I rocked my hips and opened myself to him. He cupped my soaking wet pussy with his entire hand, and his one long middle finger slipped inside my hot slit. I gasped as he prodded my clit, drawing the pad across my sensitive bundle of nerves as if he was in control. As ifhewas the one in charge here.
At that point, it felt like neither of us was in control of the other. We were tumbling headlong down a steep hill directly towards danger, and we didn’t care. Neither one of us could stop the momentum that we’d started, and by the time we crashed into each other at the bottom, both of us would be bloodied and bruised if we tried to force it into any sort of direction.
“You like that?” he asked, and he released my arm. His hand moved up under my hair, and he wove his fingers in it again, pinning my head in place. “You like it when I touch you there, little sparrow?”
I groaned and nodded, loving the way he made me feel. My dislike of my fiancé combined with the betrayal of my body at his touch, and I was left with a cocktail of revulsion and animalistic need. I wanted to fuck him, I wanted to ride Alexander Remington’s cock, I wanted him to split me open and force his way into my quivering cunt.
But I hated him for everything he represented. My bondage to the ridiculous, outdated rules of being an Upper wife. The fact that I wasn’t able to see Luke or act on my desire for Rome, despite the fact that both of them had already gone farther than Alexander.
At least Luke had, but Rome was so familiar I couldn’t imagine it being any other way.
The point was that they were known to me, and Alexander was the interloper. He was the intruder and the one barrier to my freedom. He represented the prison that held me trapped and the life I didn’t want.
“I can feel how wet you are for me,” Alexander said, his mouth getting closer to mine. “I can feel your hot little pussy, my princess. Princess kitten.”
He slid his finger farther and found my entrance. He pushed inside, and I gasped as he curled it in a certain way, hitting something inside, like a button of pleasure.
“Fuck,” I hissed and clung to his biceps. His arms were muscled and bulged at his effort.
“You like that,” he said.
I nodded, and he grinned, an infuriatingly cocky grin that pissed me off.
“Yo, Alex, are we gonna get some hard stuff delivered?”
Rome’s voice traveled into the room before he stepped inside. As soon as he saw what we were doing, he stopped dead in his tracks and said, “Oh shit, never mind. We’ll talk when you’re done.”
He turned on his heel to leave, and on a whim, I called out to him, “Don’t go. Come here.”
He tensed up without turning around, and Alexander stared down at me, confusion and jealousy playing across his handsome features. Then his mouth curved into an arrogant smile, and he realized the trap I had him in.
If he sent Rome away now, he looked like a weak, jealous little man who didn’t have control of his fiancée. One who didn’t own the woman he was betrothed to marry.
So my plan worked. He said, “Yeah, Roman, get your ass over here.”
Rome’s shoulders relaxed, and he turned around, strode to us, and stood close. “What’s up?” he asked, his uncertainty leaving him tense and anxious.
“You should touch me,” I said, my eyes flitting to Alexander. “You should feel how much I want it.”
Rome flinched. His desire was naked on his face as he inhaled close to me. He seemed to drink in my scent, and his eyes half-closed, ecstasy painting his features.
“You smell so fucking good,” he said, ducking closer. “Like summer flowers and sweet sugary cinnamon.”
“I taste even better, don’t I, Alexander?”
I tugged his hand free of my panties and pulled it up to his mouth. He licked the finger that had just been nuzzled inside my folds and nodded without saying a word. His eyes blazed, and I could feel desire and anger radiate off him like heat from a fire.
I didn’t look away when I brought his hand to Rome’s mouth and let him suck my juices off Alexander’s middle finger.
Rome made a sound like he was wounded as if the taste of me off his friend’s flesh physically wounded him. Alexander dropped his hand to my shoulder, and Rome stared at it longingly.
“Would you like to taste me again?” I asked him, and he nodded, shifting as his discomfort grew. I glanced down, and although I could have told you exactly every detail of Rome’s fat cock, I’d never seen it before as far as I’d been told. But I could almost see the delicate veins through his pants as he shifted again, trying to find room for his massive hard-on.
“You’d better ask your friend,” I told Rome and leaned against Alexander. “He’s my fiancé. He owns this body as much as anybody can own another person.”
Flattery would get me what I wanted, and at that moment, I wanted Rome to touch me. To lick me and kiss my pussy with his beautiful, full lips.
I ached for it, the thing I’d never had and the thing I thought I’d felt a hundred times before when Alexander hadn’t been in my life or on my mind.