by Claire Adams
"Do it again," she whispered.
Our lips crashed together, briefly clicking teeth in our desperation. I held the back of her head, fisting her hair as my tongue and lips got reacquainted with hers. I walked us to the wall that led into the hallway, gently pressing Ron into it. I tore my mouth from hers to kiss her neck, to suck the skin above her collarbone in between my teeth. I palmed one of her tits over the dress, kissing her below her ear.
"Roman," she choked, desperately. I stopped, letting my hand slide down to her waist. I was holding her up against the wall, between her spread legs. I was so hard it hurt. If she told me to stop that was it, but I was praying she didn't. Praying that she wanted what I wanted to give her.
"Should I stop?" I asked.
"Don't. I want you," she said.
I held her close against me, walking us backward. I went through the dark hall to my bedroom, setting her down before I crawled over on top of her. I pulled her dress up, feeling her legs and thighs. White panties hid her pussy from me, so they had to go. She pushed herself up to her knees suddenly. Her dress zipped up the side, and she was pulling it down. I put my hands over hers, stopping her.
"No. Let me."
Chapter Eighteen
Veronica
Roman peeled my dress off and tossed it onto the floor. My panties were next. His head was buried between my thighs before I could find the words to tell him I wanted to see him, too. I hadn't been celibate this past year, but it didn't matter – my body jerked, and I cried out like I'd never been touched before. Three other men had touched me since Roman had, but I could hardly remember their names right then.
He alternated steady sucking with long licks over my clit, plunging two fingers into me in and out. His stubble scraped my skin, but it felt good. He knew what I liked, and that beat sleeping with someone new a million times over. The weight of his touch and his skilled lips and tongue were welcome and familiar. My legs were splayed lewdly, and he made animalistic groans as he pleasured me.
The rise started deep inside my core. It was like he sensed it, too, because he went faster, fucking me with his fingers and lashing my clit with his tongue. I pinched my nipples between my fingers, letting my orgasm wash over me. I spasmed and sagged, panting as Roman's tongue collected my essence.
He pushed my legs up towards my body, and I froze. I knew what he was about to do but it still sent a thrill through me, a throb through my clit. His finger trailed the line from my opening to my back-door gently pushing against the tight ring. I sighed as he rimmed me with his tongue. Sean had asked incessantly for anal, but I didn't trust him not to hurt me. I didn't trust anyone to know where to touch me and how to fuck me like Roman.
I tried to look at him. I could just make him out in the darkness, but that didn't change how keenly every move he made felt against my skin. I touched his hair, running my fingers over his cheek to get his attention. He raised his head, letting his thumb take his tongue's place teasing my asshole. I shut my eyes, moaning.
"Roman, please," I said.
"I haven't tasted you in a year, babe. I can't help it," he said, his voice heavy with strain.
"You haven't fucked me in a year," I complained. I was hungry for him. My basest desires longed to feel him pumping between my thighs, hard and rough till he spilled his seed into me.
"I'm never making that mistake again," he murmured.
His weight left me suddenly. He walked across the room to turn the light on. I covered my eyes as they adjusted, focusing on him again right as his underwear hit the floor and he kicked them away. My mouth practically watered.
He looked leaner than he had been a year before, but still all thick, corded muscle and long, strong limbs. Erect, almost purple at the tip, was his cock standing at attention, straight up against his stomach. Masculine strength and god-like endowment.
He was over me again, holding himself up. I cupped his face, kissing him desperately. I was ready, gushing between my thighs, waiting for him to enter me. What was he waiting for?
"Ronnie," he said, brushing my hair back and touching his forehead to mine. "I haven't slept with anyone since the last time we were together. I'm clean. I don't want to use a rubber, but I will if you want me to," he said. I felt a flash of shame in myself for letting my want make me forget.
"I'm still on birth control," I said. "The other..." I didn't want to bring up other men when we were like this. "You're the only person I've fucked skin to skin," I said instead.
Guilt bloomed in my chest when he kissed me. He had dumped me; what I had done wasn't wrong, but at the time, it hadn't been honest. Not deep and visceral the way it was with Roman. I pushed against his shoulders till he let me roll him to his back, mounting him. My hand barely closed around his cock as I jerked his engorged tip. He groaned, leaning back into the pillow.
"I get a ride today? Is it my birthday?" he teased. I lined him up with my wet slit and sunk him into me. He gripped my hips, controlling my speed.
"Slow," he said harshly. He pressed me down onto him inch by agonizing inch till his full length filled me. I started slow like he wanted, grinding my hips into his. Not a spot inside me felt untouched, he filled me so completely. His girth stretched me, filling the space that for years had been only his.
He sat up suddenly, hitting me at a different angle. I rode him, feeling his lips close around my nipple and his fingers reach back between my cheeks to toy with my rosebud. He was stimulating every part of me. He was so thorough, I whimpered as he gave me everything I didn't need to ask for because he already knew.
His arm closed around me, and in a flash, I was on my back, his weight bearing me into the mattress. He rocked in and out of me, slow and steady. The long, hard strokes completed me, torturous and sweet at the same time. My opening wept around him, wet beyond belief. I tried to hold off my orgasm, wanting this to last, but I didn't stand a chance against the man who knew my body almost as well as I did. I let the wave knock its way through me, convulsing and crying out.
He went faster, grunting and thrashing till I felt his orgasm, his cum shooting powerfully from his dick, coating my walls. He sagged into me, panting, and kissed me sweetly before pulling out and rolling onto his back, taking me with him so I rested on his chest. Sated, we both came down from the sexual high, intimately together even though he was no longer inside me.
I couldn't keep my hands off of him. His skin was slightly damp where one rested on his chest. I always loved that he never waxed his chest or anything like that, being with a guy who had less body hair than I did was a pretty strong turn-off. I felt comfortable pressed up against him, naked after having sex with him for the first time in so long.
My fingers brushed the trail of coarse hair that led from below his navel to his dick. His hand closed around mine, bringing it to his lips and kissing my knuckles.
"Gotta give me a minute, babe," he said lightly. I was getting dangerously close to his dick and he wasn't ready to go again. I was just happy to be here. He was right there. His lips, his touch, his body... It had been even better than I could have imagined.
"I just can't believe it," I said.
"What?"
"When you left, I was hell-bent on hating you. I tried to hate everything you were and everything we did," I admitted. His chest rose and fell under my head.
"I'd do the same thing if I were in your position. I'm sorry I did what I did to you," he said.
"I thought that if I could find a way to hate you, I'd get over you faster. I never forgot this, though. I couldn't hate it."
"Sex?"
"Well, yes," I said, blushing, “but this part too. Just being in your arms again." The arm he had around my waist tightened, and I felt him kiss my forehead.
"I missed holding you," he said into my hair. His arms made me feel safe – his arms, his specifically. I had been intimate with guys since Roman, but he was... It meant more with him. There was history and friendship there. When we came together, it wasn't just our bodies tha
t connected.
"You don't know how much I missed this," he said. If it was anywhere close to how much I had missed it, then I had an idea. "Stay with me tonight." It hadn't been a question. It hadn't even been a suggestion. He was telling me to stay the night. I could have said something, that I didn't want to stay with him, or that I didn't like it that he didn't even bother to ask me first. Both would be lies.
His hand came up and brushed against my cheek. I craned my neck to look up at him.
"I thought you had fallen asleep on me," he said.
"Not yet." I was tired, but I wasn't dozing off. "Be right back," I said, gently removing myself from his hold. He had an en-suite bathroom, so I didn't have to go far. I rifled through my purse for some makeup wipes and disappeared behind the door. I wiped my face off then cleaned up before he dried in between my thighs. We had been committed, and I had trusted him completely, so I didn’t mind that we hadn’t used protection.
Yep, and how had that turned out?
I didn't want to think about it, but the thoughts flooded through me as soon as I had allowed that little trickle of doubt in. Laying there with him it had felt right again. His force in my life was undeniable. I had been a fool thinking one measly year was all it would take to get over him. I had carved space for him in my life, and he had never stopped filling it, even when he broke my heart and left me.
He had done it once. Who was to say I was safe if I let him back in again? According to him, it was his deployment that did it. He was still in the army, even though he was home now. He could get deployed again – he probably would. What would that mean? Would he do it again? Decide for the both of us that we couldn't be together anymore?
I had just shared my body with him. The satisfaction sapped out of me, replaced with fear and something else. Regret. Roman had always made me feel proud and full and in love after sex. What if this was a mistake?
A year was nothing, but it was everything, too. What had happened that I had missed and what did it mean for us? I wanted to say the trust I had had for him was restored, but it wasn't. It couldn't be. We weren't on solid ground and look at how little it had taken for him to dump me before.
It had been too much. I had never cried over another person like that in my life. People who knew me and didn't know me alike would ask me what was wrong with me, whether I was okay because I had been such a mess. I couldn't go through it again. I couldn't. I wasn't sure a second chance with Roman was worth that much fucking heartache.
A sharp knock at the door made me jump.
"Yeah?"
"You okay?" I heard him ask. How long had I been in here? I splashed water on my face and patted it dry before coming out.
"All yours," I said as lightly as I could. He cupped my cheek, kissing me before he went into the bathroom. I waited for him on the bed, finding it hard to be comfortable there again. The toilet flushed, and he was out a few moments later, still naked. Even with all the doubt in my heart, I couldn't help the way my body responded to him.
He climbed into the bed and tucked me into his chest, facing away from him so we were spooning. I felt a kiss on my shoulder as he told me goodnight. I pushed back into him, holding one of his hands in mine. I wanted that physical comfort to make me feel like I was wrong about doubting him. I wanted so badly to feel as free and safe as I used to, but I couldn't ignore how we'd gotten here.
I knew now to watch my back. I would until he let me know I didn't need to anymore.
Chapter Nineteen
Roman
I was up even earlier than usual Monday morning. It was still dark out and I didn't have to be awake, but I couldn't sleep. It had been this way the last three years... Well, the two years before this last one. The start of summer semester.
As a player, it had never been an option for me to skip it. Summer was pool parties and trips overseas for a lot of students, but for us, it was summer training. Obviously, with that, we had had to take classes, too.
If you had been slacking off, summer was the best time to try raise your GPA since it wasn't as busy as the normal semesters. I wasn't a student anymore, but summer training sounded pretty good to me right then. It didn't matter how good I knew I was. If you didn't practice a skill, you lost it, it was simple as that.
The training in the army had kept me pretty conditioned, but I knew I needed to get actual play time, get my head in the game again. I was excited. I was ready to get started – I needed a life again. Ron was back in my arms, almost a sure thing; all I needed now was a way into the league.
Coach Fitz had set the meeting for noon. I was knocking at his door with a couple minutes to spare. He barked at me to come in.
What was the deal with coaches? Why were they always overweight? Why didn't any of them actually look like the athletes they were supposed to train? I wasn't going to say I could do the job, but it just made sense in my head. You didn't go to a doctor who smoked, why would you let a guy who looked like he'd never ran a suicide in his life coach sports?
I didn't know. It added up somehow, and I guess that was the only thing that mattered. Coach Fitz had reportedly played back in the day and injury took him out. He wasn't built like an athlete anymore, but it was clear that the guy knew his stuff. The team had always done great under him.
He looked at me as I took a seat in the chair across from him on the other side of the desk. He took his glasses off and leaned back in his big office chair.
"Roman Blake," he said, a grin spreading across his face.
"Coach," I said back in greeting.
"I had to start Greg Hackman when you left, do you know that? We lost four games back to back."
"Sounds rough; did he get better?"
"He had no choice. He had to fill your big fucking shoes," he said.
I laughed, relaxing a little. Coach had always been hard, pushing us when he knew we were half-stepping it, but he was a pretty cool dude, too. Maybe other guys on the team didn't tell it like that, but that was how he had always been with me.
"For what it's worth, I'm sorry I left you in the lurch."
"We lose good guys every year, that wasn't the bad part. It just came out of the blue with you," he said. "Where'd you end up? Korea? Europe?"
"Afghanistan." He whistled.
"Right in the shit, huh? Still got all your factory assembled parts?" he asked, joking. Lucky I did because that wouldn't have went down as smooth if I hadn't.
"Still like new."
"What about this part?" he asked, tapping his finger against his temple. I was glad he wasn't sugar coating it. I didn't like being treated like there might be something wrong with me.
"Sound of body and of mind, Coach. I'm ready to play."
"I bet you are. How much field time did you get in Afghanistan?"
"Not enough," I said. More like none. "That's why I'm here now."
"I was looking forward to sending you to the draft," he said almost wistfully.
"I was looking forward to going. I know I lost a year, but I'm ready to start over. Whatever it takes."
"You did lose a year, huh," he said. "The guys getting picked up by the league for next season? None of those guys did." I nodded gravely.
"I know. I'm confident about building my base back up. I'm still in good shape, strength, cardio… I'm ready to give it everything."
"Are you coming back this semester?"
"Is that what it's going to take?"
"Why are you here, Roman?" he asked me, straight.
"I've wanted to play ball since I was six years old. That didn't change when I was injured, not when I was deployed, not now that I'm on the other side of it. I'm ready, Coach. I'll do the work. I just need an in."
"You come back from a year off, and you really think you, out of all people deserve to land a spot in the league?"
"I know nothing's going to stop me. I'll work as hard as I need to, then harder than that. I know what I'm capable of, Coach."
"I think I do, too. Losing you was unfortu
nate, son," he said. "You would have had teams fighting to get their contracts in your lap first."
"Still will," I said, determined.
"You would have been as good as signed if you hadn't left. Would be an awful waste to let you go."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean I might have a way to help you," he said thoughtfully. "I have a connection, works with a lot of scouts, league owners, and managers; he might have a way to get you into the combine." My heart jumped into my throat.
"When?"
"Your best shot would be the one coming up. That's next month." That was about a week away. I hadn't played in a long time, so it would be risky.
"I'd appreciate that, Coach," I said instead, knowing it was the right thing. When would this come around again?
"I'll make the call and get back to you," he said. I thanked him, grateful for the opportunity. The combine was mostly a fitness test, and I knew I was up to scratch there. In my life, I had probably done more hours of workouts and drills than actual football games. I left Coach Fitz's office with an anxious, excited ache in my stomach.
I climbed into my car and slammed the door shut. What now? I didn't want to go home. I could, it made the most sense, but I felt like that wasn't what I was supposed to do just then. The news was taking a little while to settle. I was happy, but I couldn't believe my luck. I knew for a fact that it didn't usually happen like this.
The pressure was on. If I had this chance, I had to show that it was because I deserved it. I never got nervous about football, but suddenly, I was. I knew I could perform, but I also knew I had to get this right in order get me where I wanted to be by next year, hell, maybe even regular season this year.
I had to tell Ron.
The thought flashed through me like second nature. I had to tell her. I was excited and wanted to tell someone but I didn't just want to tell anyone. We had always shared what was happening in our lives together, but hadn't in a long time. I had stopped telling her things when I got my warning order for my deployment a year ago. That had been the thing that fucked us up – me, keeping my mouth shut when I should have fucking said something. Then when I had chosen to say something, it had been the wrong thing.