“Please tell me you’re ready,” I growl.
“I don’t know,” she whispers. “But I don’t have a choice.”
I tilt my head down at her. “Of course you have a choice. I’d never force you to do something you weren’t comfortable with.”
“No, not that. I know that. I mean… my body, it’s like my body isn’t giving me a choice. Every single freaking instinct I have is telling me to cave to this, Roman.”
Letting out a shivering growling noise, I lean down and grab onto her thigh, pushing her dress aside and sliding further and further up her leg. Her pussy is fucking fire, her wetness and her need making her groin hot.
“Then cave,” I whisper in her ear, kissing her softly. “Your body knows what to do, Rayla. Cave in to your desires.”
She gasps as I reach her sex, pressing down with the heel of my palm, driving against her clit, and pressing against her lips through her panties. I grind my hand into her, staring at her, captivated by the way she moans and pulses against me. It’s like there are lightning bolts moving through her, rain hammering inside of her, and she can’t help but relent under the pressure.
“That’s it,” I snarl, softly nudging her back onto the bed.
She falls back with a giggle, but then the laughter becomes a moan as I rub her with even more primal possessive power. She moans and starts to buck against me.
“Fuck, you’re already soaked,” I growl, grabbing her panties and yanking them off.
I squeeze them, feeling their wetness, and then let them drop.
“You need to come quick,” I tell her, as I return my hand to her sex. “I want that tight hole ready for me when I claim you. I want you absolutely drenched with your squirting cream.”
“Okay, okay,” she gasps. “I’ll do my—”
Her words cut short when I slip my middle finger inside of her, pushing right up the knuckle, driving deeper and deeper each second until I’m pinned inside of her. Her wetness does savage things to my resolve, causing my need for her to expand to a size I never could’ve dreamed of.
She’s so ready, even if her mind is playing tricks on her.
But she won’t have a chance to be nervous when I’m driving up inside of her, stretching her young hole until she has no choice but to squirt thick hot come down my shaft.
“Are you going to come for me, Rayla?” I growl, staring down at her as she writhes on the bed.
With my free hand, I grab her dress and yank down the front. I grip her bra and tear it down, wedging it beneath her tits, staring in obsession and wonder at the way her breasts press together.
Her nipples are hard already, perky with lust.
Fingering her faster, I massage her tits, pinching her nipples softly and rubbing them between my forefinger and thumb. Her gasps change quality, get higher in pitch, as though she’s closer to the edge as I rub her.
“You like that, you horny girl?” I snarl.
“Yes, yes,” she moans, hardly able to force the words out.
I pump my finger even faster inside of her, reaching down and rubbing her nipples with even more speed, with even more savage intent.
When she begins to vibrate, my cock almost explodes.
Her moans fill the air and she bucks against me. I couldn’t look away if the rain became bullets outside and the whole cabin started to burn.
Nothing could make me turn away from the perfect way she bounces and pulsates against my hand.
“Fuck, fuck,” I growl, as her pussy flutters around my finger, sending waves of wetness surging all over my hand.
“You’re soaked.”
“I’m—oh—fuck.”
“That’s it. Come for me, angel. Get your pussy nice and wet.”
“Yes, yes, yes.”
She throws her head back and lets out a scream, bouncing up and down like she can barely stand the force of the orgasm.
She blinks as the orgasm fades, as though she’s slowly emerging from a dream she wants to stay trapped in. “Jesus, Roman, I’ve never felt anything like that before.”
“I’m starting to notice a theme,” I snarl, reaching down for my belt buckle.
I tear it loose and pull my trousers down, kicking them off at the same time as I tear my shirt away.
Buttons pop in quick succession as I rip it off, revealing my hard muscled body, every inch of me blazing with the desire to drive inside of her.
As I pull down my underwear, I stare down at her glistening hole, pink and soaking wet.
My cock springs up, feeling heavy with how much need is bubbling up inside of me. Precome glistening at my swollen head.
Rayla stares down between her raised thighs, shaking her head slowly. “You’re so freaking big. Are you sure you’re going to fit?”
I snarl and collapse atop her, holding myself up with my hands pressed on either side of her head. She gasps and reaches up, gripping onto my biceps, squeezing down on my muscles until it’s like her fingernails are going to snap against me.
“I have to fit,” I growl, kissing her cheek tenderly. “Our bodies know what they need to do. They know how hungry we are for each other. I can smell how badly your pussy wants this, how badly your womb needs this.”
Reaching down, I grip the base of my cock and guide my head to her entrance. When my tip kisses her wetness, a thundering feeling moves through me, compelling me to rub against it again. My tip burns and electricity writhes up and down my shaft, making it impossible to think, to feel anything but the sensation of our sexes trying to fuse.
“You feel that?” I whisper. “Your pussy needs this. Your virgin hole is desperate for it. As desperate as my seed is. Take it, Rayla. Take. My. Cock.”
I can’t hold myself back anymore, as I arch my back and drive forward.
“Ahh,” she cries, as I push deeper and deeper.
I grind all the way inside of her, as her hole clings with heavenly tightness onto my shaft. She squeezes down around me as I push in more and more, stopping only when I’m buried completely inside of her.
“You’re… so… deep…”
Her voice shivers as I hold myself there, savoring the feel of her tightness. She clings onto me like a fist of fire, like her womb is sending signals to her hole, telling her to hold onto me, to never let go, not until my seed has exploded inside of her.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” I growl.
“Too tight?” she whimpers.
I shake my head, laying a soft kiss against her lips. “No, you’re perfect.”
I slide out slowly, giving her time to feel every inch of me, to get used to the feeling of my length pushing against the walls of her sex.
Rayla’s face warps, as though she’s going through a hundred emotions a second.
But when I’ve pulled all the way out, holding my tip against her, her expression solidifies into one of need. She pouts and stares at me, eyes narrowed, hungry, and fascinated.
“I want it back,” she moans. “Oh, God, I can’t believe I’m saying this. I can’t believe we’re doing this. But I want it back, Roman.”
I know what she means about saying and doing this she’s never done before.
Everything is coated in a layer of the surreal, a layer of this-can’t-be-happening. It stems from holding ourselves back for so long – or, at least, for what feels like a long-ass time.
“My pleasure.”
I growl as I push inside of her again, carving a fire-hot path of pleasure. She gasps, but this time her pussy gives a flutter, a tempting squeezing that tells me she’s ready to take me, all of me.
“Fuck, that’s it. Move your hips like that.”
“Like this?” she moans, pushing down at the same time as I drive up. “Am I doing it right?”
“Yes, yes.” I pant. “It’s perfect. Keep pushing down like that.”
I pick up speed, sliding into her slick channel, my swollen head smashing into a deep place inside of her. My body takes over and I start to buck, over and over again as she moans and
her breasts bounce.
Staring down at her, I pump into her, watching as the reverberation shimmers through her breasts.
She reaches up as her moaning becomes louder, more frantic, her fingernails digging into my shoulders as we start to rock and pulse together.
Her eyes are brimming with fascination and pleasure, a smile making her lips twitch upward with each thrust.
“Rub your tits for me,” I growl, returning my gaze to those beautiful fleshy mounds.
“Like this?” she moans.
She buries her small hand in her breast, squeezing so her gorgeous nipples bulge around the edges of her fingers. She’s so goddamn curvy, so perfect for my each and every need.
I fight the urge to howl as I arch my back and pound her with even more force, causing the whole bed to squeak and moan, louder than the never-ending storm that drums against the window, the roof, everything.
Her pussy makes wet noises as I fuck her hard, fuck her like she deserves to be fucked. I can’t believe my precious woman ever thought her body wouldn’t be able to take this. She’s tight, clinging onto me, but she widens her legs just enough with each thrust, letting me push right up inside of her.
And her fucking moans… they’re like songs, tangled and jagged and vivacious as I pound her faster, more savagely, slamming into her tight needy hole.
“I can see how close you are,” I snarl, staring down at her face, shimmering in that way I’m starting to get familiar with.
Even if it’s only been a few short days with my woman, I find myself achingly alive to the way her features change, to the way her eyes widen in the moments before she comes. It’s in the subtlety of her moans too, the way they change, shift, and dance in the air.
And now I can feel it in her pussy, her hole becoming tighter, clinging with wet energy as though she’s getting ready for a release.
I snarl and pick up my pace, even more, trying to ignore the sizzling burning that goes up and down my shaft. My seed is trying to push up my length, bulging at the head, as though any second I could erupt.
I’m not sure how long we’ve been writhing like this, caught in this endless moment, but it feels like forever but not long enough. It feels like we could’ve been doing this for the past week, fucking and fusing, collapsing into each other, our moans and snarls clashing and joining with the music of the rain.
I lean down and crush my body against hers, and she wraps her arms around me, squeezing tight.
“Tell me you’re close,” I growl in her ear. “Tell me you’re going to cream like a good little virgin.”
“I’m close.” She gasps, digging her fingernails into my back. “And I’m going to… I’m going to…”
She cries out and starts to buck and vibrate, twitching on my dick so that I can feel her pleasure.
I lean back again so I can gaze down at her, staring as her eyelids flutter and her lips twist to the side. Like she can barely take this. Like she can barely believe it.
I stare down between us where our bodies join, at my cock slams into her, and watch as her thick white cream slides down my dick. There’s so much of that perfect cream, more and more of it spilling out every second until it’s like she’s never going to stop.
“Your tits,” I growl. “Grab your…”
I don’t need to finish the demand as my angel buries her hands in her breasts, giving me the most perfect picture to consume as I keep pounding into her.
My cock doesn’t even feel real anymore. It feels like starlight. It feels like it’s on fire. There’s so much buzzing, humming, all-consuming energy moving up and down my shaft. It’s like a miniature nuclear bomb is going off between us, threatening to turn us to rubble.
Her perfect little hands squeeze her breasts, toy with her nipples, as my balls swell to breaking point.
“Do it,” she cries, reaching up with one hand and clawing onto my cheek. “Together, we can do it together.”
I know she’s talking about the orgasm, but I can’t help but let her words wrap around me.
We can do it together… the future, a family, we can make it all okay. We have to. Because I can’t go back to my old life after meeting her, my woman, after claiming her like this.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
My balls swell and burn and suddenly my seed is shooting up my shaft, a whole ocean of it, making me fall atop her and bite down softly on her shoulder. I keep my teeth buried there as I roar, stifled, as the tip of my cock explodes a million times in the space of a second.
I’ve never felt heat like this, it’s searing, my seed scorching as it shoots out of my cock.
Finally, I let her shoulder go, as the last of my seed pumps into her.
Leaning back, I kiss the place I bit, my mark, and then move up her neck to her cheek. She turns her face and our lips collide.
Still inside of her – but wilting now – we kiss deeply, moaning as our tongues stroke, clash.
We make wordless promises as we kiss – that we’re in this together, that everything’s going to be okay, that no matter what happens, we’re going to make sure we have a future together.
Breaking it off, I hold my lips against hers, feeling the shape of her smile against my face.
“I think we just did it,” I tell her.
“I was just thinking the same thing,” she whispers. “And wondering if it makes me crazy.”
“No surprise there,” I teased lightly. “But really, my angel, I think we did. I think we just made a baby.”
She runs her hands through my hair. “What if we really did, Roman? What then?”
“We have our future.” I drop to the side, wrapping my arm around her and pulling her close to me. “We have a family, little footsteps running up and down the hallways. We have Christmases by the fire and summers by the lake.”
“Hopefully summers without freak storms, huh?”
“Exactly.” I chuckle, leaning forward to kiss her sweaty forehead. “And I have the best part of all, angel. I have you. I get to watch you with our children. I get to watch you become the mother I know you can be.”
“I want it.” She blinks and tears fill her eyes, sliding down her cheeks. “But we both know what we have to do first. And we both know it might never happen. I’m sorry, Roman. I want to lie here and talk about the future as if it’s all going to be perfect and nothing could possibly get in the way. But…”
She stares hard at me, as though begging me to see her point.
“I know.” I slide my fingers through her hair, smoothing it out of her way. “We have to tell Millie.”
She nods fiercely a few times, as though ramping herself up for it. “Should we call her?”
“No. Let’s wait for the storm to clear. When she gets here, we’ll tell her in person. And she’ll be fine with it. We’ll be able to begin our lives together, officially.”
She tilts her head at me, as though she doesn’t believe my words. But then she closes her eyes and rests her cheek against my chest.
Chapter Twenty-One
Rayla
I sit at the window with Tanker in my lap, looking out upon the sunny morning landscape. It’s been three days since the storm started. It officially ended last night, which means that Millie’s had plenty of time to arrange her flight up here.
“She should be here any minute,” I murmur, moving my hands almost obsessively over Tanker’s fur, as though by stroking the little guy I can distract myself from what we have to do.
“Yeah,” Roman says, standing on the other side of the room.
I can’t even risk glancing at him. Every time I look at him, I think about how wonderful the past few days have been, when the storm kept going and gave us an excuse to spend more and more time together.
After that first awakening in the bedroom – when my body told me I could definitely take my man – we made love four more times. Once with me on top, digging my fingernails into his chest as I writhed and bounced, hoping I wasn’t making a fool of myself.
/> But his moans and growling breaths told me how much he enjoyed it, losing himself in the complete carnality of the release.
We stare out at the sunny road together – the water of the lake twinkling, the trees verdant green, the sky clear, as though there was never a storm at all.
But we can’t pretend the rest of it didn’t happen.
Each moment, each breath, I fight to stay where I am, to stop myself from running across the room and into my man’s arms. Or drag him upstairs and sit in his office as he types, my notebook out as I continue to work on my play. I did that last night, as he was writing, scrawling in my notebook.
There’s something about being with him – even wordlessly – that lets me know I can face anything.
Tanker suddenly leaps from my lap, standing still with his head cocked, his tail pricked.
“What is it, boy?” I ask.
“He can hear her,” Roman says, his voice gruff and severe.
I risk a glance at him, my womb giving a pulse, my heart thundering. He’s wearing a shirt with the sleeves rolled up, open at the neck, showing me glimpses of his irrepressible muscles. But it’s the light in his eyes that drives me crazy… the light he gets just before he kisses me before he claims me.
When we make love, we don’t have to think about anything. But the time for putting off our responsibilities is over.
“She’s here?” I murmur.
He sighs, eyes flitting from me to Tanker to the outside world, the world we were able to pretend didn’t exist when the storm was raging.
“Yes, it’s time.”
“So this seems just a tad serious.” Millie giggles as she drops into the chair opposite me. She’s wearing her favorite black beanie hat and a checkered black shirt, the sleeves folded to show the blue butterfly tattoo on her wrist. “I was expecting pancakes and a hello, not an intervention.”
Roman chuckles, but I can hear how hollow it is, how forced.
We agreed that we had to tell Millie the second she got here. We couldn’t lie to her face, sneak around her back, engage in any of that nonsense. It would be too cruel and deceptive.
Trapped with My Best Friend's Dad: A Steamy Standalone Instalove Romance (A Man Who Knows What He Wants Book 258) Page 10