“How is it possible that a woman who drank to having a threesome, and sucking a dick, has never experienced an orgasm?” He took his head in his hands. “Help me understand.” Looking up and reaching across the table, he covered her hand with his.
Her eyes went down to their hands, and stayed there.
Roman pulled back. It was the first time he’d ever really touched her, skin on skin. He hadn’t even realized it until that moment. Whatever she’d just felt, he’d felt it, too.
“It hasn’t been for lack of trying. Just hasn’t happened, okay?” She bobbled back and forth from her side of the booth. “Okay,” she said. “Never have I ever--”
“Hold on now,” Roman said, holding a hand out after finally swallowing down his drink. “It’s my turn.”
“Sorry.”
“You’re not going to drop a bomb like ‘I’ve never had an orgasm’, and then expect to steal my turn right after.”
“I think I’m getting too drunk for this game now.”
“Oh hell no. We’re just getting started.” And this was getting too good. “Never have I ever…” He rose his eyes to the ceiling, contemplating the best way to steer this game in his, very curious and desired, direction. “Had my pussy licked.”
Angie rolled her eyes. “You don’t have a pussy. You can’t do that. Doesn’t count. Next!”
“Okay, okay. Never have I ever…” He bit his lip, deciding to give her a break. “Been in love.”
The smile on her face immediately fell, and she didn’t drink.
Roman’s eyes bore into hers, waiting for her to reach for her shot glass. To take that drink. She didn’t. So she’d never been in love, either. Poking his lips out, he swallowed back his shot. This time, when she tried to refill his glass with unsteady hands, he placed his own hand on top of hers, helping her guide the rim of the bottle to where it needed to be.
“Thanks,” she whispered. “Never have I ever gotten a tattoo.”
He picked up his glass and swallowed it back.
“Really?” Angie’s eyebrows rose. “Yeah? Where is it?”
“Maybe one day I’ll show you.”
Angie sat with her mouth agape, unable to respond.
This time, he refilled his own glass, and she was thankful. She was sure she’d spilled at least half of that bottle on the table, on the floor, in her lap, everywhere but where it actually needed to be, and now that she was picturing the million and one places Roman may or may not have had a tattoo, she was sure her hands were all but useless.
He spoke as he poured. “Never have I ever had a one night stand.” He set the bottle down.
Angie took her drink immediately.
Roman burst into laughter, having to look away from her when the hilarity of the situation became too much. As the violent laughter nearly overtook him, he choked himself, and began to cough.
“Jesus,” he said, looking back to her as he pounded his fist into his chest. “How is it possible that a woman who’s done so much more than me, sexually, is so frustrated? You’ve had threesomes, you’ve sucked dicks, and apparently, you have no qualms about one night stands.” He shrugged. “What’s the point? How are you so frustrated?”
“I’m not frustrated.”
“Sexually,” he clarified.
“I’m not sexually frustrated.”
“You are.” He watched her. “You just don’t know it.”
She rolled her eyes.
“And that’s a damn shame.”
“Stop saying my life is a damn shame.”
His eyes jumped back and forth between hers. “I could take you there,” he suddenly whispered.
“Is this some sort of contest to you now? Who can make Angie Colt cum first?”
His smile grew. “That’s adorable. Say it again.”
“Say what?”
“Cum.”
“No.”
“I could.” He suddenly said. “I really could take you there, Ang. Tonight. If you wanted me to.”
“I don’t want you to.”
“No?”
“No.” Her eyes fell to the shot glasses as she refilled them unnecessarily, sending vodka tumbling over the brim of each one. She didn’t know if her hands were shaking out of control because she was truly drunk, or because she could feel his eyes blazing into her from across the booth, making promises they could never keep.
“I know you like me.” He waited for her eyes to meet his.
“Don’t flatter yourself, Romanovsky.”
“It’s obvious. It has been since that day I picked up your books for you.” He tilted his head at her, smiling knowingly. She was just as adorable now as she had been back then. “Do you remember that day?”
“No,” she said. A damn lie. How dare he bring up that day in the hall?
She’d been the nerdiest freshman, and the cool girls had been making their daily rounds, bullying her to within an inch of her life. They’d emptied her backpack onto the floor, and as she fell to her knees to pick up her stuff, it was all Angie could do to hold herself together. She’d been damn near tears as she gathered her things, but those tears dried fast when she looked up at saw Roman’s smiling face. He was a junior, well liked, constantly surrounded by girls and hangers on. Surely he wasn’t helping her pick up her books, with a kind smile on his face?
He had been. He didn’t say a word, not that day, or any day after, but he’d helped her.
Replaying the memory, her heart was defenseless. She was rocketed back in a flash. Lonely days that seemed to drag by, lunches alone in the bathroom, feeling like a prisoner in her own life. He was the only person in that place who’d made it a point to look at her with kindness in his eyes, to see her, until Zoey enrolled the following year. The exchange had been so very simple, but something she’d yet to recover from.
Even now, it took her several moments to pull herself together.
“I know you like me,” he said, again.
“You really are an arrogant son of a b...” She couldn’t finish that. Her drunken heart wouldn’t let her.
“Don’t be embarrassed.” His grin was infuriating. “I like you, too. A lot.” He meant it. This was the first night in a long time that he hadn’t been in agony over his family. His life. His path. This was the first night in a long time that he just wanted to sit and talk with the person across from him. Just… be.
They were the words Angie had fantasized about hearing from him for so long.
He liked her.
She knew Roman liked her. Of course he did. But he liked her as a drinking buddy, a shoulder, someone to take in a football chokehold on game day, maybe with a few friendly-fucks thrown in for good measure, when he was bored. But he was so much more than that to her. She knew it, and she feared he knew it too. So she denied it. “I don’t think every single ‘Never have I ever’ is supposed to deviate into this kind of in-depth discussion…” She wondered if she was making any sense. The adoring smile she saw spreading blurrily across his face through her moist eyes told her she wasn’t. “I don’t think that’s the rules…”
He produced his wallet from his back pocket. “You’re done.”
She grabbed hold of the table when she nearly toppled over, not realizing she’d been falling slowly out of the seat until he reached across and took her arm, steadying her.
“I’m fine,” she said.
“You are,” he agreed, fishing a few bills out of his wallet and throwing them down onto the table.
Through her bleary vision, she was sure she saw a couple of bills that paid for their bottles three times over.
“Let’s go, Colt.”
She watched him come around the booth, and felt his arms go around her waist as he stood her up. His body was warm against hers as he pulled her close to him, nuzzling her into the warm wool of his coat, his chest, and his strong arms.
She was sure she must be asleep, because this was a dream.
***
“That was fun, Roman! I’m so glad y
ou invited me to go out with you tonight!”
“Why are you screaming?” Roman squinted down the long hall that led to the door of his apartment, steeling his body against Angie’s uneven legs, which were getting tangled up in his with every step they took. He pulled tighter at her tiny waist, holding her to him when she tried to remove her arm from around his shoulder. “No, hold on to me. Don’t let go. We’re almost there.” No way she could walk on her own.
Once they made it to his door, he cradled her body between him and the doorframe as he fingered his keys from his pocket.
“Are you trying to get me drunk and take advantage of me?”
“You caught me,” he whispered, finally finding the keys to his door. They wobbled in his hands. He was either drunk, or nervous. He could feel the heat hit his cheeks when he realized it was both. Angie Colt made him nervous in a way no woman had in a long time. When she suddenly reached out and ran her pointer finger sloppily down the middle of his button down, her wobbly finger should have been hysterical, but it only served to make him hyper aware of her. Touching him. He could think of a million other places he would love for that hand to be.
“Admit it,” she said. “You had fun with me.”
“I did.”
“You didn’t expect to. This was just some pity invite.”
His eyes met hers, shocked at how on the money she was. He was too embarrassed to tell her she was right, especially knowing he would never think of her that way, again.
As soon as he got the key in the door, Angie leaned against the doorframe and sank slowly down, until she was curled into a tiny heap on the floor.
“No, not on the floor.” He laughed, bending down to take her arm around his shoulder.
“I like floors. I’m fine here.” Angie waved.
He brought her back to her feet, steeling himself when she gave him all her weight once more. “You’re heavier than you look, you know that?”
“You’re strong,” she slurred.
She stumbled alongside him as he stepped into the apartment and kicked the door closed, leading her to the guest bedroom downstairs.
“Roman, you were right. Back at the booth. I do like you. Like, I like, like you. Ever since the day you picked up my books.”
Roman didn’t bother flicking on the light as he led her into the guest bedroom.
Angie craned her neck to take the room in. It was all white, glossy white chests, side tables, and all-white bedding. A white leather headboard stretched from the floor to the ceiling. The full-length mirror leaning against the far wall was almost silvery, but still white. A full moon glowed in through the tall windows situated on either side of the king bed.
The loft was on the top floor of a thirty-story building, so the moon seemed close enough to reach out and touch.
Angie reached out and tried. No avail.
The moon continued to shine in through the open window, taunting her, making the white room seem almost blue, including the curtains that lapped lazily along with the breeze.
Angie stared out of the window in awe of the beautiful moon she couldn’t reach, her revere broken only when Roman released her, plopping her down on the mattress.
He chuckled as she flopped down. It would be a matter of seconds before her drunk ass was passed out.
“Did you mean what you said about making me cum?”
His cheeks went hot again. He distracted himself from her words by removing her shoes.
When she sat up in the bed and seized his hips, he gently moved her hands away as she clawed at his belt. She was persistent and, impressively, able to get his belt and zipper undone even with wobbly, unsteady hands. She attempted to tug his pants off, but the button was still fastened.
“When did you start moving so fast?” he demanded, fighting to keep his pants on. She was surprisingly quick.
“I like you.”
“I like you too, Angie.”
“Then come lay down.”
“Not like this.” It wouldn’t be right. He eased his hips away from her when, by some miracle, she managed to get the button of his pants undone and went to work tugging them down. His arousal was present against his white briefs, betraying the false sense of control he’d been exhibiting, and rendering him helpless when she cupped him greedily through the thin fabric.
“Don’t do that.” It was more a warning than a plea.
Her hooded eyes caught the loss of control spreading across his face, and she clawed at him. “Can you lay down with me?”
“I can’t.” He really couldn’t. He knew himself too well. If he lay down with her, it would be a matter of minutes before he snapped. He would fuck her senseless, and regret it the next day. He wanted her, but when he had her, he wanted her lucid. He wanted her present for every breath, every touch, and every lingering tremor. “Stop.” A coy smile crossed his lips as she got her fingers into his briefs, trying to tug them down. She was mere inches from skin on skin, and he knew if she got those soft, warm fingers around his dick, he would be a man gone. So he seized her wrists, stopping her. “When did you get so damn strong?” He held her wrists in the air in front of her face. “Lay down.”
“I want to taste you,” she whispered.
He was on the verge. He had to get her into bed, and get the hell out of that room, as quickly as possible, or he might just do something he’d regret. “Back at the bar you couldn’t even find the straw in your drink, what the hell makes you think you can find my cock in the darkness?”
“Oh, I’ll find it,” she beamed, finally allowing him to lay her down.
He thanked god when she kicked her legs under the white sheets and blanket that he held up for her, fighting back laughter as he pulled them all the way up to her chin.
“It might take me a couple tries, but I’ll find it,” she promised.
“Another night.”
“I’ve wanted you for so long.”
He breathed deeply. “I want you, too, Ang. Very badly.”
“So have me.” She took his hand and brought it under the covers. The sequins of her top felt sharp as they trickled against his hand, so when the beds of his fingers suddenly plunged into her jeans and brushed the silky walls of her moist pussy, it shocked the breath clear from his throat, and he was lost. Hers. Unable to pull back.
“Please, Roman, just touch me.”
“Fuck, Ang.” He cradled his free arm on the bed next to her head, struggling to focus past the amazing feel of her walls wetting his fingers, or the slow swirl they began to make, searching blindly for the hardened nub he knew could make her scream. When he found it, the sound she made sent his eyes fluttering shut.
“You keep bragging about making me cum. So prove it,” she challenged.
“I’ll prove it.” He was far passed negotiation. She didn’t have to say another word to persuade him, because he was already there. He was already gone. If she thought she’d been able to get his button and zipper undone quickly, it was only because she’d yet to witness the speed with which he tore her button and zipper apart before pushing his hand back inside her panties.
She purred at the contact.
Easing his body into the bed next to her, careful to stay on top of the sheets and blanket, he focused his fingers on that firm bud between her folds, sure he’d give anything to be able to throw those sheets back and take it between his lips, lick it, suck it, drink her in like she really deserved, show her what a real man did with a woman he was as desperately attracted to as he was to Angie. For now, touching her would have to be good enough. Even flicking her clit with his fingers, which had taken on an uncontrollable tremor, was teetering on a fine line.
“It’s so good, Rome,” she whispered, taking the back of his neck, clawing her nails gently into the skin there. “Please touch me harder.”
“Just this.”
“Inside.”
“Not tonight,” he said, pressing her clit harder, memorizing the hushed purrs she made, when she made them, and where his finger
s were the second the sweet sounds hit his ears. He memorized each spot, each spot that stole a gasp from her, a purr, a whimper, and kept it in the back of his mind, revisiting it sporadically, until he could feel her stomach panting against his wrist, increasing in pace with each passing second. “You can’t cum, huh?” His smiling lips whispered filthy promises in her ear, promises he had every intention of keeping one day, before he took the lobe gently between his teeth. “You’re about to let it all go right this second, I can feel it.” He could smell it. Her scent crept up even from under the sheets, taking hold of him and testing his will even more. His hard cock knew that scent well too, and it beat against his briefs, clawing for more of the sweet aroma, for a closer acquaintance, pressing the zipper of his pants far apart in it’s struggle. It was a struggle that would have to go unrewarded.
“I… I…” She tried to speak.
He shushed her gently.
Her back arched off the bed as her orgasm hit her, and Roman was ready for it, lifting his own arm and body in time with hers, never losing his pace or his rhythm as he strummed her, grabbing every spasm as her body supplied them, urging it on, ready for more.
“Shh…” he whispered, again, when he was sure she was spent, positive she didn’t have another inch to give. With a cry, she collapsed onto the pillow behind her, and he followed her, lips still pressed to her ear as she came down from a violent high. “Close your eyes, Angie Colt.”
But they were already closed, and he kissed her sleeping cheeks, each one, before pressing his lips to her forehead.
He left them there, allowing his eyes to slowly flutter shut, fingers still entrenched in her spent walls. He felt them still twitching, swelling, contracting against his drenched fingers, and had to drum up every inch of restraint he could manage.
Claiming Roman Page 6
