What the fuck did I do?
I got too drunk, and now I’m not thinking straight.
I want to fuck Romeo San Giovanni, and I think we’ve maybe both gone too far to stop. If I do this wrong, if I lose my head, it could mean the end of my mission. Of all my goals. The only way I’m getting out of this without needing to leave, without needing to call it quits, is to fuck Romeo San Giovanni better than he’s ever been fucked in his life. And I need to do it with my wits intact, scratch this itch I have for him, and walk away when this is all over.
I don’t know what a person like him has been exposed to, but I know he’s fucked countless women. And to be quite frank, I better be a recurring one, or else I won’t have anything to show for a lifetime of overachieving to make it this far. I’d be lying if I said this didn’t feel incredible. Probably better than I’ve ever had— definitely better than I’ve ever had. I just hope with every fiber of my being that the feeling’s mutual. My life depends on it.
He’s hard and throbbing in my hand, bigger than any man I’ve ever had, and I’m dying to taste him. I lower my lips to his swollen tip, running my tongue down the length of him and back up, and his lips part, his eyes fluttering shut as he groans with pleasure. I swirl my tongue around the tip, tasting his pre-cum, and I’m getting wetter by the second, too, wanting more. His pleasure just seems to drive mine higher.
I circle his tip with my lips like a cushion, sucking gently at first, then tightening my grip on him as I suck harder. His fingers are making knots in my hair, begging me to go deeper. Still, I resist, taking it so slowly, he may just finish in my mouth before I’ve even really given him the entire show. I like the feeling of being in control, and I won't relinquish it without a fight.
His touches make me succumb to his power, though, and I’m afraid of what I might do if he continues to keep this up. His other hand trails down my back as I suck down the length of him, letting him hit the back of my throat before I continue to steady that movement. Faster, I stroke him, pushing his tip to my cheek.
His moans are like applause, and I’m an addict for the attention. I continue to suck as hard as I can, until the back of my throat hurts, and I’m even more aroused. I feel him pulling on my shoulders, and I let him grab me, pull me onto his chest, and I pant into his mouth.
His hard wet cock is pressing against my inner thigh, and I want so badly to straddle him completely. Let him take me and never look back, but I don’t. I wait for him to move us because I’ve got that feeling I was talking about earlier. That feeling in my body that’s like a kitten— succumbing to his touch at all costs. But then, the moment this happens, I want to be in control again. I fight with that desire constantly, and it’s gotten me far, but I’m losing the strength.
“I want you,” I moan.
He trails his lower lip to mine as he shakes his head. He reaches down and begins to stroke himself with one hand as he cups my breast with the other.
“Then fuck me,” he whispers, and a breath of anticipation escapes from my lips. It’s the kind of breath that is only born from chills that rise from the most intense longing. I long for Romeo. Want him inside me in every way possible, want to fuck him and have him fuck me a million different ways until we pass out from exhaustion.
Our sticky skin is balmy with desire, proof that our lust for one another is unquenchable unless we take it by the horns and dominate its blatant disrespect for our plans. Well, my plans, at least.
It’s obvious from our fight earlier that he doesn’t want anything more than sex. He probably won’t talk to me right after, even after we do. Most guys open up a little after sex, but Romeo… I doubt it, honestly. This thought reminds me of the mental trail I was walking down earlier today before Romeo interrupted my thoughts to run lines.
Surely, everything worth knowing would be on his phone. I just need to find a way to get a hold of it, and hopefully, there will be information in it that I can utilize in my weekly report to Kias. If only I could move ourpartyto the bedroom, because I’m almost certain his phone is in there. On his nightstand or bed. After I fuck him so well that he passes out, I can search through it and make this a routine. Seduce, sex, sleep, search through his phone for anything Bratva can use to attack the San Giovannis.
I’m sure everything will be fine, and this won’t mean anything when it’s over. Passion often dries after the tap gets old. I’m positive about that. But then again, if it doesn’t, and I want more—
“Where are you?” I realize by his whisper that my plotting has completely pulled me out of the moment, and our naked bodies are simply holding one another. Why has he let this happen? I would have expected him to keep going, despite my indifference. I try to ignore the slight sense of satisfaction this brings me.
Shaking my head, I attempt to hide it, let my hair fall across my face that he barely lets cover me. He takes both his hands and tucks the hair behind my ears, tilting his head as he really looks into my eyes. It's like I’ve known this man forever. Like we understand each other in a language that’s purely chemical or something like that. The attraction between us is a tangible connection, and I don’t like anything that ties me to someone without my will.
I’ve lost too many people to be linked with Romeo. I used my index finger to trail his bottom lip, and his mouth parts slightly as he watches me do it. This feels too intimate like I shouldn’t be doing this to him. He’s not mine. Just a means to an end. The end being everything I’ve ever wanted. He isn’t anything to me— he can’t be.
“I’d like to see your bedroom,” I whisper and kiss his lips. His fingers twist into my hair on the back of my head, pressing me up against him as he raises us up, carrying me across the bathroom and straight for his room. My body prepares me, pussy wet with anticipation to have him inside me at long last.This is for work. This is for work. This is for work.
I’m looping that singular reminder in my head because it’s all I have left to remind myself that this isn’t real. I’m not fucking him for anything but the simple step I need to take to get what I want. The immense pleasure he gives me is a bonus.
My back touching the cold silk sheets of his cloud-soft bed brings me out of my thoughts and back to the moment. I wrap my legs around his waist as tightly as I can as he kisses down my neck. His hand grabs my breasts with such longing that I already feel as though I’m climbing the mountain of desire, preparing to plummet into ecstasy without him even penetrating me.
“Fuck me,” I whisper breathlessly as he trails down my body again, licking up the wetness from my skin at the mere thought of him fucking me with his exceedingly long, hard cock.
He bites his lower lip before kissing down my torso and stopping just at my opening. I'm aware that he’s teasing me, making me wait, so I know he wants me to beg him. I don’t beg, though— not for anything or anyone.Fuck. Might have to swallow my pride if he is insisting on this.He raises his brows as he presses a finger against my aching clit, throbbing with desire and expectancy.
“Please.” I whimper with a high-pitched moan, clutching the sheets on either side of me because I genuinely feel like I’m floating again, and I need to be present for this.
“Please, what?” He lowers his brows at me, pure focus on his face as he begins to stroke himself, continuing to rub over me until I can barely breathe.
“Romeo.” I furrow my brows, panting for breath.
“Lydia.” He meets my eyes with a challenge, and I grab the back of his neck, tugging on his hair for him to drop over me. His body rises in response, and he picks me up, tossing me closer to the top of the bed.
He throws one leg over my head, pushing his cock against my lips as his own mouth finds my aching pussy. I’m torn between arousal and elation that he’s going to lick me to another delectable orgasm and being ready to scream with frustration that he hasn’t fucked me yet.
His cock fills my mouth, my throat, thrusting in as he sucks my clit between his lips, teasing my entrance with his fingers as he fucks my mouth and my pussy at the same time, one with his cock and the other with his face. He’s devouring me, filling me, and I’m lost in pleasure and sensation. I feel him push into the back of my throat, my own lust reaching a crescendo point as he thrusts two fingers into me. I want to scream for him to just fuck me already–or I would if my mouth and throat weren’t full of cock.