burst from her throat.
She’d never come so hard in her life.
She seemed to stay up forever, too, Rome’s thumb brushing back and forth over her clit even as she came and came and came. But then she began to uncoil, ever so slowly. And as she did, she had the horrible realization that the thighs and crotch of her jeans were totally, completely soaked.
Oh my god, she’d peed on him. She’d come so hard she’d lost control of her bladder.
“God damn,” Rome said in a low voice.
Horrified, she pushed his hands away, trying to squirm away from him. “Oh my god. Oh my god.”
“What?” She felt his big body shift on the bed, and there was tension in his voice. “What’s wrong?”
A hysterical laugh choked in her throat. How could he not know? She’d freaking peed on his hand. Humiliated could not even begin to describe how she felt at the moment. Tears of shame flooded her eyes and she swung her legs off the bed, then began to feel around for her sweater. Tonight had been so utterly perfect and . . . she couldn’t believe it. He was probably just as horrified as she was at her reaction.
And where the hell was her sweater?
“Elise? What is it?” She felt the bed shift and then the light flicked on. He stared up at her, all soft, sexy eyes, gorgeous body, and an enormous tent in the front of his pants that she couldn’t take her eyes off of.
She shook herself, then snatched her sweater off the ground after finding it in a nearby corner. Tears of humiliation were leaking down her face. “I’m so sorry.”
“What? Why?” There was nothing on his face but confusion. No revulsion. Hadn’t he realized what she’d done? He had to—the entire crotch of her jeans was sopping with her response.
She shook her head, unable to voice the words, and hastily dragged her sweater over her head, tugging it down as far as it would go. It only covered her to mid butt, though, leaving the rest of her jeans obviously wet. She wanted to cry. Well, cry harder. And escape.
Except he’d driven her here, and no one else was home.
Another sob escaped her throat. She’d figure something out. Hide in the main lodge—somewhere—until her pants dried and get someone to drive her home when they came back. Somehow.
She put a hand on the door, ready to leave.
Rome’s body leaned against the door. “Elise, don’t leave.”
She shook her head, her entire body trembling from sheer humiliation. She couldn’t look him in the eye.
“What did I do? Tell me what I did and I’ll fix it. Did I go too fast for you?” Rome’s eyes were filled with worry, and his handsome face was lined with frustration.
“What did you do?” Yup, her voice was hysterical. “It’s what I did.”
He shook his head at her. “Baby, you were amazing.”
Was he being deliberately obtuse? “Up until the part where I peed on you,” she said bitterly, and reached for the door again. “Please, just let me go.”
“Wait, wait.” His hands went to her shoulders and he dragged her away from the door, and began to nuzzle her neck again. “Holy fuck, Elise. Are you kidding me?”
“Let me go,” she said softly, still avoiding his gaze but trying to squirm away from his affectionate touches. “Please.”
He didn’t let her go. Instead, his arms wrapped around her and he continued to press kisses on every inch of her face and neck he could reach. “Baby, you squirted. You’re a s
quirter.”
“What?” She pulled away.
“It’s a good thing, I promise. Not every girl’s a squirter. And it sounds crude, I know, but I assure you, it’s totally natural. You didn’t pee on me, Elise. You came so hard that you ejaculated.”
Her face burned so hot she was sure she’d never stop blushing, but she stopped struggling. “I’ve never . . . I mean . . . I never . . .”
“When touching yourself? Maybe I just made you come a bit harder than you’re used to.”
She glanced over at him, uncertain, and was surprised at the smug look of pleasure on his face. She relaxed a little, but god, she was still so embarrassed by her body’s reaction. “You shouldn’t look so happy about it.”
“Are you kidding? I’m fucking stoked. You came so hard, and just for me.” His hands ran over her body again, and he buried his face against her neck. “You were so goddamn wet I nearly came in my pants as soon as I touched you. Knowing I turned you on that much? How can I not love that?”
She struggled for something to say to burst his bubble of pleasure, but when she couldn’t come up with anything, she said in a small voice, “My pants are all wet.”
“Yeah, that’s my fault,” he said again, and his voice was all husky. “I didn’t think you’d come so hard or I’d have stripped you naked. You can wear a pair of my boxers and we’ll hang them to dry, okay?”
She nodded.
He released her with another satisfied little kiss to her mouth that would have been charming if she hadn’t been so embarrassed, and went to dig a pair of boxers out of his clothing drawer. He presented them to her a moment later, and she scurried to the bathroom to change out of her panties and jeans. She scrubbed her garments in his sink and hung them on the shower rod to dry, and then returned to the main room of the cabin.
Rome was lying on the bed, still fully dressed. He looked her up and down as she emerged. “That’s a nice look.”
She tugged on the hem of her sweater, feeling a little silly since it was currently paired up with boxers. “I hear it’s the latest in Paris.”
He chuckled and patted the bed, inviting her to sit next to him.
The Virgin's Guide to Misbehaving Page 10
