Cousins In Love: An Alpha Bad Boy Romance (Book 3)

by Lisa Lang Blakeney

  While Roman wasn't exactly jumping for joy about my last minute visit home, he wasn't mad either. He knows that I am my parents' only child, and that I want to make things right between us, even if they're acting like stubborn jackasses right now. So even though we both knew that we were going to miss each other like crazy (this is the first time we've been apart since becoming a couple), he made sure that it wasn't half as bad as it could have been by making sure that we shared a few racy, video phone chats.

  Roman: I'm about to Facetime you. Pick up.

  I locked my door and turned the TV on in my room for background noise, just in case my father decided to walk by my room.

  Me: Hello?

  Roman: Hey, Duchess.

  Me: Hi

  Roman: I feel like I haven't seen you for weeks.

  Me: I know. I miss you so much. It's so weird being away from you.

  Roman: Yeah, it is. Let me see your room real quickly.

  I walked around my old bedroom holding up my phone and showed Roman my canopy bed, the old pictures and mementos I've collected over the years on cork boards, my favorite stuffed panda bear, my weathered IKEA desk, and the view outside of my window.

  Roman: Very sweet. Now put the camera back on you. What do you have on?

  Me: This? An old T-shirt. I'm getting ready for bed.

  Roman: I need to tuck you in first.

  Me: Okay.

  Roman: Lose the shirt.

  I took off my shirt and slipped under my covers with just my panties on.

  Roman: The panties too. I want to tuck you in properly. Don't put the phone down this time. I want to watch.

  I pulled down and wiggled out of my panties with my right hand while holding onto the phone with my left. I noticed that Roman was intensely watching me while licking his bottom lip, and I could feel myself becoming wet in between my legs. We were both growing hungrier for each other.

  Roman: Good girl, but wait, don't get under those covers; because I need you to go get my vibrator for me.

  Me: What vibra–

  Roman: Don't lie, Elizabeth. I know you took it out of my duffle and packed it in your suitcase.

  I was caught. I left for Penn-Washington from Roman's house and decided at the last minute to pack a vibrator. My personal one was home, so I made the decision to take the one he bought to play with on me. How I was supposed to know he checked his inventory regularly?

  Roman: That's right you're caught. Now go get it. I thought the two of us had an understanding, Elizabeth. I am in charge of and in command of every orgasm you have. No vibrators, no fingers, unless they're mine.

  I pulled it out the side pocket of my bag.

  Me: I've got it.

  Roman: Now get on the bed. No sheets, or I can't see shit. Hold the phone high up with one hand and turn the vibrator on with the other. Get comfortable though. It's going to take me a while to tuck you in properly.

  The verbal exchange between us, the tone of Roman's voice, and the sound of the vibrator already had me terribly needy. I was afraid that I'd come the second I touched myself with the silver bullet.

  Roman: Spread your legs wider.

  I did as I was told.

  Roman: Your slick little pussy couldn't wait to come home to get what it needed. You needed to take care of things yourself while you were away, huh?

  Me: Roman–

  Roman: Quiet. Don't touch yourself with the vibrator yet. Just keep it on and ready for when I say you can.

  Sometimes Roman liked to play with sound. Sometimes with silence. All I could hear was the motor of the vibrator and the sound of my heart thumping loudly. And that's all he wanted me to hear for a moment.

  Roman: Now I obviously would rather have your hair threaded between my fingers, my balls deep inside of your cunt, while you ride me reverse cowgirl style. You like that position right?

  Me: Yes.

  Roman: I know you do. I'd pull you hair a little harder as you diligently worked me, the perfectionist that you are. The muscles of your pussy squeezing me so tightly, that I'd run the risk of coming way too soon. Or maybe I'd spread your legs wide, tie your ankles to the corners of my bed, and tongue fuck you until you started speaking gibberish.

  A moan escaped from in between my lips.

  Roman: Is your pussy throbbing yet?

  Me: Yes

  Roman: You want some relief.

  Me: Yes.

  Roman: I bet you do.

  Me: Please

  I begged.

  Roman: Spread wider.

  He waited a few more moments.

  Roman: Vibrator. Now.

  I placed the bullet on the side of my slippery clit and immediately began clenching my teeth in pleasure. My hips bucking. My sex dripping. I was sweating so much that my sheets were going to be soaked.

  Roman: Come for me, Duchess.

  I wanted to scream like I normally do when an orgasm rocks me to the core, but I couldn't because my parents were literally a few feet away down the hall. So I arched my back, bit my lip, and damn near crushed my phone to smithereens from holding it too tightly.

  Roman: That's it, baby, it feels fucking fantastic to me too. I'm about to come in my hand. I wish it was all over your face.

  He grunted loudly to his own release, and after a minute or so of heavy breathing, he said the four words that informed me of just what my punishment would be for swiping his toy.

  Roman: Now let's start again.

  ♥ ♥ ♥

  It was obvious that the slight tension caused by our separation had probably been exacerbated by two things: my anxiety over Ethan's email and the presence of my new employee, Blake.

  I've been on edge since I received that damn email and decided not to tell Roman about it. When I hold things in, such as anger or anxiety, I don't do well. I crave alcohol, carbs, tend to overwork myself, and sometimes I run for the hills.

  Of course I have my reasons for not talking. I haven't told Roman about the email for the same reason why I didn't tell him about seeing Shrek. There's no point in upsetting him about things that don't warrant a code red. The whole Java incident is over. Nothing happened. He didn't approach me. I'm not even sure those dead eyes of his recognized me. The email from Ethan only matters if I respond, and I haven't, so why can't I just pretend that I never received it? Why tell Roman and risk poking the sleeping bear? To make myself feel better? That wouldn't be right.

  The other issue I've been dealing with is the arrival of Blake. My new coder who was referred to me months ago by Jessica Miller. She’s an old classmate from high school with curly red hair and a kind smile, but someone I only really said "hi" and "bye" to, because we traveled in two very different social circles in school.

  She was the overachiever and outgoing popular type, and I was the under the radar, nerdy type. That's why I was a little surprised when she messaged me through Facebook, but evidently it was because she saw a post I made on the school's alumni page looking for a coder. I wanted someone local, and thought there may be a small chance that an old classmate of mine may have a referral. Lucky for me I was right.

  Blake is a close friend of Jessica's family. He's twenty-nine and has got at least seven years of real world, solid experience as a coder; way more than any U.S. based freelancer I've ever hired before. He's recently moved into the city and is willing to work for my rate. I'm not sure why. He's way overqualified, but I think he's in between real jobs.

  In the fall, my old high school throws a big homecoming celebration and football game that most alumni try to make every year. I'm talking even senior citizens who live a hundred miles away will still come home to support it. It's really one of the biggest events of the year in my township, so there are also people from nearby towns who also participate. And it's complete with all the festivities and food that you'd pretty much see at any town fall festival or winter carnival. It never even dawned on me when I first interviewed Blake over the phone a few months back that he'd be attending homecoming just like
me, but it makes total sense. He's from the neighboring town of Washington Falls. Our high schools have a long-standing rivalry, and we actually play his alma mater in the homecoming game every year.

  So when I told Roman that I had to stay an extra week, because my mother's bad back started acting up again, but that at least I'd get the opportunity to be productive because Blake was also in town, he flipped.

  He's never given me specifics, but there's something about Blake that rubs Roman the wrong way. It can't be anything serious, because knowing him, he's already run a thorough background check on Blake. It's probably what Sloan told me the other day.

  "It's because Blake is smart and looks Viking yummy!" Were her exact words. I just laughed at her at the time, but now I'm starting to wonder. Could my uber confident boyfriend possibly feel threatened by of all people Blake?

  Now flipping out for Roman is not yelling at the top of his lungs or punching holes in walls, like many people assume he does based on his bad boy appearance and temperament. At least that's not what he does with me. Flipping out for Roman means dead silence. A scary, uncomfortable silence. Then when he does finally say something it's laced with expletives, spoken in an eerily deep voice, and it feels like shards of glass slicing someone's gut open, especially when those words are directed at me.

  "The fuck."

  "What do you want me to do, Roman? My mom can't move. She's stuck in bed. I have to help out for a few more days while my father is at work. He's can't take off until next week."

  "What the fuck would they do if you weren't there?"

  "You just want me to leave my bedridden mother! And what they would do if I wasn't here is not the point."

  "All right then let's talk about what the real point is. Why the fuck are you taking work meetings with Blake, when you're supposedly staying there to help your mother out? Why is he even FUCKING there?"

  "Supposedly?"

  "Is that the only word you heard from all the fuck I just said?"

  "You're being stupid."

  The moment the word flew out of my mouth, I wished that I could have grabbed it in midair and gobbled it quickly down my throat.

  The word stupid.

  He doesn't like when anyone uses it in reference to him, if anyone is crazy enough to say it out loud like me. Especially when he's angry. He takes it way too personally. I have no idea why. People call each other stupid all the time. But maybe the word hits a nerve because someone called him that when he was a kid, or maybe a lot of people did? So for me to call him that ... well I suppose it's tantamount to him calling me a bitch. I know better, but it just slipped out.

  "Go work then. My stupid ass has shit to do," was all he said after my faux pas and then ... nothing.

  He was gone.

  Total radio silence.

  No more phone calls, no more texts, and definitely no more R-rated Facetime chats. He cut me off cold turkey. I tried apologizing via voice mail, text and frackin' email for twenty-four hours, but after receiving no response at all, I was done. If he was going to be a stubborn ass about a simple mistake, so could I. In fact we didn't communicate with each other for three entire days and two nights. It wasn't until the third day of our cold war, that I finally received a text from him.

  Roman: You coming home yet?

  Me: Friday.

  Roman: Time.

  Me: Not sure yet.

  That was a lie. I knew what train I was taking, but I didn't want to tell him. Partly because I was still annoyed with him for acting like a total asshole about this for three days, and partly because I wanted to surprise him and see the sexy grin spread across his face when I did.

  Roman: Text me when you know.

  I didn't respond to that last order of his, because I didn't want to have to lie to him again. Or rather omit part of the truth. Blake was traveling back to Philly with me, and I really didn't need Roman seeing him if he picked me up.

  Talk about a train wreck. (Pun totally intended.)

  "You want my coat?" Blake asks since I'm obviously shivering.

  "Thanks, but I'm okay."

  He gives me a perplexed look, because it's crystal clear that I'm freezing, but thankfully he decides to let the subject rest.

  "Homecoming was kind of all right this year."

  "Yeah, you would say that." I grin. "Your team won."

  Blake laughs, "That's true, but we win every year don't we? What I meant was that the turn out was better than usual."

  "You're right, it was a really good turn out. Must have been one of the biggest crowds yet. I didn't even see you once."

  "You should have texted me. I would have met you somewhere," he said. "I haven't been in two years, so I hung out with some old friends from school back at their places mostly. I wasn't on campus that much. We only went to the game, not to any of the other stuff. Speaking of the game, did you try that carrot cake from the food truck over by the North field? You like sweets, right?"

  I'm learning more interesting facts about Blake as we work together. He often brings up restaurants he's visited or new recipes he's tried. He's a foodie.

  "Oh yeah, I've had it before. It's delicious. That's Ruby's truck."

  "Ruby?"

  "She was a lunch lady at Penn-Washington High for years. She always said she was going to start a business of her own, and she did about two years ago. The food truck was her dream."

  "You keep in touch with her?" he asks as if he's kind of impressed that I still keep up with the lunch lady. I almost hate to disappoint him.

  "No, nothing as nice as that. It's just that my mother knows everything about everyone in Penn-Washington. She's in every organization, club, and Facebook group that the town has. So she keeps me abreast of all goings on." I laugh.

  "Ah, I see," he chuckles. "Sounds like my mom and your mom probably have a lot in common. That's how we know Jessica's family. Her mom and my mom are in MADD together."

  "Mad?"

  "Mothers Against Drunk Driving. My older brother was killed by a drunk driver when we were in high school."

  "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't hear about that."

  "Well I'm a few years older than you and my brother was three years older than me. So chances are you were watching The Disney Channel when it happened."

  "Of course." I smile warmly. "You're right. I probably wouldn't have heard."

  Our train finally pulls in and without asking Blake grabs the handle of my carry on and motions for me to step ahead of him on the train. It's kind of nice. He's almost like the big brother I never had, except for the fact that I pay him. I need to remember that. Maybe he's nice, because he likes his job and wants to keep it.

  "Are these two okay?" he asks about a set of seats towards the back of the train.

  "Sure, those are fine."

  It's a section of four seats facing each other. So he gestures for me to take a window seat, then he takes the other facing me, and places my carry on and his backpack on the seats next to us on the aisle.

  My phone buzzes to life.

  Sloan: I miss u

  Me: Not for much longer

  Sloan: You're on your way home?

  Me: Yep

  Sloan: Yippee! Fun fact ... I got blown off by a man yet again.

  Me: Just quit already

  Sloan: I can't now. It's the principle of the thing. So what time does your train get in?

  Me: I'll be home in about an hour. I'll call you later.

  Sloan: Cool

  Blake watches silently as I shift around in my seat, taking off my jacket, and sending a last emoji text to Sloan. I feel a little self-conscious, like he's studying me closely, but not in a creepy kind of way. Just a curious one.

  "How's your mom feeling?" he asks as he pulls his shoulder length blond mane back behind his ears.

  "She's much better, thanks for asking. She has to rest her back a bit more, but my dad took off of work next week. So he'll be there to wait on her hand and foot. Thank God."

  "Ready to get back home
were you?" he says in a funny Star Wars Yoda-like voice.

  "Definitely." I giggle at his geekiness. "Oh and I meant to say that I'm sorry we weren't able to get as much work done as I thought we would. I didn't realize how much my mom still does at home. Even with just the two of them now, they really needed my help. She still does all the cooking, the cleaning and is part of like a thousand organizations. I was emailing on her behalf for hours."

  "It's cool. We're only a week or two behind your release schedule. We can make it up by putting in a couple of extra hours this week and next week. It'll be fine. Actually in a perfect world, I should be able to do everything, and you just check that it all works in the end."

  "Is that your roundabout way of saying that I should stop looking over your shoulder?"

  "No," he chuckles. "I'm just saying that you should be able to take care of your mom without worrying that the app is going to get behind. You hired me for a reason. You should trust that I can get it done."

  "I do trust you. It's just that I'm watching everything you do, because I want to learn. I don't just want to delegate."

  "You already know the basics of most of what I'm doing. You just haven't put a lot of the theory you learned to actual use yet."

  "I suppose you're right."

  "That Penn degree is a good résumé builder, but in this business, experience is everything."

  "That's exactly what I'm saying. At first it was entirely me working on School Bucks, but my lack of real world experience was holding the project back. I think it may have played a part in why I didn't get money from an investment group that I pitched earlier this year. I guess there's something to be said for knowing what you don't know."

  "Very true, but why don't we agree that you pull back for the next two weeks, and let me finish the updates. Then after the release we can spend the next two weeks getting you ready to help me code the next update by yourself. I'll just supervise. Deal?"

  I really like that idea.

  "Okay, deal."