by Joya Ryan
“Fuck, you’re wet,” he grated between laves of my nipple.
He withdrew, then ran the same finger over my clit, moistening it with my own cream. He did this again and again, delving inside only to retreat and tease, until my entire core was drenched.
“I didn’t realize how hungry I was until just now,” he said, releasing my breast and staring between my spread thighs.
Gripping the backs of my knees, he placed my legs over the armrests of the chair and bent down. I was spread to him, more vulnerable than I’d ever been. The first slide of his tongue against my hot flesh nearly made me explode.
“Mmm, better than my imagination.” In one long stroke, he tasted the entire length of me. Then without warning, he thrust his stiffened tongue inside.
“Oh, God!” I moaned.
Keeping my legs where they were, I wove my fingers into his hair again and pulled. He growled and tongued my clit so fast and hard it felt like a vibrator. “Yes, Roman. Right…there…”
He devoured the sensitive bundle of nerves, sending my body higher and higher, reaching for the pleasure that was so close. When he thrust two fingers inside, I was shoved over the edge.
“Yes!”
My orgasm raced out of control. Burning every surface inside and out, until I felt like I’d just taken on a new body. A new soul. Every vein beneath my skin felt like dried kindling, splitting in half. It went on and on. My lungs struggled to keep up with my need for air.
After what seemed like an eternity, he slowed his assault, bringing me down gently.
Slumping against the back of the chair, I eased my grip on him.
“That was—” I began, but stopped when he suddenly rose to his feet and walked away.
I instantly closed my legs, but shock weighted my shoulders down.
I heard what sounded like a drawer opening and closing. Before I had time to right my clothing or look behind me to see what he was doing, he was back—standing before me with the fire behind him, glowing like a god.
He tugged open his belt with one hand. The other held a condom, which he ripped open with his teeth. He didn’t bother taking off his shirt or his pants, just opened them enough to grip his cock, and roll the latex on.
I didn’t even get a chance to really see it before he said, “Stand up and turn around.”
My body was shaking, more confused than my mind. Intensity burned behind his eyes. He’d just spent a significant amount of time attending to my body. Praising me. But now there’d been a shift toward something animalistic.
I did as he asked. My skirt righted itself as I stood, covering me once more. His breath fanned over my ear, and he palmed the back of my thigh.
“You want this, Amy?” he asked.
I nodded.
“Say it.”
“Yes, I want this…I want to be with you.”
His hand slid up my thigh and cupped my hip, bringing my skirt with it. He nudged me to bend over. “Put your hands on the chair.”
I did. With my skirt pulled up, my whole ass was bared to him as I held on to the armrests of the chair once more.
Though part of me didn’t know whether to expect kindness or roughness, I was shocked to find that either option sounded amazingly desirable. There was so much of him that I didn’t understand. But I wanted to. Wanted to be in his sights. Wanted to affect him the way he did me.
“Fucking gorgeous.” He placed a hand on one of my cheeks and positioned himself at my entrance. When just the tip nudged inside, he gripped my hips in both hands. “Now hold on, sweetheart.”
In one hard thrust, he sheathed himself inside of me.
“Roman!” The fit was difficult, despite how ready he’d made me. I hadn’t been able to fully see him earlier, but he felt big. Almost overly so.
“Shit,” he choked out, clinging to my waist and stilling his movements. “You okay?”
“Y-yes,” I breathed.
Could he tell how long it had been? Somehow feel that I wasn’t very experienced? It had been more than two years since I’d had sex, and that had only been a few times with Warren toward the end of our relationship. It had never been like this.
“You sure? You feel…” He slowly stirred himself within me, making me moan. “So fucking tight.” He sounded on the verge, just like I was.
I pushed my hips back against him slightly, causing the crown to rub against that sensitive spot inside me.
“You feel so big,” I gasped.
He gently pulled out, and I wanted to cry at the withdrawal and loss of connection.
“I’ll go slowly this time,” he rasped, pushing back inside at a steady pace.
I savored every moment. The feel of him, surrounded by me. My emotions were short-circuiting, senses fraying like the end of freshly cut rope. I was coming apart around him.
I was no longer alone. In this moment, I didn’t have to hate myself for being the bad daughter who’d destroyed her family. Instead, I was part of something better—part of him.
It brought tears to my eyes. The intensity bordered on confused, amazed anguish. I wanted to bottle this feeling and keep it with me always. Roman wanted me. And I wanted him so much.
My heart beat wildly, pulsing through every nerve from the tips of my fingers to the base of my spine, and everywhere in between.
He leaned forward, rocking over my body. “You want more?” he grated into my ear.
“Yes.”
Straightening once more, he gathered my hair in one fist while the other gripped my hip.
“Amy,” was all he said before hammering inside of me.
My body jolted forward, but his hold on my hair kept me flush against him. My scalp burned slightly, the tingles spurring my already-aching body into a frenzy.
He thrust in and out, harder and faster. Pumping deeper every time. His grip kept me close, and his body moved fluidly with mine. He hit that spot inside over and over until I begged to come.
Releasing his grip on my hip, he wrapped his arm around me, delved between my slick folds, and rubbed my clit. I couldn’t hold on anymore.
“Roman,” I sobbed, shattering into a million pieces, his hold the only thing keeping me up.
He groaned and sank, if possible, even deeper. I clenched around him, over and over, bathing him in my orgasm. He stilled, buried to the hilt, as if simply enjoying the feeling of my body’s spasms. His cock twitched inside of me, and his heavy breaths echoed through the room.
“Fuck, Amy,” he growled, and I felt him tense with his own release.
He slowly withdrew, relaxing his grip on my hair. The strands fell from his fist and landed against my back as he pulled out.
I instantly felt chilly and achy. My body missed him already.
“I’ll be right back.” He headed toward one of the doors I had seen when I’d first walked in. Turned out it was a bathroom.
I took a moment to right myself. Standing up straight was almost painful, and the throbbing between my legs was one of total satisfaction and a little discomfort.
Had this been another situation with another man, maybe I would have felt different. But between my lack of experience and having no idea how to bounce back from what had just happened, anxiety rushed through me.
I felt confused. Like something had been taken from me, and all I could think of was how to get it back. But I couldn’t. It was done. Over. The previously clear line of this arrangement had been irrevocably blurred, and I had no idea how to react.
I refastened my bra, my breasts screaming at the lace for scraping over my swollen nipples, and quickly buttoned up my shirt. Righting my skirt, I looked around for my panties, but didn’t see them.
Roman returned from the bathroom looking more put together than he had when I’d first arrived. No sign of what had just happened. His hair was smooth, his white shirt tucked into his black slacks, his belt in place. Polished perfection. While I felt disheveled…cheap.
“Are you hungry?” He stood several feet in front of me, the fi
re shadowing his handsome face and making those eyes burn like the pits of a volcano.
“No.” I looked at my hands, which were fidgeting, and tried to ignore the roiling in my stomach.
What had happened? More importantly, how? In one conversation, at the sound of his voice and the persuasive look of his eyes, I had melted. Just like I had the first night I’d met him. He’d walked up, out of nowhere, and put himself in my world. But he was right—he never forced me.
From the beginning, this had been my doing. I just didn’t know how to handle the aftermath. The emotions of the last few days were like a rollercoaster in my chest. Up and down and up again, until I didn’t know if I was reaching for the sky or clawing at the ground.
“I think you should eat something,” he said, taking a step toward me.
“I want to go,” I whispered.
“Amy, look at me.” Another step.
I backed away.
“Amy,” he said again. “Look at me. Now.” The edge in his voice startled me, and I glanced up to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
I shook my head. “You didn’t. I just…I need some time to think about this.”
“Talk to me.”
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep the tears from my eyes. “I can’t.”
That was what had gotten me here in the first place. Roman was good with words, pulling you in before you knew what to expect. Tonight was the first time in a long time I’d felt alive. Like every mistake I’d made in my life didn’t matter. I was just a woman. A woman he wanted.
But that moment was over.
His energy had changed. Whatever ground we’d just gained didn’t matter, because we were back at the starting line now. I could feel it. The dynamic between us had shifted, all the intensity of the last few moments dissipating.
Standing before him, knowing what it felt like to have him inside me, was too much distance to handle. The need for him wasn’t fading, it was growing. It was pathetic how badly I wanted to just disappear in his arms. I hadn’t realized how hollow I truly was until right then. And I couldn’t face him.
“I don’t want you to go,” he said.
“Are you planning on making me stay?”
“No,” he growled. The way he said it tore something inside of my chest. He looked angry. But I couldn’t deal with that right then. I just needed space. Quickly. Emotions were flooding, and every insecurity, every ounce of doubt I had about myself and this arrangement, was rushing in on me. I refused to break down in front of him.
“You’re different…I didn’t expect this,” I whispered.
Because the truth was, every time I crossed paths with Roman Reese, I seemed to see a different facet of him. At the gala he’d been charming. At dinner he’d been demanding. And tonight, he was intensely consuming.
“I didn’t either,” he said, his steely gaze boring down on me.
I couldn’t take anymore. His looks and dominating presence were too much. I grabbed my purse from the table, walked to the door, and opened it.
“Let my driver take you home,” he called after me.
I glanced over my shoulder. “Thank you.”
“Amy—”
“Good night, Governor,” I said, and shut the door behind me.
Chapter Six
Hey,” Paige said, looking up from her laptop. She was in the middle of the living room floor, surrounded by crumpled papers, a legal pad on her knee. She closed the screen.
I locked the door behind me and took off my jacket. “Hi.”
“You okay?” Her tone was soft. We hadn’t spoken much since Roman had interrupted girls’ night yesterday. I kicked off my shoes and crossed my arms.
“I don’t know, Paige.”
She set the legal pad on the floor and stood, approaching me. “Did something happen? Are you hurt?”
“No,” I smiled a little. If there was a mama bear of our little den, it was Paige.
She cared—she just didn’t do emotions well. Logic first, questions later was her thought process. I wanted to tell her everything—God knew I could use some advice right now—but there were pieces I couldn’t share, not even with my best friend.
“We…Roman and I…” I glanced at my hands.
“You had sex?” she asked.
I nodded.
She sighed loudly, wrapped her arm around my shoulders, and sat me on the couch. “Want to talk about it?”
“That’s just it, Paige, I don’t even know where to begin, or what I’m feeling. I wanted to be there, but it was like once it was done, a fog cleared and it didn’t seem…real. Any of it.”
“They’re a different breed, Amy.”
“What do you mean?”
“Politicians. They’re different. One of their strongest features is charisma. Not all of them.” Paige rolled her eyes, as if mentally counting the people she knew to be otherwise. “But a lot of them. They have an ability to pull you in, consume your attention and focus, so all you can see is them. It’s not just your vote they go for, it’s your trust.”
I nodded, knowing firsthand that Roman was good at what he did. I had said as much to him earlier. But hearing Paige say it made everything hit home. I craved Roman’s attention, because when I had it, I felt special, a part of something. A part of his world.
“He treated me well,” I whispered. I’d never had in-depth conversations about sex, not even with Paige, mostly because there hadn’t been much to talk about. “But afterward, I couldn’t figure out why I felt so cold and alone. I had to get out of there.”
She nodded. “It’s kind of like a drug.”
“What is? Getting caught up in a politician’s charm?”
“No, getting caught up in a man.” Her voice was soft, like she was speaking from a place of real regret and sadness. If Paige had guy problems, she never spoke of them, or even showed an ounce of unease. “It’s scary and consuming even on its own. But add the power and cunning that come with a man like Governor Reese, and you’ve got a combination that’s hard to beat.”
I knew that. Roman was beyond a typical man. Politician or not, his presence screamed dominance.
“Not to mention, if he ‘treated you well’,” Paige added, nudging my shoulder, “it added to your freak out. You only feel bad about losing something if it’s worth missing.”
I smiled. That was true. The few times I’d been with Warren had been, well, nothing worth missing. After tonight, I was painfully aware that I had been walking around with a soul-slicing void in my gut: a deep emptiness that I hadn’t realized was so severe until I’d felt a connection with Roman.
“Did you tell him about your past?”
I shook my head.
“So he didn’t know you’d only slept with one guy, and the last time was more than two years ago?”
Again, I shook my head. It wasn’t a particularly awesome fact I enjoyed talking about. But apparently, not acknowledging it didn’t make it any less true, a situation I was very familiar with. Paige squeezed my shoulder and her voice became even softer.
“Do you want some Tylenol?”
Though tonight had been confusing as hell with a backlash of emotional turmoil I couldn’t quite sift through, it had been amazing and I didn’t regret it. However, the soreness from earlier was creeping up a little.
“Yeah, thank you,” I said.
Paige got up and walked to the kitchen cupboard where we kept the pills.
“Are you going to see him again?” she asked, handing me the medicine and a glass of water.
Her tone was a little different than it had been last night, when she’d asked me the same thing. Maybe she was coming around to the idea? I appreciated the kindness in her voice.
“Yes,” I answered instantly, and realized it had nothing to do with our arrangement. The alternative of not seeing him didn’t seem like an option. Already I was kind of wishing I hadn’t left. I wanted to be back in his presence. “There’s something about him, Paige.”
She nodded. “Just be careful. In this business, there’s always an angle. Find every ounce of strength you have and use it. All the time. Don’t cower and don’t back down. You control your world, okay?”
“You mean, power respects power.”
She smiled. “Exactly. And you’re stronger than you think.”
“Thank you.”
“You need anything else?”
“No, I’m good. Thanks for listening.”
She nodded and bent to hug me.
“Paige, I really didn’t mean for this to affect your job,” I whispered.
“I know.” She lightly patted the back of my head. “But it will.” Deep down, I knew she was right. I was just hoping the effect wouldn’t be major. “G’night, Amy.”
“Good night.”
It wasn’t until after Paige had gone to her room and shut the door that I realized what she had said.
It’s like a drug…
Only a few samples of Roman Reese had me wanting more. While I was with him, it was amazing, but coming down was a hard thing to deal with. I just wanted that next high. That next time to be with him.
My life’s work was helping people battle addictions, but maybe I was no better than the thing I was fighting.
After a weekend of not hearing from Roman, I’d spent my Monday morning on the phone being rejected by potential private donors, all of who were informing me that while drug rehabilitation was a good cause, a new center in Arbor Hill was basically useless. Even if it did receive state funding, I didn’t know how much money would come in, and I still needed to do my job in the meantime.
I was about to throw my work phone, otherwise known as the ringing spawn of Satan, through the window when my cell rang.
I didn’t recognize the number.
“Hello?” I barked, a little more rudely than intended.
“Tough day, sweetheart?”
For a split second, my heart stopped pumping and my lungs stilled. I didn’t know what to say to him. Partly because after I had left Friday night, I wasn’t sure if I would hear from him again. I hadn’t even known he had my number—I didn’t have his—though it shouldn’t have been surprising. He’d found me in a bar, after all.
