"Have you been working out more lately?" I ask him practically panting. Knowing full well he has been working out like a maniac. Anything to keep his hands off of his delicate baby's momma. *Eye roll.*
"No, Elizabeth," he says tensely. "Why are you acting like you haven't seen my body before. I sleep with you every night."
Covered in sweats and on his back barely touching me. He forgot to mention that part.
"Oh, it's just that you look even more cut lately," I say in mock appreciation. Although it's totally true. Watching Roman's thick, hard muscles stretch and flex in motion, especially the parts covered in ink, is better than watching porn.
"It's the protein shakes."
"So how do I look?" I ask while adjusting myself on the stool.
"Beautiful as always."
"Have I gained some of my weight back?" I ask worried a bit about the weight I'll gain during this pregnancy.
"A little." He says in a grumpy tone. "You could stand to gain a couple more pounds though."
I smile at that comment. Only a man like Roman would want me to actually gain weight instead of lose it.
"I think you just want to fatten me up so no other men look at me." I joke.
"Not possible," he grumbles. "Men will always look at you. Assholes."
Roman enters the shower in all of his commanding magnificence and swiftly helps me up off of the stool. He carries me over to a corner of the shower and places me gently down on my feet. He leans us both against the wall, so that the tilted showerhead is hitting us directly.
I'm a little unsure about standing in this position because of my leg until he tells me firmly to, "Lean back on me."
His strong arms encircle my waist as I lean back with my head against his chest. A soft stream of water to my front. Hardness at my back. It feels heavenly.
"Can you hand me the body wash?" I ask.
"I'll do it." He practically growls in response. As if he's angry I even suggested that I'd wash my own self.
I grin triumphantly to myself as he grabs one of the Dead Sea sponges on the shelf and pours a generous amount of my favorite jasmine body wash on it.
He starts washing me at my neck first and meticulously begins washing me with the sponge in a slow, sensual, circular motion. I close my eyes and settle farther back into his body. Melting from his touch.
"Is this what you wanted?" he asks through gritted teeth by my ear.
"Mmmm, yes," I say raising my arms above my head and behind his neck.
"Me rubbing this sponge all over your body? Across your breasts? Down your back? Between your legs?" he asks while completing the motions.
"Yessss."
"Or were you hoping my hands would replace this sponge? Maybe hoping I'd slide my hands underneath these heavy tits and squeeze until your pussy starts gushing for me."
I yelp a little from his rough pinch of my nipple, but my one good knee becomes limp like a noodle as the blood rushes back into my breast once he releases it. I'm dying to come. I think these pregnancy hormones are doing a number on my libido. I'm aroused all the time.
"So responsive," he growls in my ear.
One of Romans hands cradles me in a possessive way around my neck while the other holds me at my waist. The hand at my neck reminding me that I belong to him. The other hand claiming his baby. I finally relax a hundred percent into his embrace. My full weight against him. I trust that he has me. I've never felt safer in my whole life.
"That's it, Duchess. Give yourself completely over to me."
His words spur me to softly moan in compliance.
"I wasn't planning on touching you tonight," he says. His voice thick with need. "But maybe just a little taste."
My pussy is throbbing, and I nod my head eagerly in agreement and bumble over my words like an idiot. "Yesss. A taste."
"Ask me," he demands.
"What happens next, Masterson?"
"That's a good girl," he says by my ear while holding both of his hands underneath my breasts and rubbing his thumbs along my pebbling nipples.
"What happens next is that I'm going to turn you around to face the corner, like that bad girl that you are. You're going to lean into that corner and spread your legs. Keeping all your weight on the only good leg you have. It's going to be difficult, but you're going to do it, because you've been begging for me to plow inside of you for days. And I always give my girl what she wants, even if it really isn't what she needs don't I?
"See I planned on waiting until your leg and throat were fully healed, and your belly was good and swollen with my seed, and then I was going to pound that pussy until you had to literally beg me to stop. And even then, I don't think I could stop myself. You know why, Duchess?"
"No," I say with a very dry mouth. My throat constricting.
"No, what?"
"No, I don't know why, Masterson."
"That's real good, baby," he says as he slides the fingers of his right hand between my folds. "Because this sopping wet cunt was custom built for my dick. That's why you've never been nor will ever be fucked by anyone the likes of me. This is mine."
He slides one finger inside of me.
"Today," he says.
Two fingers.
"Tomorrow."
Then he compresses my left nipple, my extra sensitive one, with his thumb and pointer finger. First softly. Then hard.
"And forever," he growls.
My orgasm is coiling inside of me like a fast moving, angry snake. It's going to be quick, powerful, and bite me in the ass. If I fall in this shower, I'm going to kick Roman's butt.
Then he stops completely. One hand back around my waist, the other totally out of my pussy. Yep, it's official. My orgasm bully is back in full force. He's not even taking any sort of pity on the cripple that I am.
He switches positions with me. Turning me around face first and leaning me into the corner, holding me at the waist the entire time. He uses his hand to guide my legs farther apart, making sure I'm leaning most of my weight on my good leg and my arms.
Then he drops on his knees behind me.
Still only holding me at the waist, but I can feel his breath on my ass. His lips are just an inch away from my pussy, but he doesn't do anything. He just waits for me to calm down a bit.
Controlling jerk.
"That's not going to work," I say snidely to the wall.
I probably shouldn't have said that.
Whack!
Roman slaps me firmly on the ass. I should have known it was coming, but it took me by surprise. A mixture of shock and carnal pleasure escapes between my lips.
"What the fuck did you say?"
I don't say anything in response. I can't talk, or I swear I'll come before I get two words out.
Whack!
"Are you deaf now, too?"
Oh. My. God.
"No." Is all I manage to eek out.
"What's not going to work?" he asks insistently.
"I'm not going to settle down. In fact if you slap my ass one more time I'm going to come so hard, and scream so loud, that I may traumatize Mr. Tibbs."
I notice that one of his hands drops low and he uses it to begin slowly stroking himself.
"You've got a greedy pussy, Elizabeth," he says as if he's almost in pain. Still stroking himself. Harder and harder.
Everything he says, everything he does, and every noise he makes seems so erotic to me right now, that I swear I'm about to lick one of these shower tiles. I wish he'd shut up, and take care of business.
This is so mean.
"What are you doing right now, Masterson?" I demand to know.
I hear him mumble a few unintelligible words to himself.
"What did you say?" I ask getting bolder by the minute.
"I said that I'm stroking my cock to relieve some pressure, because I'd rather be ramming it up inside of you, Duchess."
"So why don't you?" I reply with a bit of sass.
"You know why dammit."
"Don't
act like you care about my safety now. You've got a one-legged woman barely holding onto a wall inside of a wet shower."
"Shit," he grumbles as if he's just realized his error.
He stops jerking off and drags the shower stool over.
"Sit," he orders. "Now."
He helps me comfortably adjust myself on the stool.
"Spread your legs as best you can," he commands. "Lean your head against the wall."
It's hard to take commands right now. I'm still a little wound up.
"Wider," he orders. "Now relax, Duchess."
Roman kneels back down in between my legs looking like a powerful, stony warrior. His beautiful hard body, adorned with swirls of ink, wet with shower water, and the shiny scar under his eye seems to glisten in this light.
He looks up at me with lust filled, obsidian eyes. His dick hard as steel and stiffly bobbing up and down. He's trying to decide how he's going to move forward with me. I can almost see him working various scenarios through his head.
"Just one taste."
"Okay," I say knowing good and well it will lead to a lot more. At least I hope it does. To encourage him, I try to spread my legs a little farther.
He's hesitant at first. He begins by softly brushing the insides of my thighs with his knuckles. They move inch by inch closer to my sex but not quite the center. I shamelessly try to roll my hips forward, so that he gets the hint, but he chooses to continue teasing and torturing me. I think it's his favorite thing to do.
When spread apart, Roman's hands are huge. The span of them like the wings of a large eagle. To stop me from fidgeting, he holds me still at the crease of my hips with both hands. His beautiful mouth only millimeters away from my pussy.
My eyes are closed and all I hear is water falling and heavy breathing. Then as if we're in sync, I lean my body against the wall of the shower and he moves forward.
His mouth on my clit.
Suctioning softly.
Then a stronger pull.
A release.
Then a lick from as far back as he can reach with his tongue towards my ass and then moving forward, all the way to the tip of my clit and the top of my mound.
Roman likes rituals. They soothe him. And so he continues with this pattern of suction, release, and licking over and over and over.
I'm writhing.
I hate this damn cast.
I want to find the sharpest knife in Roman's kitchen and saw this thing the frack off. I want to wrap my legs completely around his head and ride his mouth.
But I can't.
And even if I could, he won't let me. He gets off on this crap. Bringing me to the edge, to the precipice, but controlling exactly when I fall over. But not this time. I've got a plan.
I'm going to draw on all the inner strength that I know I have and control my own orgasm for once. Hell, I'm a woman. I'm Wonder Woman. I'm oh mighty Isis. I'm about to give another human being life in a couple of months. I can do this.
I'm going to pretend to settle myself down, so that he thinks I'm not close to coming, when really I'm about to ignite. And then I'm going to scream bloody murder when there's not a damn thing he can do about it. Of course this is all good in theory, because he is way deep into his ritualistic rotation of eating me out.
And the shit is damn good.
I clench my eyes shut and ball my hands into fists. Rubbing his head or grabbing onto his shoulders would be a dead giveaway. It's my tell. But my orgasm is coming in like a runaway train. I try to take several normal breaths to try and bottom out the erratic shallow ones I'm taking, but it doesn't work.
He knows.
And he stops.
And then he has the nerve to start asking questions.
"Do you trust me, Duchess?"
"Yes." I practically snap.
"Do you love me?"
"Yes."
"Is this my pussy?"
"Yes!"
"And you promise you won't do any more stupid shit with my pussy."
"I promise."
"What did you say?"
"I promise, Masterson."
"That's my baby."
Then he gives my pussy a hard slap and descends upon it with his mouth.
Devouring me.
It doesn't take long before I start screaming. My heart beating rapidly like a wild rabbit. I think I now understand why some older men die inside of a woman. Coming is some serious shit. I feel like I'm going to pass out.
"I'm dizzy," I breathe.
Roman stands up grinning proudly. His mouth glistening from being covered with me. He lifts me up, kicks the stool away, and returns us to our original standing position in the corner of the shower.
Him standing behind me.
Holding me.
The water streaming across our bodies.
I can feel his steel length almost angrily poking me in the back, and just when I think this shower is about to go in another Rated X direction, he does a full one-eighty and begins to pull back emotionally.
Instead of giving me what I really want, him inside of me, he decides instead to return to his ritualistic washing of me again. This time giving a lot of attention to scrubbing and rinsing my scalp. Then repeating it all again. It's a half an hour of more torturous foreplay in my opinion, but I'm not complaining, because my eyes have been closed for the last fifteen minutes in total bliss. No one gives a hair wash like he does.
I only know that the shower is over once I hear him shut the water off. Sheesh, his building must have one hell of a hot water heater. We were in there a long time, and the water stayed the perfect temperature the entire time.
Roman scoops me up out of the shower and places me gingerly on the countertop. Even though he has a wide double sink bathroom counter, there's also a pretty large section of free countertop space where he keeps toiletries and freshly folded towels, and that's where he places me.
He grabs one of the plush white towels on the counter and wraps it around his waist. He lets the rest of his body air dry while he grabs another towel and starts silently drying me off. He's starting to piss me off all over again. I'm reaching the end of my patience with him. My pregnancy hormones won't allow this to go on for much longer.
"Roman."
"Yes."
"Why won't you touch me?"
"What are you talking about. I just gave you the best orgasm of your life."
He wraps a towel around my shoulders, which drapes over my breasts, almost as if he wants to hide them from his line of sight, while he figures out how to take the cast protector off of my leg.
"I'm not the Virgin Mary. So why are you handling me with kid gloves? I have had sex before you know. Plenty of it!" I try to yell at him but it's difficult, because my vocal chords are still somewhat sore and that bloody loud orgasm I just had didn't help matters.
"I'm trying to be good, Elizabeth. I told you just a taste. Don't push me."
"Good for what?"
"You're hurt."
"I'm fine. I have a broken leg."
"It's selfish."
"What is?"
"Sex is a very physical act. It's selfish of me to push you when you're hurt like this. We shouldn't have even done that shit we just did in the shower."
"You are aware that this cast has to stay on for eight weeks right?"
I see a flicker of something pass through his eyes.
"I'm aware."
"So we aren't going to have sex, real sex, for eight weeks? Is that what you're saying?"
"That's what I'm saying."
And now I want to strangle him. I don't think I can last two months without having sex with Roman. Not if we're living in the same city. On the same planet. Breathing the same air. I might spontaneously combust. Then he'll have to explain to my parents why there are bits of me all over his penthouse walls. Ugh!
"I'm dry now," I say seething. "Hand me my crutches please."
"Here," he says seemingly amused by my sour mood. "Oh by the way, we're going out later."
"Most couples stay in and have sex on New Years Eve." I deadpan.
He laughs out loud. Usually one of my favorite sounds ever, but right now not so much.
"No, Duchess. Most people bring in the new year by going out and partying. So go get pretty."
I wasn't in the mood to do all that it required to get pretty, but I also didn't want to spend New Years Eve in the house either. I already missed Thanksgiving and Christmas in the hospital and rehabilitation center. I didn't want to bring in the new year reading a book on my Kindle while he was in bed dreaming about dancing M&Ms.
"Can I invite Sloan?"
"I just want it to be the two of us."
Why am I not surprised that he doesn't want my best friend to tag along.
"Fine," I agree angrily.
I swear by this time next week, I'm going to be back in my own house and my own bed. I've got a long standing date with my battery operated boyfriend, and he doesn't care if I have a broken leg or try to draw out my orgasms. In fact, my battery operated boyfriend likes to get me there as fast as he can. Especially if he has a fresh set of double A batteries!
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
ROMAN
"I can't believe we're going to this place tonight."
"Maybe your New Year's resolution should be to broaden your horizons," I say to Cam on my speaker phone.
I just picked up Mr. Tibbs from the groomers, and I think he's pissed at me. He hates getting his nails trimmed, and he's just sitting in the passenger seat with what I swear is a scowl.
"If this is what comes with broadening my horizons, then I'm all good. Thanks anyway."
Cam is the only one I've told where I want to bring in the new year tonight and why. Well he and Jade, and that's only because I needed her help to orchestrate the whole thing. God knows it wasn't easy. I've planned blackmail schemes that were easier to pull off than this.
"You know you're going to eventually have to go to Miami," I say to him.
"I can handle all my shit for Kat from behind a computer in Philadelphia. What the hell do I need to go to Miami for?"
The Cousins Series Boxed Set Page 61
