His lips feel so soft on mine, his hands pulling me closer and closer as I kneel over him in the sand. I’m already fumbling with his clothes, and I can’t stop myself, even though I know I should.
Fucking Romeo will only make this harder on me. I break the kiss as his hand slides up my dress, every cell in my body straining towards him despite what comes out of my mouth.
“Wait,” I whisper desperately. His fingers are on my inner thigh, inching up towards my lacy thong that’s already soaked with my arousal. It feels impossible to even say that one word.
“We shouldn’t,” I manage somehow. “We’re supposed to pretend to be together, not really–this will just make working together harder–”
“Oh, I’m already fucking hard.” Romeo grins at me, grabbing my hand and pulling it to his impressive erection. “And I’m not asking you to be my girlfriend, Lydia,” he adds, laughing as he kisses down my neck. His fingers are working their way under my thong, his tongue tracing patterns on my skin, his cock straining between my thighs. I want it to spread me open and let me feel what it’s like to be filled by it, to ride him until we both come, until I forget the truth–which is that I am a trained Bratva soldier, not a sidepiece for him to fuck or a mysterious model for him to claim as his. This can’t happen like this. Not now.
Then why the fuck don’t I shove him off? Why the fuck does he make me feel so damn weak? I'm supposed to be cutting, cunning, careful. Not careless and obsessed with affection. These feelings are only temporary. I'm certain of that, but it doesn’t stop me from wanting him any less.
“I’m going to fuck you until you forget your own name and only scream mine,” Romeo whispers in my ear. Chills run across every inch of my skin as I feel fresh arousal coat my folds, my thong a drenched, useless mess at this point. I’m still pushing his shirt off, even though I’m screaming in my head that I can’t do this, and his fingers are toying with the lace–until he’s not toying anymore.
He grabs the back of my head with his other hand, kissing me hotly, and as he does, he pushes two fingers inside of me, curling them as he hits the spot that makes my back arch and my hips grind down onto his hand. The sand chafes against my knees, and the tide rushes up to my toes as the waves come in, but as far as I’m concerned, it could drown us right now for all I care.
All I want is for Romeo to make me come, and I know he’s going to.
My body tenses as the pleasure builds, and Romeo breaks the kiss, his hand fisted in my hair as his green gaze holds mine, as if he wants to watch me come apart on his fingers. I’m riding his hand now, grinding my clit into his thumb, my lips parted as I pant and moan, and all I want is an orgasm.
“Come.”
One word, and I shatter. I scream, my back arching as I writhe impaled on his hand, and he shoves his fingers deeper inside of me, watching me with that heated, lustful gaze as he gets what he wants–my orgasm–for the first time. I come all over his hand, drenching his fingers, and I don’t feel an ounce of shame. For the first time in my sexual life, I’m taking something for my own pleasure, and I’m not going to let myself regret it.
Romeo grins, and before I know it, I’m on my back in the sand as he pushes my skirt up, yanking his fingers out of me only to push my thighs wide and dive between them. I don’t get a chance to protest before his tongue is on my clit, but it doesn’t matter. I wouldn’t have stopped him. I’m still pulsing and fluttering from the first orgasm, and now he’s pushing me towards a second, my entire body on fire like I’ve been doused in gasoline.
No one has ever eaten me out like this. I’d dreamed of Kias doing it, but now there’s not a thought of him in my head. There’s only Romeo’s full lips sucking my clit into his mouth, his two fingers pushing inside of me again as my thighs tighten around his head, driving me towards another climax that’s going to be even more intense than the first. Every flick of his tongue and movement of his fingers is like magic, and I’m pretty sure I’m floating or falling or both. I don’t know what is up and down.
I’m going to come again. I can’t stop it. He clamps one hand over my mouth as the models start to move towards the beach, towards our hiding spot by the rocks, but he doesn’t stop. He keeps sucking my clit, rolling it with his tongue, thrusting his fingers inside of me. My legs tighten over his shoulders as he laps his tongue against me, and I lose every sense of who, where, or what I am.
I want to beg him to never stop. It’s the best orgasm of my life, the best thing I’ve ever felt, and I bite his palm, scream against it as I squeeze his head so tightly with my thighs I’m surprised he doesn’t yelp with pain–but he just keeps licking, sucking, my back arching as I scream into his hand with a throat that feels raw. As I come back down, I realize he’s still licking, lapping up my cum, and pleasure ripples through my body in a tiny aftershock of an orgasm.
He comes up for air, stretching over me and grinding into me, so fucking hard that I can’t wait to feel him inside of me any longer. I taste his lips, sweet and soft with my warmth, and I’m turned on again. I rub my hand over his cock, reaching for his zipper, and he moans into my mouth, grabbing my breast and running his thumb over my hard nipple through its silky fabric.
“Lydia, are you—” Ainsley's voice tears us apart so quickly I nearly hit my head on the rock wall. “Oh.” She jumps back behind the curvature of the rocks. “S-sorry.”
“We were just—”
Romeo cuts me off to finish. “Talking. We were just talking, Ainsley.”
She peeps her head back around the corner to see us a mile apart, looking between us suspiciously.
“It’d be okay if you were…” She waits for a reply, but I can’t bring myself to try to explain anything. Inside, the shame is beginning to set in. I’m embarrassed that I let myself get to such a compromising position that I would have done anything to have more of what I promised myself I would not permit.I must not have sex with Romeo San Giovanni. It will ruin absolutely everything, and I’ll never get what I’ve worked so hard for. A fleeting moment of temporary satisfaction is not worth the compromise.
“Actually, I’m going to go upstairs. I’m feeling sick, and I think it may have been the caviar at breakfast.” I excuse myself from the awkward tension and head back down the beach to the staircase. Workers are deconstructing the stage, and the group has dispersed to other areas, some on the beach, and I assume others are somewhere exploring the grounds.
I’m thankful that no one says a word to me as I head up the steps, feeling angry at myself and an inkling of resentment for Romeo. It’s not his fault, I know. I know he isn’t entirely to blame for my lapse in judgment— major lapse in judgment. But I'd be lying if I said he wasn’t a major factor in letting my guard down.
I should be the one makinghimlethisguard down and divulge his life tome, so I have something to report to Kias tomorrow. If I don’t, I’m screwed, and not in the good way. I touch my lips.Fuck, Romeo really knows what he’s doing. I feel my eyes well with tears for no apparent reason. I decide it’s the wind. Has to be the wind because I don’t cry. Not intentionally, anyway.
I cross through the back door by the garden and head through the corridor, up the steps, and down a couple of long hallways to make it to my room. It's cold and quiet when I arrive, and I need to think, so this isn’t the worst scenario. A patch of sun stretched across the floor from the towering window on the back wall. I go to it, lay down on the warm carpet like a cat, and close my eyes for a moment.
How am I supposed to get Romeo to open up if I literally can’t get him to do anything but seduce me? I fill my stomach with air and blow it out through the O of my lips.Think, Kira. You are the best operative in whole fucking Bratva. Think.
My eyes fly open when I hear the buzz of my phone vibrating across the floor. I remember I left it on the charger by one of my dressers, and I tilt my head toward it. I bet it’s Romeo. Bet he’s trying to see if I want to run lines. I haven’t even looked at the stupid script, and I’ve already seen— and felt— his lips moving far too much today. But I can’t get out of this so easily. He believes I’m a model and I can’t take a big job, like opening for Miu Miu, so lightly.
My phone buzzes again, and I feel an idea beginning to brim in the recesses of my mind. Before it can tip over the edge, flooding my thoughts with a plan, the bathroom door swings open, and Romeo stands frozen in the doorframe. I see him from my peripherals, but I refuse to speak to him. Instead, I tilt my head back to the window and look out at the fluffy clouds rolling in from the west.
His feet pat across the floor until he’s next to me, then he drops beside me, laying parallel, shoulder to mine. He turns his head to me, a soft smile as he pokes my arm with his tattooed finger.