Roman: A Raleigh Raptor Novel

by Whiskey, Samantha

  And great-god-of-orgasms he had skills.

  I grazed my hands over my still-sensitive flesh, almost feeling the spots he’d touched me like he’d left a permanent brand.

  For the past three years, I’d felt like my sexuality was a service. A duty. A chore. Something I did for fear of punishment or reprimand. And with my figure? I was lucky Rick had loved me. It was a privilege to be loved the way he’d loved me.

  Anger bubbled at the lies he’d shoved down my throat for years. At the constant, daily jabs that I hadn’t been smart enough to see what they were doing to me. To my confidence. To my soul.

  Roman had spent days, months, hours trying to chase away the darkness that splattered over my soul like blots of ink.

  And I needed to show him how much he meant to me.

  A white-hot thrill raced down my spine at the thought, and before I could get in my own way, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and padded barefoot to the shower.

  The warmth from the steam clouding the room hit my bare skin, and my lips parted on a gasp at the sight of Roman beneath the running water.

  His back muscles rippled as he lathered his hair, his smooth dark skin tight and dripping wet. God, just the sight of him made me wet.

  I swallowed any apprehension threatening to creep up and yank my ass back to bed and reached for the glass door. I stepped inside, shutting it behind me, the shower big enough for me not to brush against him upon entry.

  Roman turned around at the sound of the door closing, his eyes hooded as he looked me over, a hungry sort of need churning there. Right behind that need, there was something else, something deeper, something more. And from the way my heart expanded to fill my chest so much I could barely breathe around it, I was certain that look reflected in my eyes, too.

  I reached for him, lightly trailing my fingertips over his chest, relishing the hard feel of his muscles.

  “How are you this perfect?” I whispered, taking my time to explore his body under the stream of hot water.

  Roman slid his fingers over my hips, gently pulling me to him, soaking us both as he brought our bodies flush. “You’re perfection, Teagan,” he said, his voice raspy. He grabbed my ass with both hands, jerking me tighter against him. “Fucking, delectable.”

  Warm shivers danced in my core at the feel of all his hard edges against my softer ones. I walked my fingers up his chest before sliding them around his neck, rising on my tiptoes so I could brush a light kiss over his lips. A tease, one that probably hurt me more than him with the way I ached.

  But I was in no rush.

  Quite possibly because I never wanted this moment to end.

  Never wanted to lose this absolutely incredible feeling.

  Happiness. Desire. Need.

  They all swirled inside me until I was a coiled spring of want.

  I grazed his bottom lip with my tongue, and he opened for me, letting me take what I wanted and giving me everything I needed in return. His fingers tunneled through my wet hair, tilting my head so he could kiss me at a deeper angle, his tongue doing everything to fill my head with that delightful buzz no drink or drug could ever compare to.

  I jerked my lips back, sucking in a sharp breath as I locked eyes with him as the realization of that thought process hit me.

  I’d gotten a taste of Roman, and now I was thoroughly, helplessly addicted.

  “I want to do this,” I said. “With you. For real.” The words came out a little breathless.

  “This is as real as it gets, T,” he said, grinning as he motioned to all his gloriousness.

  I laughed, half-drunk with the emotions storming me. “I want to be yours,” I clarified. “And you mine. Exclusively.”

  A soft, endearing smile shaped his gorgeous lips, and he tugged me harder against him. “I’m yours,” he said. “My heart has always belonged to you.”

  I beamed. “We’re together?”

  A slow, sweet nod. “If that’s what you want,” he said. “If you’re ready for that.”

  I nodded back, my eyes glazing with a hungry need.

  Roman tilted his head at the look, and I flashed him a smirk, digging my fingers into his shoulders to guide him to the built-in marble bench. I quickly adjusted the water to ensure we stayed warm, and then I sank to my knees before him, careful not to slide all over the place.

  He arched a dark brow, tracking my movements with an excited gleam to his eyes.

  I smoothed my hands over his massive, muscular thighs, lightly scraping my nails over his skin as I worked my way to his considerable, hard length. My hands, slick with the warm water, slipped and slid over his cock with an ease that had him hissing as he arched into my touch. I tightened my grip, pumping and spiraling around him until he growled from the tease. I smiled up at him before lowering my head, dipping my mouth over the smooth head of his cock.

  “Goddamn,” Roman gasped as I took him deeper into my mouth.

  Goddamn was right. The man filled my mouth, his taste of warmth and salt dominating my senses until I couldn’t think around the feel of him between my lips. I moaned around him, relishing the way he arched against the vibrations, his hands gently gripping my hair a bit harder each time I pulled back before diving right back in. I switched my pace between hard and fast to slow and agonizing, losing myself in the way his breathing hitched, his muscles tensed.

  For me.

  The man was on the brink of explosion because of what I was doing to him.

  I’d never felt more desirable, more sexy, or more appreciated in my entire life.

  “Teagan,” Roman growled, and I drew back enough to look up at him, his hard cock slipping from my lips with a satisfying little popping sound.

  “Roman?” I whispered before trailing the tip of my tongue around the tip as I pumped him.

  “Get that beautiful ass up here.”

  “Or what?” I teased, tightening my grip.

  Another growl rumbled from his chest, and I didn’t need the shower water to tell me I was completely, utterly liquid for the man.

  “Or I’m going to come in your mouth if you keep doing that thing with your tongue.”

  A thrill flared in my chest at the gravel in his voice, the edge of desperation. My breath hitched, the knowledge that he wanted me as badly as I wanted him doing things to my body.

  I gave his cock another pass with my tongue, just because I could, then I rose to straddle him. The beads of hot water hit my back, the sensation sizzling as I felt Roman’s hard length slip between my thighs.

  Nose to nose, I wrapped my arms around his neck, my nipples grazing his hard chest as he gripped my hips and tucked me closer.

  I gasped at the slickness between us—his hard cock teasing my slit in the most deliciously agonizing way.

  “Is this how you want me?” I said, my voice trembling slightly as we continued to tease each other.

  Roman stilled beneath me and tugged on my hair to gain my full attention. “I want you every way, Teagan.” He slanted his mouth over mine, fucking my mouth with his tongue before drawing back to catch my gaze again. “I’ve had years to think about all the ways I want you.”

  My insides tangled with need at his words, at the unspoken truth in them.

  I rocked my hips over his hard length, my body trembling as his head grazed my clit. The warm water rained down atop us, sliding over our skin and making it slick.

  “Roman,” I sighed his name, unable to put words to all I felt at that moment.

  So I showed him instead.

  I kissed him, claiming his mouth as he had mine earlier, relishing the feel of his tongue against mine as I continued to rock above him. I teased and tasted until we were both shaking with need. Until I couldn’t breathe from wanting him inside me.

  “Fuck,” Roman growled as I took him in, inch by glorious inch until I’d fully sank atop him.

  “Goddamn,” I mimicked his earlier word as I lifted and sank atop him again.

  And again.

  Slow, smooth
strokes that allowed me to feel every delicious inch of him.

  Torture, agonizing, beautiful, mind-splintering torture. That’s what making love to Roman Padilla felt like.

  Like the most brutal need paired with the most satisfying edge.

  A rainstorm with the power to cleanse my soul.

  An unbreakable bridge where we met in the middle.

  “Fucking beautiful,” he growled, holding onto my hips as he let me take control.

  “God, Roman,” I moaned, upping my pace. I flicked my tongue over his lips before throwing my head back, gasping for breath. “You feel so good.”

  The warm water drenched us, my body a sizzling live-wire of electricity on the brink of explosion.

  Roman held onto me with one hand, freeing his other to trail his fingers over my body. Teasing my breasts, my abdomen, and lower until he found my clit.

  I gasped, drawing my head back, our eyes locking as his fingers rolled and pinched and pressed until I was rocking atop him with abandon. Gone was my slow and steady pace, replaced solely with the undiluted need to fly over the edge with him.

  Together.

  “Come with me,” I begged, arching into that hand, feeling him harden to another degree inside me. “Roman,” I gasped. “Please.”

  Roman flashed me a smirk as I pressed my forehead against his, my fingers digging into his shoulders as I rocked against him faster and faster. My breaths ragged, my body tightening so much I was certain I’d break right there above him.

  He met my movements with thrusts of his own, hitting that spot deep inside me that I didn’t know existed before he laid claim to it. All the while his damn fingers expertly played between my thighs, sending me closer and closer to that sweet edge.

  “There she is,” he said, his eyes on mine. “Say it, Teagan.”

  I trembled, a crescendo of tension spiraling down my core. “I’m coming!”

  “Again.” He thrust upward, driving me over the edge.

  “I’m coming!” I gasped, gripping his shoulders like I might fly off the planet if I didn’t hold on. “Roman. Fuck.” Stars glittered on the edge of my vision as I shattered into a thousand pieces around him. My body trembled against him, my heat clenching his hard-as-granite length like a vise.

  “God, yes,” Roman hissed, finding his own release inside me, the feel of which sent the sweetest aftershocks to each of my nerve endings.

  My breath was ragged as I went limp against him, the warm water raising chills on my sensitive flesh.

  “Roman…” I said when I’d caught my breath. “I have no words.” I pressed my lips against his, kissing him slowly, sweetly, a thank you for sending me into fucking orbit.

  He smiled up at me, shifting us until we were standing again and directly beneath the stream of water. “And you don’t need any,” he said, sliding his hands over my body and between my thighs. “I’m here. I’m right here with you,” he said, accentuating his words with those sweet, gentle strokes.

  That quickly, I wanted him again.

  I bit my lip, wondering if it would be too much to ask for more when he’d already given me so much.

  Another smirk shaped his lips as he read the intent in my eyes.

  He shut off the water and wrapped me in a towel. I’d barely dried off before he’d scooped me up and rushed me back to his bed.

  Where he proceeded to blow my mind.

  Two more times.

  Several hours later, with Roman peacefully, deeply asleep next to me, I quietly crawled out of bed.

  My body was a loose, satisfied thing, but my mind? It was racing.

  And not with the haunting memories of my past or the unanswered questions of my future…

  But with color.

  And images.

  Burst after burst of that raw creative spark I’d been missing for months now.

  I padded barefoot to the art studio Roman had so graciously given me, and painted.

  Sure, I’d painted a few weeks ago, but it was a commissioned piece. This…this was an unleashing. This was a release of all the light and color I’d buried deep inside me due to the fear of ridicule. Due to that voice in my head, Rick’s voice, telling me I wasn’t good enough to make it as a real artist, but it was a cute hobby he didn’t mind supporting.

  This was my resurfacing.

  Emotions poured out of me with the brush in my hand. I painted how it felt to be touched by Roman, a slew of gentle and teasing pink tones.

  I painted how his tongue felt sliding deep inside me, all fiery reds and rushing oranges.

  I painted how it felt when he’d slid home the first time, the most brilliant shade of gold. Of happiness.

  After losing myself in the art, in the sensation of truly being happy for the first time in as long as I could remember, I felt like myself again. I’d worked tirelessly to find that girl I used to be, for months now...but Roman...Roman had given me everything I needed to help rediscover who I’d always been. His selflessness, his compassion, his brilliant affection...all had helped me remember who I was. Who I’d always been.

  Someone strong and passionate and wild.

  Someone worth loving.

  And I had no idea how I was ever going to repay him for all he’d done...but I couldn’t stop the smile stretching my lips as I thought of all the ways I wanted to show my appreciation for him.

  11

  Roman

  The hotel bar was loud as hell, but we’d managed to carve out a somewhat quieter section toward the back. Nixon, Hendrix, and I held down a small table in the corner, and for once, not even Hendrix was drinking.

  We’d lost tonight, which always sucked, but it had an especially bitter tone considering we’d been favored to win, and it was Monday Night Football. But it had been one of those games where nothing went right, where passes turned into interceptions, and handoffs morphed into fumbles.

  Just to add to our spectacularly shitty day, bad weather had moved into Buffalo, and we were grounded until the morning, which meant I wouldn’t get to see Teagan tonight like I’d hoped. I’d only been gone two days, and I missed her like hell. Talk about going into withdrawals from an addiction. I was testy, distracted, and starved for her.

  I rotated my left shoulder and groaned. That shit was going to be sore for at least a couple days.

  “You take anything for that?” Nixon asked, breaking his post-game silence.

  “Ibuprofen. It’s fine.” It hurt like hell, but I wasn’t going to whine about it.

  Hendrix grimaced. “You think Baker missing that block has anything to do with Teagan’s Instagram post of you two all cuddled up at home?”

  I shrugged. We’d been together for about a week now, and we weren’t hiding it. I wasn’t hiring out a skywriter or anything but between Instagram and our mothers…well, everyone knew.

  “Incoming,” Nixon muttered as a trio of Barbie-looking women sauntered our way with predatory smiles.

  “Tough loss today,” the blonde said, giving Hendrix her best sympathy face as the brunette eyed me up.

  “It happens,” Hendrix shrugged.

  “Can we buy you guys a drink to soothe the pain?” the brunette asked, her eyes skimming all three of us.

  “No thanks,” I answered.

  “Not tonight,” Hendrix added, surprising the hell out of me.

  Nixon shook his head and flashed his ring.

  Damn, I wanted one of those. Not just to keep the gold diggers at bay, either. No, I wanted one that said I belonged to Teagan. My heart, my body, my name, fuck, she could have whatever she wanted. Was it way too fucking early to think like that? Absolutely, but it wasn’t like we’d just met last week.

  She’d been by my side for twenty-two years already. The fact that we were just now figuring out how good we were in bed together was the cherry on top.

  And it was one hell of a cherry.

  We were explosive together. Just thinking about how she felt under my hands, all wet and willing, was going to make it all sorts of aw
kward once I stood up if I couldn’t get my thoughts under control.

  The girls threw a pout, but moved on to the next table, which happened to be full of wide-eyed rookies.

  “Oh, fuck me,” Hendrix groaned under his breath.

  Rick Baker was headed this way.

  Both Nixon and Hendrix straightened on either side of me, but I didn’t move a muscle. When Teagan had posted that picture this morning, wishing me luck, I knew this moment was coming, and I was ready.

  I’d gone over every possibility for his reaction for the last week. Every act of retribution he could pull, from cursing me out in front of the team—which was on the low end—to anything he could do to publicly shame Teagan. I’d thought of a response to everything.

  His jaw popped as he leaned on the tall table, looking at me like he was planning the location to bury my body.

  Fucking bring it.

  Then he sighed. “So, you and Teagan, huh?” He asked almost…civilly.

  “Yep.” My stomach tightened, and my eyes narrowed.

  He nodded. “Figured it was bound to happen. It’s not like men and women can ever really be friends, right?” A corner of his mouth lifted.

  We’d been just that—friends—for more than two decades, but I wasn’t about to push that point when I’d spent almost every night this week buried inside her.

  I lifted my eyebrows, waiting for him to make his point because I had nothing more to say. I wasn’t about to ask his blessing, or even how he felt about my relationship with T. It was none of his damned business, and he’d been the one to fuck things up with her in the first place. He was lucky to be breathing.

  “Well, anyway.” He pushed off the table. “Good luck with that. See you on the plane.” He walked away, leaving us staring at each other with confused expressions.

  “Well that was anticlimactic,” Hendrix noted. “I fully expected him to demand pistols at dawn or some shit.”

  “Weird.” Out of every response I’d planned for—Baker’s immediate acceptance of our relationship hadn’t been one of them. Then again, I’d assumed he’d loved her as much as he’d professed for the last few years, too.