Roman was distracted with something when he answered the door in nothing but a pair of snug fitting, worn jeans that hung low on his waist and a cell phone in his hand. That's probably why he didn't notice how I practically lost my breath, when I took a look at how his chiseled pecs flexed as he motioned for me to come in.
But there's something about a man's back, especially this man's back. A broad, strong one with sloped shoulders that looks and probably feels as if it could carry the weight of the world across it. Magnificently adorned with an intricate and patterned tattoo that covers the entire span of it. I've never seen anything like it in my life, and it is on full display as he moves his way around his professionally designed stainless steel kitchen, brewing some sort of latte concoction. Something with chocolate, espresso, milk and a dash of rum or some sort of alcohol. Something which is probably going to taste just as delicious as he looks.
From what I know about Roman so far, I realize that with certain things, he goes about them with a great deal of calculation. He wouldn't be making this drink if he hadn't perfected the recipe. He wouldn't have asked me come here if he didn't have a very specific reason, and it's certainly not to take a look at his computer.
Like I told myself earlier, this is a really bad idea. I'm not sure why I still decided to come here. I ended up having a good time chatting with Jagger earlier at Java. It was easy. He doesn't intimidate me the way Roman does. He doesn't challenge every frackin' thing I say the way that Roman does. Our conversation wasn't filled with uncomfortable sexual tension or him dragging me to the back and shoving his fingers in my vagina.
We talked about his upcoming swim trials, my app, his little sister, and my cat back home. I only asked him one thing about Ethan, even though I promised Sloan I wouldn't. I just couldn't help it. Although it's obvious that we are definitely done, I'll always be curious about just how deep Ethan was into drugs and exactly what kind of trouble he brought upon my doorstep that night. I also wanted to get an idea of just how completely far my head was buried underneath the sand.
"I don't know much Elizabeth. I just know that he's been doing drugs and was selling drugs on campus for at least a year. His parents knew about it, at least about the using, but they didn't want to wreck his swimming eligibility by putting him in rehab in the middle of the season."
"Did you know about any of this before the assault at my place Jagger?"
He sighed. "I'm not going to lie to you. I knew a little about what Ethan was into. Everybody did, but I had no idea he was involved with dealers like that."
When I thought back to certain conversations between Ethan and I, certain nights out, there were definitely red flags. Every time I thought something was off between us, it was probably because he was high, and I just didn't know what being high looked like. I didn't even start really drinking wine until well after I turned twenty-one.
"Do you think they'll come after me again ... those men?"
Jagger picked up one of my hands gently. "No. They weren't after you. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. They followed him to your house, but they didn't target you specifically. Plus they got their pound of flesh already. They wanted to teach Ethan a lesson and they did. It's over. Don't worry." He says sweetly.
A soft ballad starts playing through a Bluetooth speaker in Roman's living room which snaps me back to reality.
"I think you'll like this Duchess."
Roman turns and hands me a cream colored mug with gold around the rim. It's hot to the touch. I sip it carefully, so I won't burn my tongue. It's absolutely delicious like I knew it would be. I still don't say much of anything, because there's a heart wrenching song playing through his sound system that I find myself listening attentively to. I'm not familiar with the group, but they are provocatively singing of seduction, passion, and pain.
"How is it?" Roman asks as he sits down carefully next to me with a matching mug of his own. "As good as Java's?"
When he relaxes on the couch next to me, Mr. Tibbs finally relaxes and goes to lie down in what seems to be his special corner of the room. Thank God.
"Better. It's delicious."
He nods with satisfaction, takes a sip from his mug, then carefully places it down on the coffee table. I can't help but stare at his hands when he does. They're big and strong like the rest of Roman, and they're very close to the hem of my flouncy skirt. So I press my knees together even tighter. He's being too polite. Too nice. I don't trust it. I don't trust myself.
"I want to know something Duchess." He holds my eyes steady with his own.
I swallow hard. "What is it?"
"This."
He takes his hand and glides it slowly under my skirt and between my legs while never taking his eyes off of me.
"Open." He commands softly and I obey.
His fingers gently rub across the seam of the lace trim of my bikini panties several times and then as my eyelids grow heavy, they carefully slide the crotch of my panties to the side. By this point my eyes are closed for probably several reasons. One being that I can't believe that I'm allowing him to do this ... again. Another being that it feels so good that I wish he'd never stop.
Suddenly his fingers stop moving and like a switch my lids flick open.
"First I need you to hand me the mug," he instructs me in a very thick voice. So I place it on the side table as he nods in approval.
"Second I need you to keep your eyes wide open and on me."
I swallow slowly as if there's a thick piece of caramel candy sliding down my throat.
"Third–" Then his fingers start methodically moving again up and around but never directly against my clit. "You're soaking wet."
I instinctively clamp my legs shut. He stops moving his fingers again and smiles.
"It's ok. I was just checking Duchess."
The smug bastard slides the crotch of my panties back in its rightful position and gives the top of my pussy two soft pats before sliding my skirt back in place. If it's even humanly possible, I got even wetter and my throat tighter.
He stands up and holds his hand out to mine.
"Let's dance."
What. The. Frack.
I don't even know how I can possibly dance to an emotionally charged song like this after what just happened. He's playing head games with me. I may not be the most experienced player on the block, but I know when I'm outmatched.
"I don't dance." I keep my arms tightly to my sides.
"We danced at my father's party."
"That was different."
"You swayed those hips like a pro in The Lotus before everything went down."
It just dawns on me. "Was that you in the corner?" I ask in a whisper. "Watching me that night?"
He smiles and grabs my hand to pull me up.
"This is one of my favorite songs." Is all he says in response. "Come on."
"Well was it you?"
He exhales slowly in frustration with me. "I told you I spotted you the moment you entered the club did I not?"
When he grabs my waist and stares down at me, I reluctantly raise my arms and stretch them around his neck. Clasping my hands together. He pulls me in a little further to him and I smell chocolate, coffee and him. So I do the only thing a girl could do in this position who's losing herself to distraction. I rest the side of my face against his naked chest and sway to the hypnotic melody of the song and the singer.
I've never felt so warm and so wanted. Like I'm exactly in the place where I'm suppose to be.
Actually, I'm in a shit load of trouble.
When the song ends, Roman takes a seat on his sofa and pulls me down next to him. With one arm around my shoulder he uses the other to pick up the remote and turn the flat screen on.
"Not much on in the middle of a Saturday. Want to order a movie?"
He's fingering some of my hair with his free hand.
"I'm supposed to be taking a look at your desktop remember?"
"We've got plenty of time for that. Fin
ish your latte."
He leans across me and hands me my mug. The maneuver is obvious. The entire span of his bare torso is in front of my face. If his objective is to tempt me enough to want to lick his chest, he's damn close to mission accomplished.
"Thanks." I say sarcastically.
He chuckles.
"Pick a movie or else we'll do an activity of my choosing."
"I want to talk instead." I say.
"About?"
"I need some dating advice."
Roman unwraps his arm from around my shoulder and lifts my chin up to look directly in his eyes.
"For dating who?"
I nervously clear my throat. "After coffee today, Jagger asked me out on a date. I said yes, but then he said he'd call me to firm up an exact date and time."
"You said yes." He repeats in an icy tone. "Elizabeth I just had my hand in between your legs not longer than five minutes ago."
"I like him. He's ... easy."
"And what am I Elizabeth?"
"You're my cousin."
"I'm your what?"
Roman starts to slide his hand back underneath my skirt and along the inside of my thigh.
"Your what?" He asks again.
His fingers skillfully slide under the side of my panties and then he rips them apart with a single firm tug.
"Roman please." I beg prayerfully.
"Your. What." He repeats again in a husky voice that's filled with promise of more to come.
He slides one of his fingers inside me, and I inhale harshly from the sudden but welcome intrusion.
I hate how wet I am.
I hate that he knows how my body responds so willingly to his voice and his touch.
There is no hiding between us. I'm unable to feign discomfort at the fact that we're cousins, because my body betrays me every frackin' time. My body is doing all the talking, and it's saying, "who gives a shit."
"What's my name Duchess?"
"Roman I–"
"Uh-uh. That's not what you call me."
I think for a minute. Oh...
"Masterson."
"That's right baby. My dick gets so hard when you call me Masterson. When you start calling out my name in a few minutes, that's the name I better hear."
I close my eyes as he gives me that visual. Me calling out his name. And I get even wetter.
"Open those beautiful fucking eyes Duchess. I want them on me. I want to watch them tear up when I make you fall apart for me again. Eyes. On. Me."
He slides a second finger in. Pumping them rhythmically in and out of my core with the deep precision of a pro. How he talks to me, what he's doing to me, it's all so ridiculously addictive. I want more. I need more.
"Please–"
"Shhh Duchess. When it's time for you to beg, I'll tell you baby."
Then he stops completely.
I watch him with bated breath as he gets down on the floor on his knees directly in front of me and stares at me with great intensity before he speaks again. I can feel my heartbeat all the way up in the middle of my throat.
"Ask me what I plan on doing with your body Duchess."
My breaths are shallow. "What do you mean–"
"I gave you clear direction. Take it. I said to ask me what I plan on doing with your body."
Oh God.
"Whaaa ... what do you plan on doing with my body Masterson?"
He smiles wickedly.
"I'm going to have you lift up this pretty skirt all the way to your waist, and you're lucky I don't tear this fucking thing to shreds, because I know you wore it specifically for the swimmer. Nevertheless, you're going to lift that skirt up high for me. Then ask me what comes next Duchess."
Both of his hands are under my skirt now. Kneading my thighs and the crease of where my thighs meet my hips. Thumbs rubbing all around the outside of my labia. It feels a little bit like torture and a lot like heaven. When I open my mouth to respond, nothing but soft moans escape.
"Ask me Duchess." He says again as my massage becomes firmer and deeper just like the bass in his voice.
"What are you going to do next?" I manage to get out.
"I'm going to spread your legs wide while you stretch your arms across the back of the sofa and you're going to keep them there. Now ask me what's next Masterson."
"What's next?" I gasp as my head falls back as he starts to softly kiss the inside of my knees. I know it's just a matter of time before he starts working his way up. Roman seems to really enjoy being between my legs, but not more than I like him being there. I'm aching for him. I need to come.
He stops all movement again, and I would yell out of utter aggravation if I didn't think it would inspire him to do something far worse. I think he's taking great pleasure in this game of denying me.
"You forgot the last part of that question Duchess."
Wait what?! Oh...
"Masterson." I smile. Of course. He loves it when I call him by his last name.
"You're fucking up Duchess. Start over from the beginning."
This time he grabs both of my nipples through my shirt and begins to roll them tightly between his thumbs and pointer fingers. A most delicious distraction that takes the orgasm that was already slowly building and rolling it straight front and center. I'm about to come hard.
That's when his hands and body back completely away from me.
I want to cry and then kick him straight in the gut for stopping.
"I have one rule Duchess. Your orgasms belong to me. You'll come when I tell you to come."
I take a second to get control of my breathing as the immediate need to come subsides.
"Lets try this shit again. What do I want to hear?"
"What are you going to do next with my body Masterson?" I ask in the most business-like tone I can muster.
"That's what I wanted to hear. You're learning. Next I'm going to get a good hold of that beautiful ass of yours, lift you high while you hold on tight, and eat what's mine."
At this point I'm trying my damnedest to hold off the orgasm that is roaring back like a lioness. No, like a damn dragon. I don't know what his kinky ass might do if I come before he says so. Still kneeling on the floor, he moves close to me again and settles in between my legs.
"Lift your pretty yellow skirt up to your waist baby."
I can't believe that I'm following his orders, that I'm really doing this, but I can't imagine doing anything else at this moment. I want this. I want him.
"Now spread your knees wide and don't close them again, or I'm going to have to spank that pretty ass."
It's taking everything for me not to allow my head to fall back on the couch. The sensations that are bombarding me are overwhelming. Looking at a man dead in his eyes while you're spread completely open is not an easy task or for the faint of heart. I'm exposed in a way that makes me both excited and uncomfortable. Both are emotions that seem to please Roman.
"Give me my pussy now."
I grip the sofa a little harder. Every dirty word and command he gives me is pushing me farther and farther to the edge of an orgasmic abyss. He uses both of his rough hands to scoop me underneath my ass, lifting me higher for easy access, and then he wastes no time getting to work. Licking me continually from front to back.
"Beautiful," he says reverently against my pussy.
He stops after a few strokes to rest (I think) and uses his thumb to rub my clit back and forth several times. When my hips start to move in tandem with his handling of me, I can feel a smile spread across his lips.
"That's it baby. Fuck me back."
I can feel the orgasm winding inside me tightly like a coil. I know that it's going to be a powerful one, because Roman obviously likes to tease and draw the orgasms out. He starts then stops tongue fucking me over and over, and it feels like a roller coaster ride, with hills and valleys but all completely exhilarating. A thrill ride.
But I can't hold on any longer.
Tears start to pool as I try to delay the inevi
table.
"Please–" I beg.
I clench my fists into the back of the sofa as I'm about to release, and right before I scream bloody murder, Roman stops and smacks my pussy swift and hard with the flat palm of his hand.
Immediately I explode.
"Fuck!" I scream.
I see fireworks in front of me and bursts of sunlight in my peripheral vision, and my heart is racing a mile a minute. My arms flop to my sides as I'm loose as a noodle and panting heavily. I buck a little as a few aftershocks run through me. Roman allows me a moment to come down, but no more than a moment. He flips me over so that I'm on my knees and leaning over the edge of the sofa. I don't see this one coming, but hear and feel it as he gives me another whack, but this time across the ass.
"Next time you wait until I say you can come Duchess. Nod if you understand."
I nod yes. Still breathless. Still blissful.
"Sit back on your heels and raise your arms baby."
I hesitate for a moment.
"I just want to take your shirt off, so I can kiss your back."
It takes every bit of strength I have, but I raise my arms as Roman slowly peels my tank top above my head. Then he unsnaps my bra and lets that fall on the floor behind the sofa. My breasts feel heavier than normal and my nipples as hard as stone as he slides his huge hands around the front of me and tenderly massages them. He continues his massage as he talks to me.
"You smell so fucking good Duchess. You feel so good," he says while tenderly kissing me in the center of my back. "I just want to bury my dick so far inside you, that you'll never want easy again. You'll always want hard."
At this point I'm moaning like some wounded animal. I need more relief. I need him inside me. I know this is him forcing my hand. Making me choose between him and Jagger, as if there is really a choice, but I don't want to think about that right now. I don't want to consider the ramifications of my actions. I just want penetration.
"What do you want Duchess? You want it easy or hard?"
"Hard." I moan telling him what he wants to hear, so that I can get what I need.
Cousins (Cousins #1) Page 16
