There was a moment, when the waitress interrupted us, that I cared. Deeply. But one look around at the tables nearest us told me the glorious truth about switching identities: no one recognized me at all.
They recognized Roman, but Roman is enough of a local superstar that a quick wave and a hefty tip sent everyone back to business as usual.
Everyone except me.
There’s so much excess energy coursing through my veins I’m vibrating on the spot. The first thing Roman does is step close, run his hands from my shoulders to my wrists, and pull me in close.
“You can take a breath now,” he says. I’m about to argue with him—I’ve been breathing this whole time—when it occurs to me that I have, in fact, been holding my breath. I take a deep one in, a burst of oxygen, and Roman looks me in the eye. “If you need another one, now’s the time.”
“Another breath?” My voice feels thin. “If that’s true, you’re into some kinky stuff.”
A half-smile that sends heat down to my toes graces Roman’s face. “I could be into anything with you.”
“I’m into this, right now, the excitement, the anticipation—”
“Oh, that’s too bad,” Roman says. “Because I’m done with anticipation.”
The next moment I’m in his arms, close enough to smell the light manliness of the cologne on his skin, and I’m done ignoring my urges. I give in to the first one and lick the side of his neck, digging my teeth into the flesh there. Roman makes a noise that’s mostly animal. It gives me visions of him tearing my clothes off with his bare hands. He doesn’t disappoint.
He takes me directly to the bed, an enormous king-sized thing covered in the pale blue color scheme of this hotel, and uses his strong hands to bend me over the bed. Roman tests my ass with one of his hands, letting out an approving sound and giving it a slap.
It’s not hard enough to hurt, but the sting throws me into a heat so strong I throw my head back, nails digging into the comforter.
“Oh, you liked that.” His tone is confident, curious, as if I’m an experiment and he’s doing all this for the good of humanity. I’ll happily donate my body to the cause. “I wonder what I’ll find between those legs.” He bends down and breathes against the side of my neck. I feel his teeth there, teasing, threatening, and every breath I take is superheated with desire. One of his hands is moving down, down, down over my dress. “Spread for me.” I plant my heels on the floor, wide, knowing exactly what he’ll find. Roman’s hand glides between my legs, palm cupping my swollen pussy through the damp fabric of my panties. That extra layer does nothing to deter him from finding my clit with his fingertips while his thumb teases at my opening. I wish he’d tear them off of me. “Wet.” Nothing has ever been hotter than Roman Bliss assessing this most intimate part of me. “So fucking wet.” Then he forces my dress up over my hips and in a flash of tearing fabric and pressure he destroys my panties.
I’m torn between the desire for him to do the same to my dress and the fact that it was expensive. Roman pushes me down so that my breasts are pinned against the bed, and the next thing I feel is him working at the zipper.
It comes free, and then his mouth is on my back, pressing kisses into my spine. Every inch of exposed skin gets another kiss, another nibble, another bite. “Keep those legs spread,” he murmurs into my back. I can’t find words to answer him, only moans that would have absolutely mortified me in front of any other man.
He lets me close my legs to tug the dress off, then immediately presses them open again, wider than before. Roman resumes the line of fiery kisses down my spine, and I tense when he reaches my ass, but he doesn’t stop. He bites, swirling his tongue against the flesh there too, and I’m holding onto the comforter for dear life.
Then his mouth is on my aching slit, and I’m not a person anymore. I’m only an animal bundle of nerves and pleasure, rocking my hips back into his face. I can feel myself clenching as he licks and sucks and fucks me with his tongue. My thighs shake with the effort of holding them open. The rest of me shakes from holding all that pleasure in my body until I can’t hold it anymore and it explodes onto his tongue with another gush of wetness. Roman keeps licking, lapping it all up, and doesn’t move from between my legs until my knees buckle.
He’s there to catch me, somehow unhooking my bra and sliding it off even as he lowers me to the bed on my back.
My instinct is to close my eyes, but I don’t dare do it. The sight of him standing over me, still fully dressed in his nice clothes, the front of his pants bulging with his erection and his eyes bright with need, is something I never want to shut out.
I have never been so exposed.
Roman reaches down and unhooks one of my shoes, dropping it to the floor with a muffled thud. Then he unhooks the other. I have nothing left. No armor, nothing to hide behind. He wraps one of his hands around each of my ankles and spreads me wide open, pressing my knees up toward my waist.
I gasp at the intimacy of this, of having my most private flesh on display for him. It’s different from being bent over the bed, and he seems to know it. But Roman takes his time. He looks and looks, and my core pulses with how hot this is.
“Do you feel shame when I look at you like this?” He asks without taking his eyes from between my legs, where more juices are running down into my equally exposed ass.
“Yes,” I whisper, and that part of me tightens again. My body revels in shame. It’s dizzying, how much I love it in this moment, how much I’ve hated it all my life.
Roman reaches down, still holding one of my ankles, and sinks two fingers into me. I arch back on the bed, struggling for breath. When his thumb makes contact with my clit I come again, hard, gripping his fingers.
He adds another, then waits until I force my eyes back open, looking into his. The smile that plays over his lips burns right through me. “I should punish you for making me wait so long.” His thumb brushes dangerously over my clit as my body responds to his words. “You’d like that.” Again, it’s not a question, and I’ve never thought of the answer before this moment, but I would. I would like it. And I don’t even know exactly what he means. If it means another slap to the ass, a bit more shame…the thought makes me wetter. “But we don’t have time for that now. Do you know why?”
“Why?” I don’t recognize my voice.
“Because I need to fuck you. And you need to be fucked.”
He releases my ankle, only to take my hands and put them on my knees. “Hold yourself open for me. Don’t move.”
I breathlessly obey him, keeping myself spread and letting myself sink into how embarrassing this is, how much that shame turns me on, while Roman undresses in front of me. I have to watch him through the gap left by my own legs.
I’ve had plenty of dreams about this moment, but none of them come close to the reality of his muscled, naked body or the perfection of his thick cock. Eight inches and proud, standing out from his body. I lick my lips. He sees it.
Roman comes to the bed and grips my thighs, his thumbs digging into the back, and opens me another stretching inch. He teases between my legs, running his fingers over my slit and then down to my other hole. A single touch there sends a shock through my entire body, and he laughs. “So much to learn,” he says, and I don’t know if he means me or him or both of us, but I’ll take it. I’ll take all of it, no matter how dirty, how depraved…
He climbs over me on the bed and his thickness presses against my opening. His muscles work against mine as he enters me, so slowly it’s tortuous, until the head is inside. Then he stops.
I’m squirming, panting, mewling, but he doesn’t move. He puts a hand under my chin and pushes my chin up. The sensation of it there, so close to my neck, has me moaning.
“Tell me,” he commands. “Do you want more?”
I let out a whimpering please anthat’s all it takes to unleash him.
Roman takes me in one thrust, barely giving my body time to accommodate his size, and I’m swept under by how powe
rful he is, how relentless, how unforgiving in this moment. I don’t want to be forgiven. I don’t want to be given extra time to catch up. I want to be fucked by a man who can’t control himself, who wants me so much that no rules apply, and Roman gives me that, pinning me down by the hips and taking what he needs. I lose my grip on my knees, the thrusts are coming so hard, one after another, the rhythm all his.
He pulls out and I give a cry at the sudden loss, but then his mouth is on my chest, my breasts, his tongue circling over each nipple. It’s like I weigh nothing. He puts my feet on the floor and pushes me down with one hand, pinning me, and oh, god, I love being held like this, held down, like I’m a wild creature who might escape and he’s the only god who could tame me.
He knocks my knees apart and then he thrusts back in. No mercy. I can only hold on for dear life, my hands scrabbling at the comforter. I feel it when he gets closer. His thrusts get deeper, something I didn’t think was possible, and his breathing more deliberate. He pushes himself all the way inside, stretching me, and then stops.
“I want to feel you around me. You’re going to come for me.” He slips one hand between the bed and my body and presses his fingertips to my clit, tracing circles there that start with a pressure so light I can’t imagine it will have any effect, but with each trip around it builds, and builds, and I am trapped. I can’t get away from his cock and I don’t want to. I reach blindly behind me until I find his other wrist, then press his hand to my throat. He groans his pleasure at that, his grip confident as he works me into an orgasm so strong it verges on pain. He does not let me escape it. In fact, he coaxes another one for me, his cock jumping inside of me, and it’s only when I’m completely spent that he puts his hands on my hips and holds me still as he rides out his own release.
I don’t know how we get to the bed, only that we do. I can’t catch my breath. Roman curls his body behind mine, our heads on the same pillow, and says things to me in a low voice. I don’t catch the words, but his tone is soothing, validating, approving, and I wish I could bottle it up and keep it forever. I wish I could keep him forever.
He undoes the pins in my hair and works it free. I could cry at the release of this tension, which I didn’t realize I was still holding, and he works the knots out of my hair with his fingers. I lose myself in his careful, gentle strokes. His voice fades in. “—most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he’s saying. “You’re perfection. Utter perfection.”
For the first time in my life, I drift into an easy sleep knowing that nothing can go wrong.
20
Roman
Jenny digs her fingernails into the backs of my shoulders, and my awareness is so sharpened by the sensation of fucking her up against the wall that I can feel all ten crescents stinging into my flesh. In some other context it would hurt, but in this one it only makes my drive intensify. My balls tighten and my cock expands. Jenny feels it. I know from the low half-moan in the back of her throat that she feels it, and it makes a fucking virtuous circle when she holds on tighter. She drops her head forward so that her lips are level with my ear and whispers, “I love it when you fuck me like this, like you’re an animal, like you’ll never stop...” She’s still whispering when I come, every muscle tensing from my calves to my biceps.
It’s exquisite, as far as fucking her like an animal goes.
I haven’t been this in my body in years. Maybe forever. It means I feel everything. The rough concrete under my feet. Her taut ass, driven down by the weight of her body into my arms. The slight burn in my biceps from keeping them locked into position. The spray of the waterfall on the back of my neck.
The waterfall...
The rush and crash of it registers again as Jenny presses back, creating space between us so she can set her feet back on the ground. As soon as she does, she laughs, pure joy echoing in the pocket of space carved out from behind the waterfall. She bends forward, the curve of her back graceful even as she rearranges her bikini bottom. This time, it happened so fast and furious that I didn’t bother taking it off, only shoved it aside. That made her wet.
“You’re too sexy,” she tells me with a pout. “You know this is against the rules.”
Ah, yes. The rules. The rules we’ve been trying and failing to follow for the last seven days. The first rule is that we’re not supposed to fuck on Bliss property. My private home on the club side doesn’t count as Bliss property, but I’ll let you guess how many times we’ve made it there. Jenny has some serious qualms about using the hotel for sex, but then sometimes she looks at me from across my desk and frankly there is no time for anything else. In an infuriatingly hot twist, she’d rather get fucked in the janitor’s closet.
The second rule is that for every illicit fuck, we have to spend an hour talking. I think Jenny gets off on this as much as anything else. It’s how I know that her sister is still rattling around New York City, in and out of living arrangements that make Jenny’s eyes darken with worry. It’s how I know she hated her old job, and that’s why she took the risk on freelancing. It strikes me as brave and risky and living without a safety net, which is something I can only imagine.
She curls her fingers through mine. “I’ll see if anyone’s out there.” Jenny rises on tiptoe to kiss my jawline, her lips warm against the cool of my skin.
She’s right about one thing—this is Bliss property. The waterfall, pool, and grotto are manmade, commissioned by my dad when he bought the resort in the eighties. There’s a whole built-in cleaning system that makes it seem almost like a natural freshwater pool. The waterfall itself is on all our promotional materials. I’ve been thinking up ways to get more guests to enjoy it, but it’s a hike through our wooded property to where the actual river comes down over the bluff. The view is incredible, but most people get waylaid by the massive pool by the main building before they ever make it this far.
“No one’s out there, I promise you. It’s one in the morning.” This was supposed to be our “talking” portion of the day, but Jenny was restless and it’s a full moon. We’re mixing work and pleasure. I pull her close and press a kiss to her temple. There are low lights set near floor-level in case someone did show up here in the middle of the night, and in the glow I can see that she’s biting her lip. “Oh, I get it. You like a little danger. You want to get caught—” I scoop her up in my arms and run her straight through the waterfall and out onto the ledge by the pool. She gasps and sputters—the water’s brisk—and I shout into the night, “We’re here! Come see us. We were just fucking behind the waterfall—”
“Roman!” Jenny slaps at my arm, wriggling down out of my grasp and jumping into the pool. The pool is heated, though its cooler at night, and when she resurfaces it’s with a squeal. I jump in after her, naked. I don’t have a choice. I left my suit on one of the rock ledges by the pool, next to our towels.
Jenny climbs out, laughing, but as she looks out over the lake below us with the moon shining over the water, she gets quieter. I run both hands over my hair to squeeze out the water and kick over to the shallower end where the water is only up to my waist.
“That’s a hell of a view,” she says, just loud enough for me to hear over the waterfall. I have to agree, but the one I’m looking at is even better.
She pads to the rock ledge and pats herself down with the towel, then grabs the camera. “The moon is so bright,” she says while she adjusts the settings. “These could be some great shots for our socials. If you’d approve them.”
I know it’s not completely within bounds to let my feelings for her affect my business decisions, but what harm could this do? Jenny turns toward the lake and takes a few photos. Her dark hair shines in the moon, water still dripping down her back, and she’s so beautiful that I feel a pull toward her, as strong and steady as gravity.
No—it’s not only her beauty that makes me feel that way. It’s all of her. She’s a spitfire in the office and in bed, and I know without her having to tell me that she’s never been this open with another
person. I’m a lucky man to reap the benefits of all the painstaking work she’s done.
Now, if I only I could convince her that it doesn’t make it any less real.
We have time for that, I catch myself thinking, and my heart skips a beat. Do we have time for that? Or is Jenny going to take the experience she gets here this season and go back to her freelance career? Work isn’t her favorite thing to talk about. Her boss—former boss, as she was careful to correct herself the last time we spoke about it—was the epitome of a guy with no sense of right and wrong rising to the top of a company that cared more about profits at any cost.
“You know what? You can choose the photos from now on. Don’t bother with my approval.”
Jenny turns back toward the pool and raises the camera again. I can see her beaming behind it. “You got it, boss. Now look to the right,” she says, and I do it without thinking. “You look so introspective.”
It’s hard to look at her without smiling.
“Don’t do that,” she says. “The serious male model expression was working for me.”
I laugh out loud. “Can you even get any photos when it’s this dark?”
“Are you kidding? The moon makes it like broad daylight.” She takes a few more photos. “Now dip your head in the water and fling it back out.”
That doesn’t work at all, and it leaves both of us in a fit of laughter. When it’s over, a chill runs down my spine. Time to get out of the pool.
I wade to the side and climb out while Jenny takes another batch of photos. So many photos. She must have some real gold on her camera. Yet there I am, always steering her toward the conservative choice. Also, I don’t know where I left my swim trunks. They’re not on the bench where I thought they were.
Ah—they’re over by the side entrance to the cutout behind the waterfall. That’s where she yanked them down to my feet. It was nearly a different scene, with Jenny on her knees. We can come back to that later.
Crush On You Page 10
