by Bethany-Kris
“Karine—”
“And, well—”
“Karine.” Before she could twist and crack another bone, that sharp ache getting her from one sentence to the next even though the anxiety had swelled in her throat beyond the point of comfort, he was there. Unfurling her hands, twining her fingers with his to stop the self-harm offering her relief. “Stop it, I said.”
She just stared up at him, unmoving. Roman remained still, too, staring right back.
“And not just this,” he told her, his fingers tightening around her own, “but blaming yourself, too. Stop all of it. I’m not blaming you for any of this. It’s not your fault. They know it, too.”
The breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding came out in a rush, right alongside her words. “I just ... I can’t help that you’re the only one who makes me feel okay, but I won’t when you’re gone, Roman. I won’t be okay at all.”
“Don’t you see what you’re worth to me?”
The question was simple. Her perception was the problem. Knowing so and fixing it was two different things, however. Karine was still working on that.
“I want to,” she admitted. “I want to see it, but it’s hard when I’ve never been worth much to anyone before.”
Did he realize that?
She knew it was hard to understand.
He pulled her to himself, flush against him, and in that second, she melted. Every last hint of doubt she ever had regarding his intentions, about what he wanted from her—was gone. Just like that.
When he held her, nothing mattered.
She was right about him all along.
“I’m not a complete idiot, I know this isn’t easy, Karine,” Roman said, his words muffled into the top of her head while his arms tightened around her. “The reason I’m here—fuck, why I want to be here with you—is because I found something when I found you. And that alone makes you worth all of it. I just need you to believe it, too. I swear it’s true.”
Nothing was simple.
Not for Karine.
It couldn’t be.
For him, she tried, though. Just that once to take what he said exactly as he said it, and see it as truth. She had nothing left to lose. She was worth something to him, he said so—what else mattered?
Karine raised up on her toes, peering up before kissing the underside of his chin. When she did, his arms fell around her waist, pinning them in place. She couldn’t quite reach his kiss without help, but he seemed to know exactly what she wanted. Her mouth on his; his tongue teasing, taking, licking even the breath from her lips.
She missed his kiss.
The way he kissed.
The second his mouth met hers, he whispered, “I don’t want to go, either.”
Reminding her exactly who she belonged to all at once while his kiss pounded the final notes of a new song home. The bass came from the beats of her heart; his words made it all ring. And she was trapped by the melody with every flick of his tongue and graze of his lips.
He kissed her bruisingly hard, a hand tight to her waist and another under her jaw keeping her right there. But yes, she wanted it. Making her whine with the need for breath while the blood rushed wildly in her ears. Even in chaos, he was soothing, she only fell into it.
Into him.
Into more.
“I dreamed of you last night,” she gasped as his mouth kissed a hot path over her trembling chin.
His lips paused in their tantalizing trek. “Oh?”
“I can’t remember it.”
“But?”
“I woke up warm.”
His wicked grin formed against jawline. “And?”
“And what?”
“Tells me enough,” he muttered, planting another kiss against her lips, “to say dreaming me didn’t leave you wet.”
Karine’s nerves sang, her hands already working to unbutton his shirt while he simultaneously pulled down the tiny shorts she had pulled on under the oversized long-sleeved shirt. She nibbled on his bottom lip, enjoying his dark hum, before replying, “Didn’t matter—I wanted the real you anyway.”
“You’ve fucking got me, babe.”
Good.
She was still in the clothes she’d gone to sleep in the previous night. Her shorts fell to the floor around her ankles; the long-sleeved shirt quickly followed, finding the pile of discarded clothes along with his when he let her drag the shirt down his strong arms.
He stopped her for reaching for the button on his pants when he said, “I don’t have long—you made me wait damn near to the last minute, Karine. I’ve got to be downstairs in twenty.”
She pouted, then.
Roman growled at the sight, kissing her harder before mumbling against her quivering lips, “Thirty, then. Fuck it, they’ll have to deal.”
Even that wasn’t enough.
She’d make do.
“You have a bad habit of not wearing panties,” he noted, gaze raking over her naked body when he put just a few inches of distance between them. “Or a bra.”
“Only when I sleep.”
“Doesn’t matter. I like it.”
Hell.
She’d sleep naked, curled in his lap every night if he wanted her to.
Karine didn’t get to reach for his pants again, because in the next second, his hand was between her thighs, fingers seeking the sweet, warm heat he’d find waiting there. The pleased, low hum he released when his fingers slid between her folds to find her wet, and her clit already sensitive to his touch made her shiver.
“I’m gonna make you come,” he told her. “Fast, and hard. And then you can take what you want from me, Karine. Whatever you want, yeah?”
An airless yes answered him back, but she’d said it, and it was enough. The strokes of his fingers were fast, and relentless. Precise, tight circles that make her knees weak and coaxed the moans from her one after another.
She’d wanted a taste of him—loved his cock in her mouth, the way he lost control when she sucked him, and how he looked above her when she was on her knees, but she couldn’t tell him that. Couldn’t look away from his eyes when he watched her lips part as the orgasm crawled closer, and he said, “Almost, babe.”
Nearly there.
“But I want to taste it when you do,” he added.
Roman’s hand stopped then, and he dropped to his knees all at once with wet fingers slipping into her sex as his mouth took the place overtop her clit. He sucked hard, then rolled the swollen nub with his tongue with rapid, firm flicks as she rocked against him.
It was the sudden finger against her ass, pressing and circling the tight hole before slipping in knuckle-deep that really threw her off the edge.
She hadn’t been expecting that—it was new, and different. Good, yes, but shocking all the same. The intensity of the sharp pleasure that accompanied it was unlike anything she’d felt before.
Already, she was addicted.
The relief of the orgasm crashing down was instant, but she lost everything else for seconds. Her ability to think, to breathe. It was all gone while her fingers scraped along his scalp, and she fell beneath the waves crashing through her body.
Karine had barely had time to come down from the high before Roman was standing, his hand still caressing the tender, slick flesh between her thighs when he leaned in for a kiss. She took it, tasting herself on his lips—a tart, heady flavor.
He made her breath catch when he grinned, lips hovering over hers. “You liked that.”
She knew exactly what he meant.
“Make sure you do it again.”
Roman liked it best when she surprised him—coming out of left field with a reply he wasn’t ever ready for. Now wasn’t the exception to the rule, and before she knew what happened, he’d thrown her over his shoulder and was carrying her to his bed. She clung to him, wrapping her limbs around him, so she could feel the strength of his every sinew.
Those wide shoulders; his steel pecs. How the bands of muscles in his back flexed under h
er fingertips dancing down his spine.
His hand cracked against her ass, earning him a high pitch squeal that melted in a moan when he squeezed the same spot to massage away the sting. His murmured, dark promises into her skin where he kissed as he walked, tickling and teasing her all at the same time.
She was still trying to figure out how or why this man would want her. What had she done to deserve him?
Roman sat down on the edge, sliding her down his body until she had settled in his lap. She threw herself into him, into his fierce kiss, and his wandering hands. Her hair fell like a curtain around his face while he molded her to himself. His cock was already thick, and underneath her, the length straining against the fabric of his slacks. Unashamed, she grinded her hips into him, not at all caring that her own wetness might leave a mark behind on his pants.
Good.
Something to remember her by.
“God, Karine,” he uttered, her name a prayer on his lips.
She lifted from his lap under his urging, but only for him to undo his pants and shift them down enough to free his erection from the confines of his boxer-briefs. He stole another quick kiss, pulling her down—closer and closer, straight on to him. His cock dove deep into her with one quick stroke.
She was already wet.
Already hungry.
That desire pooling in her belly was aided by the orgasm she’d already had, and Karine couldn’t get enough. The feeling of his thickness stretching her full, burying deep ... those clenching, inner muscles of her pussy shuddered with racing bliss.
She couldn’t contain it.
Karine cried out with pleasure. He could make her come just like that. Her clit was on fire, throbbing to be touched, and she reached down to do just that while her other hand steadied on his shoulder. She felt exactly how slick and hot she was for him, every brush of her fingertips making her hips jerk into his cock.
If he would let go of her then, she knew she would’ve fallen. She held on to him, his shoulder, but it felt like air. Complete surrender was possible. She found it when he was inside of her.
“Ride me,” he demanded, all husky and hoarse. “Come on, Karine. Take it.”
She did, rocking in his lap, her fingers working wild circles into her clit while his mouth lavished attention to her body. Across her chest, over her breasts—his tongue lapping at her peaking nipples before he dragged them between his teeth. The pleasure was sharp, but beautiful. The deeper she took him, the faster she worked her body against his, climbing higher again, the more he urged her on.
Just like that. And, fuck, you’re so beautiful. Fuck me, Karine, fuck me how you want, baby. Take it the way you need.
The soft kisses he dotted along her collarbones was a complete contrast to how hard his fingers dug into her sides. She fucked him harder, and he touched her slower. Karine dragged her nails against the back of his neck with desperation, almost there but not quite.
And yet, no matter how hard she fought to get to her orgasm, she couldn’t help but watch him, too. That struggle to keep himself in control while she rode him to bliss. How his lower lip quivered when he let out pants of air that mingled with her own heavy breaths.
They shouldn’t fuck like this, and she knew it. Raw, every single time. That choice was going to catch up to them eventually, but dammit if she cared now ... because she didn’t. She liked the way he felt inside her when he was bare. How that thick vein on the underside of his length pulsed when she clenched around him; how they mixed after they came. She even liked his stickiness between her thighs, and cleaning it away later, touching herself under hot bath water and remembering while she did it.
Roman grunted a low fuck under his breath, and she knew that sound. He was struggling, just like she was, to keep it together because nothing felt like this. Nothing was better than them together this way.
She couldn’t quite remember how she found herself on her knees all of the sudden ass pulled high on the edge of the bed, but it didn’t really matter. In the next moment, Roman was pounding deep into her from behind and Karine was already flying.
Screaming her orgasm into sheets she balled against her face. He fucked her hard like that, enough to ache, so deep she’d feel him for days.
And then he came with hot spurts to her backside, and along her lower back while she watched him over her shoulder through half-closed lashes while he jerked himself to a finish.
White, thick, and warm.
Marking her, in a way, as his thumb smeared the cum against her skin where her back melted into the roundness of her ass.
“I’m never going to forget the way you look when you’re like this,” he said, still breathless and touching himself on her.
He couldn’t know it.
Didn’t.
But that was exactly what she wanted to hear.
• • •
He gave her those thirty minutes he promised, letting her climb on top of him naked in the bed, and curl up into his waiting embrace. At first, she’d counted the minutes just in case. All the while thinking, you told me thirty; I want each one.
But he didn’t move an inch.
Not unless it was to touch her.
Their limbs were tangled with the sheets. Karine could feel the dampness on his skin, his strong masculine scent mixed with the undeniable whiff of sex still lingering in the air. Their sex. She tried to commit that to memory, too.
“No matter what happens,” she started to say, so quiet that she couldn’t even be sure he had heard her. “I want you to know you did the right thing—taking me with you was the right thing, Roman. I found where I wanted to be.”
In a way.
A very important way.
“And thank you for doing what you’ve done for me,” she added. ‘What you’re still doing.”
“Hey, it’s not a no matter kind of thing.” He hooked a finger under her chin, tipping her face upwards to him. “I will always come back to you, Karine. Even if I’m in pieces.”
He kissed her nose, her lips, then her chin. She drew in a deep, anxious breath, the exhale shaky even in her chest.
“What did I tell you, huh?” he asked. “As long as you want me, I’m here.”
“I don’t want to think of you in pieces—what does that even mean?”
“It means you have nothing to worry about.”
She rested her chin on her folded hands right in the middle of his chest, enjoying the way he watched her. The longer their gazes locked, the more her need for him started to grow all over again. To have him inside her; his words were always easier to hear when he was fucking her. It was the only way she could satiate her insecurities. If he was close to her, they wouldn’t taunt her.
Instead of feeding into the selfishness, she told him, “But you won’t be here, and you can’t blame me for wondering if you’ll be able to come back.”
Or if he’d be alive to, rather.
“Karine,” he said her name firmly, making her gulp when that hand of his came to lay against her cheek. “I’m going to ask you again—do you trust me?”
Honestly?
“More than anyone, Roman.”
Or anything.
“Good, because that’s really the only fucking thing I have. There’s not much else that’s good about me, babe, but that I can give you. My loyalty to you. If I say something, I’ll do it. For you. Do you hear me?”
She nodded once.
“I’ve never trusted anyone before,” she whispered.
It felt like it shouldn’t even need to be said, but she did it, anyway.
“I know.”
He kissed the curve of her shoulder, and then slowly started to ease her off his chest. She wanted to grip him hard, with both hands. She’d do anything—even something drastic right then—to make him stay.
But she couldn’t.
Or ... Karine knew she shouldn’t.
So, she let him go.
Roman stood at the foot of the bed as he dressed himself. Those thirty mi
nutes were up, and Karine could feel the tears coming.
No. She wouldn’t do that to him. Not now when he had to leave. She didn’t want the sight of tears streaming down her face to be the last thing he saw before he walked out of that bedroom, so she stifled the hitching in her throat and the sting in her eyes.
Just a little bit longer.
When he was gone, she would cry.
Only then.
“I’ll see you soon, right?” she asked, sinking back into his sheets.
His bed.
It smelled like him, and now her. Them. She had no intention of leaving his room anytime soon. Or ever. Fuck anyone who tried to make her do anything different.
“You know it,” he told her.
So sure.
He’d finished dressing fast, and before he carried his bag to the door, he came around the bed to her side again. She didn’t really need to ask the question echoing in the back of her mind, because she knew what his answer would be, but it still felt right ... so, Karine asked, “You promise?”
He took her fingers, pressing the tips to his mouth, the kiss featherlight. “I do.”
“Be safe, Roman.”
This man.
He winked.
All sinful, and gorgeous.
And now, very possibly, hers.
“Be good,” he told her.
Well.
Karine would try, but ...
“No promises.”
FIFTEEN
One week crawled into two, and Roman felt every fucking second of those days tick by. From the moment he left Vermont, he became painfully aware of the time passing, because for once in his life, he was doing everything but what he wanted to do.
It took so little effort to be selfish.
And so much not to be.
In the back seat of his friend’s newest car, Roman killed time watching the streets of a familiar city as Marky navigated the road. They were trying to kill time. Marky had a habit of changing vehicles far too often for Roman to keep track of which one the guy was driving on any given week; his access to fleets of stolen vehicles did not go unused. Which, in a way, helped them with their current situation considering he had to stay on the move. Roman was doing his best to avoid a run-in with the FBI like Demyan had experienced.