by Ivy Fox
“Rome!” It’s a prayer and a curse, but it’s the name that comes out when I reach my climax.
My soul shreds into thin pieces, small enough to fit the eye of a needle, only to have Rome lovingly sew the ripped-up fabric back together again when I hear him utter my name as he comes apart.
Our chests rise and fall in unison, completely eviscerated, and basking in the afterglow of our lovemaking. His fingers wrap their way into my hair, lavishing it with the same gentle tenderness I’m starting to become spoiled with. But as we lie, catching our breath, a heavy, silent pause ensues between us, and trepidation tells me that Rome is going to share some more honesty with me. However, this time I’m reluctant to let him say a word. I feel too exposed right now to be able to mask what I’m truly feeling, and his sincerity might bring all my defenses down with just one knock to its walls.
“You said you had plans, so out with it. What do you want to do next?” I ask, my cheek pressed to his chest so he doesn’t see my face while he continues to fondle my hair.
He lets out a small chuckle, and my shoulders relax instantly, knowing he’s going to keep whatever heartfelt proclamation he intended to reveal hidden away for a little while longer.
I trace the tribal scripture tattooed on his chest, hating the way he branded himself so villainously. While the Latin phrase imprinted on his forearm, which reads ‘Viam inveniam aut faciam,’ may be just as self-debasing—since I haven’t had time to Google its meaning—it’s the bold black letters on his chest that worry me the most. The carefully designed lettering with the word ‘Soulless’ is carved exactly where his heart beats, making me wonder what could have made him engrave such a sacrilege word onto his skin.
Rome might come off as brash, rude, and unfeeling, but one thing these past few months have shown me is that it’s all a clever facade to keep people at arm’s length. Rome is not soulless at all. He cares more deeply and is the epitome of devotion. He would renounce all joy if it would mean the ones he cared about wouldn’t feel an ounce of pain. The scripture should read selfless, not soulless.
“I was thinking we take a long hot shower first,” he explains, bringing me back to the here and now.
“Shower sounds good.” I smile, pressing my lips to the depressing tattoo. He continues to play with my hair as if he’d be content in only doing this simple thing for the remainder of the day. “But how about a bubble bath instead?”
“Nope.” I feel him shaking his head left to right. “Definitely a shower. I want to bend you over against a wall and fuck you raw from behind,” he affirms enthusiastically, making my own laugh ring out.
“Okay, and what next?”
“You haven’t let me eat you out yet, so that’s definitely on the menu for breakfast.” He continues listing his demands.
“I thought your ideas were different from mine. They kind of sound basically the same,” I tease.
“No, no. After I’ve dirtied you up, then I’ll clean you again so we can go out.”
“Out?” I scrounge my brows together, lifting my chin to sit in the middle of his chest so I can look at him.
“Yeah, out. You’re a New Yorker now, but you haven’t seen or experienced this city the way you should have. Not once.”
“So you’re going to take me sightseeing, is that it?” I ask unconvinced.
“No. I want to show you my home. Who knows? Maybe one day you’ll see it as your home, too,” he says wistfully, nudging the tip of my nose with his knuckle.
The thought he put behind how we should spend our time together melts me into soft, chewy goo. Before I let it contaminate my whole heart, I plop my back on the bed, tilting my head to him with a devilish look on my face.
“Well, if we have such a big day ahead of us, I think breakfast just moved up on your list.”
His naughty smile splits his face in two, and as he lowers to start his feast, I fear I’m the one biting off more than I can chew.
Chapter 14
Roman
I hear a vaguely familiar grunt, and I follow its sound. I walk silently into Avó’s quarters, careful to not make too much noise, so I don’t wake anybody up. I hear a muffled cry, and I wonder if she’s having a bad dream. If she is, then it’s a good thing I came down here when I did. I can protect her against nightmares, just like she and Mommy do for me when I have them.
I know she won’t mind me coming to this part of the house. Sometimes when Mommy sleeps with the twins, I come to Avó’s room and play with her rosaries until I get blurry-eyed and fall asleep. She always gives me her side of the bed and lets me ramble on about my day until I tire myself out.
But when her granddaughter, Carmen, arrived a few months ago, Lawrence forbade me to come down here anymore. He told me my place was upstairs, not down here with the help. I didn’t like it how he said that word. Avó is family, not the help, and now Carmenita is our family, too.
Lawrence used to be friends with Avó. I think maybe they were even boyfriend and girlfriend. But all that changed when Carmen arrived. I don’t think he likes her living with us. I’m not sure why, but I heard him tell Avó that young, teenage girls shouldn’t work here and that she was doing a bad thing in keeping Carmen here with us. He was being a big meanie, making Avó cry, since Carmen had no more family but Avó now.
A few months ago, Avó got very sad because her little girl had to go to heaven. I’d be sad, too, if I lost someone I loved the way Avó loved her baby girl. But when Carmen arrived, Avó wasn’t sad anymore, and Lawrence telling her she had to leave was just so mean of him. I usually like Lawrence, since he’s nice to Mom, but the day he made Avó cry, I stopped liking him as much.
Grunt.
Grunt.
The odd sound starts to make me cringe, and a voice sounding like Mommy’s tells me to turn back. I look behind me to see if she’s there, but she’s not. Of course she’s not. I saw her fast asleep cradling the twins beside her on Ash’s bed. But the voice keeps telling me I shouldn’t be here, and as much as I try to shake it off, the shiver down my spine tells me to pay attention to it.
I know Mommy won’t mind me being down here, but my father will. He doesn’t like how I’m always lurking in the shadows of the house at night. He hates it. He hates me. But I don’t like to sleep by myself. I’m always afraid of what can happen when my eyes are closed. Some dreams scare me. They feel too real to be dreams, even though Mommy says they are.
When my baby sister gets here, I’ll sleep in her room. She won’t be able to tell anyone I’m there. Mommy told us that little Elle would be here soon, and I can’t wait until she comes home. Mommy says that since I’m almost five, I’m strong enough to hold my sister. When the twins were babies, I was too young to do it, but I’m a big boy now.
I know that Ollie and Ash want to hold little Elle, too, so I told Mommy that I’d help them, making sure she doesn’t fall from their tiny hands. That would make them happy. Mommy smiled at me when I said that. I don’t know why, though.
The minute I hear another stifled cry, followed by an all-too-familiar echo, I freeze in place, rooted to the rug in the dark hallway.
Slap.
Slap.
Thump.
Panic rises within me, telling me to run as far as I can from the sound. It reminds me of tears. Of my mommy on her knees with her nightgown, stained with blood. The image in my mind scares me just as much as the sound coming from down the hall.
So I run. I run as far as I can from the awful noise until my face finds cool, moonlit air up on our terrace. I sit there listening to cars passing by, honking, and all the other dull sounds of the busy city life until they erase the ones that continue to haunt me.
I wake up drenched in my own panicked sweat, the dream already a hazy mess. However, I try to keep it at the forefront of my mind as best I can. It’s important. I know it is.
“Rome.” My girl yawns, trying to wipe the sleep out of her eyes.
Holland.
Snow.
My little liar.
So pure, and good, and everything that makes me believe my wretched life could still have some use to it, some meaning—some joy to warm my cold bones. She’s who I need. She’s all I’ll ever need.
“Was it another nightmare, baby?” she hushes drowsily, obviously still clutching to the fray ribbons of sleep.
Having locked ourselves up in her room for the past week, she’s grown accustomed to my restless sleep. But it’s her term of endearment that melts the panic away, thawing my heart until it’s a puddle of need.
“Come here, little liar,” I whisper, pulling her hips to me as I cradle her warmth from behind. “I need you,” I confess sincerely, and her body—always so pliant, always so soft—yields to my will.
“You have me,” she murmurs, tilting her head to the side, just far enough for me to kiss her cupid-bow lips. I get lost in her luscious mouth, never getting enough of her sweetness on my tongue.
I cradle her body until her ass is nestled against me, as I begin to pepper her neck with gentle butterfly kisses, careful not to stir her too much and disturb her blissful cocoon. My hand trails down from her tempting breast to cup her wet pussy, grateful for being already so eager for me to own it.
“I’m going to take you slow, little liar,” I tell her as my cock dives into her warmth, her walls clenching divinely around me.
“Fuck,” I moan out at the same time she lets out a sigh.
Please, God. If you ever take me, take me when I’m this happy. This whole.
I begin to slowly dive into her hot core, keeping my tongue and teeth always on her silky skin.
“Rome,” she calls out softly, and my eyes slam shut, committing to memory the way she moans my name when I’m buried inside her, and storing it away in the small confines of my unworthy heart.
My Snow prefers it when I take her hard and fast. She likes it when I don’t treat her like fragile glass, so easy to break and shatter. But right now, my worship needs to take a slower pace. I want to get lost in her and show her how she’s saved me, even when I thought I was beyond saving. With her doe-like eyes, sharp tongue, and devious kiss, she returned the soul that no longer dwelled inside of me to its rightful place.
She lets out a soft wail as I hit her inner walls, and even though I need this to be slow and sweet, I know it’s also going to be damn fucking fast. Because being inside her is like being welcomed home—one I never want to leave. I thrust inside her three more times, making sure I feel her orgasm hit her, and hear the soft wail of ecstasy rip from her throat. The minute she cums, I rut deep inside her, cumming so hard that I go blind for a minute.
She purrs in contentment, turning to face me, lifting her head just a tad so she can press one tender, soul-shattering kiss to my lips. She then falls onto the pillow, cradling her head in the crook of my neck, falling blissfully back to sleep.
Insomnia has never been my friend until this very minute. I want to stay awake for as long as I can, just so I can keep her in my arms for a little while longer, memorizing this fleeting moment forever. My chest tightens as much as my hold on her.
I can’t have her. I can’t keep her. Soon this will all go away.
Three little words are lodged in my throat, burning to get out. I squeeze her to me, and her gentle breathing lets me know slumber has its tight grip on her, too. My bravery only comes out now, knowing she will never remember my heartfelt confession.
“I love you, little liar. So fucking much,” I hush out, the words feeling like a death sentence to me.
And they are.
She’s not mine to love. But, God help me, I do.
And I doubt I will ever stop.
“Fuck, baby. What are you doing?” I croak, my fingers tightening their hold on her head as she sucks my cock into oblivion.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” she teases me, dragging her tongue over the small slit crowning my cock, making me see stars above her head.
“It looks like you want me to fuck you before I’m even awake,” I joke, but then let out a loud roar when she slides her mouth back down on me. Her lips start creating the perfect pressure to harden my shaft to epic proportions, while her hands cradle my balls with a feather-light touch, making my eyes roll to the back of my head. I’m utterly pussy-whipped by the girl on her knees.
“It’s only fair since you did the same to me last night.” She beams brightly at me before I feel her teeth lightly scrape the sensitive, throbbing vein alongside my dick, forcing a tidal wave of curse words to leave my mouth.
She’s relishing the control of having me at her mercy, and even though my fingers are already clutching her hair and can easily manipulate her every move, I let her have at me. I’ll gladly let her go as far as she’s willing to.
I know my cock can be intimidating, almost as much as I can be. It’s a big fucker, looks mean and angry, and always wants to be the one running the show. After all, it’s my cock—the truest reflection of the asshole that I am. But with Holland—with Snow—it submits to her completely, knowing she will always give him what he most desires, what he craves.
I’m getting sucked off by the woman I’m in love with, and yet I’m jealous of the attention she’s giving my cock. I roll my eyes at how screwed up I’ve become—so enamored with the gray-eyed girl that I can’t even get a fucking blowjob without my heart getting in the way.
I quickly shrug that shit off when I feel the head of my cock push past the back of her throat and hit her vocal cords. I curse again, only for her to swallow me down harder, all the blood in my body now pooling south, anxious for her to continue doing her worst. I watch my ten inches being swallowed whole into her succulent mouth, knowing that I’m seconds away from cumming.
“Shit, baby. I’m going to cum,” I warn her, trying to give her enough time to unlatch those perfect lips from my shaft, allowing me to cum somewhere other than her mouth. Otherwise, I’ll be marking her, branding her as mine.
I count to three, hopeful my aim is true and good, so I can perhaps explode between those gorgeous tits of hers. But she never relents, hollowing her lips around me even more intensely, making my restraint that much more unbearable.
“Snow,” I growl, warning her to move, but the little vixen just raises her head high enough to throw me a conspiring wink. And who would’ve guessed? The little, flirtatious, unapologetic act of hers has me cumming like a prepubescent who just found his first porn site.
I’m boneless and limp beyond recognition. She begins to climb my body like a tree, her mouth now clamoring for my lips’ attention. I let her have it, rolling her over and kissing her like it will be the last time I get the honor to do so. I put everything I have into this one passionate kiss, feeling her wrap her legs around me, begging me to make the ache in her cunt go away.
“Round two?” I tease, sliding my tongue down from her chin to her neck, only to stop when I find one plump breast greeting me.
“Are you even ready for a second round?” she asks, breathless after just one kiss. She then lets out a lustful sigh upon feeling my hard cock, willing and able, already at her entrance.
“For you, little liar? I’m always ready,” I taunt back at her, even though my words are the gospel’s truth. I don’t think I could ever get enough of her. My cock, as well as my heart, are hers to use and abuse. She just doesn’t know it yet.
I drive myself home, thanking every deity out there for this one moment. Her head falls back, words of praise leaving her beautiful mouth as I thrust inside her just the way she likes it—hard and unforgiving. Her nails cling to my shoulders, leaving gorgeous, half-crested moons that I wish I could keep forever; like a small tattoo of her love on my flesh, the same way I have one already branded on my soul.
“Rome,” she bellows, her white-blonde, silky hair falling to her face, robbing me of the sight I need to engrave inside me. I wipe the errant strands away from her glorious face, her brows pulle
d together in lust, her cheeks donning a perfect crimson hue, as the beads of glistening sweat trickle down to her neck. “Rome.” She shudders again, so close to falling off her cliff and back into my arms.
“That’s it, little liar. Cum shouting my name,” I growl, falling down to her chest, biting one sensitive, aroused nipple and gaining the wail of elation I wanted, which has me following her in record time.
It takes us forever and a minute to gather our bearings, both too wrapped up in each other to want to let go of its afterglow.
With my cock still inside her, I turn on my side, bringing her limp, satisfied body along with me. We rest our heads on the pillow and silently stare into each other’s eyes. No words are needed to know what the other is feeling—love.
“Hi,” I finally say, leaning in to steal one more kiss.
“Hi, yourself.” She smiles brightly, unable to conceal how happy she is.
Given the chance, I’d die to keep this smile always on her beautiful, angelic face.
“Thank you,” I tell her, instead of what is really plaguing my heart.
“For what?” She cocks a brow, her playful simper still in place.
“For making this week bearable,” I add.
For making my life bearable.
“You’re welcome?” She scrunches her brows, her little nose doing a suspicious dance. So fucking cute, this one. I let out a chuckle, and tap my finger on that cute, button nose of hers.
“That didn’t come out right. What I meant to say is that I haven’t been happy around Thanksgiving for a long time. This year you changed that,” I admit, omitting the fact that I haven’t been happy for as long as I can remember. She changed that, in ways she can never fathom.
“Are you saying I made you happy?” she teases, provoking me into telling her the truth.
“Would you believe me if I said yes?” I bravely confess, real emotion starting to crawl up my throat, threatening to tell her anything she wants to know. But my little liar isn’t ready for all my honesty, so instead, she leans into me, placing her head next to my drumming heartbeat that only ticks for her.
