by Lily Harlem
He emerged from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. The shower was still running.
“Get cleaned up,” he said, nodding at the bathroom.
“Yeah, okay.” She didn’t need telling twice. Hot running water was a luxury she’d never take for granted again.
She scooted past him, shut the door and stripped. After using the toilet she stepped into the stream of water. Roper had opened the complimentary bar of soap, and as the blissful heat rained down on her, she covered her body in the rose-scented lather. Her ribs were more prominent than they had been, her waist a size she’d always craved, and her buttocks had definitely lost their roundness. Pizza would do her good.
When she’d had her fill of showering, she turned off the faucet and stepped out. Enjoying the feel of the clean towel, she dried off and rubbed the drips from her hair, then, like Roper, she headed back into the motel room with just the towel wrapped around herself.
She hoped he’d keep his promise and give her more of what he had earlier.
Her belly flipped at the thought of getting down and dirty with him again and her nipples tingled. What other deliciously filthy tricks did he have up his bad boy sleeve?
He was laid on the bed, towel still in place, ankles crossed and one arm behind his head, showing off a thick patch of underarm hair. His wounded arm was at his side, holding the TV remote. He’d applied a fresh dry dressing over his gash.
“Come here,” he said, muting the sound on the program he’d been watching.
She did as he’d instructed and stood by the bed next to him. A sudden attack of nerves went through her and seemed to accentuate the tingling sensation already traveling over her skin from the hot water.
Did he want to strangle her again?
“How many lovers you had?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.
“Two.”
He tipped his head. “That’s including me, right?”
She clenched her fists. “Yeah, so?”
“So, nothing.” He reached for her hand. “Though it does make it a bit more fun. You’re almost a virgin.”
“Am not.”
He chuckled. “Come here. We’ve got time to kill before the pizza arrives, and I’ve got a plan.”
She swept her tongue over her bottom lip and admired the way his muscles rippled beneath the surface of his shoulders as he moved. “A plan to fuck, right? Show me more of your kinks?”
“You know me so well already.” He shuffled down the bed, so he was lying flat. “Sit on my face.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Lose the towel and sit on my face. I want to lick that sweet pussy of yours without getting a damn neckache.”
“Neckache…what are you? An old man?”
“I’m a man, honey, but age is just a number.” He unhooked her towel, and it fell to the floor.
Beth didn’t move. Just sit on his face? Spread her legs and squat on him? Could she do that?
“Come on, baby. Don’t be shy. You’ve got a great body and a tight pussy that comes so sweetly. I wanna taste you.” He circled first her right and then her left nipple with his fingertip. “I want you to squirt in my mouth.”
“You’re filthy.”
“Yeah, I really am.” He grinned.
A shiver of need ran from her breasts through her belly and to her pussy. Her clit trembled.
“Come on,” he said again. “You know I’ll make it good.” His eyes narrowed and a cocky smile played with his lips. “Sit on my face…that’s all you gotta do. I’ll do the rest.” He took hold of her right hand and tugged her closer. “Climb on, as if I were that Vulcan sitting in the lot.” He kept on pulling until she had no choice but to climb onto the bed.
She felt so exposed, so small next to him.
And she clearly weighed nothing to him, even with his injured arm. Because he quickly maneuvered her so she was sitting with her knees either side of his head. She held herself high, though, aware his view was made up entirely of her pussy.
“Good girl,” he murmured, sliding his hands over her buttocks, halfway up her back, then to her waist. “That’s it, drop down.”
She held onto the wooden headboard and eased toward him.
He lifted his head and swiped his tongue from her entrance to her clit, laving it slowly through her damp folds.
“Oh God,” she murmured, clutching the wooden rail as her thighs shook.
“Lower, come to me.” He eased her down so he could rest his head on the pillow.
She stared at a scuff on the wall and sank. She felt so lewd, so utterly wanton.
He licked over her pussy, approving moans rumbling up from his chest.
She held her breath as he poked at her entrance with his tongue, pushing into it, swirling around, as though starving for her.
Moisture poured from her, arousal taking a decisive grip on her pussy.
Sliding his hands to her thighs, he held her firm and worked his way to her clit. He circled it, flicked it, then set his lips over it and sucked gently.
“Roper,” she gasped. “Oh…yeah…”
He began to rub the flat of his tongue over and over her clit, building the pressure, working up her need for release.
She arched her spine, tipping forward a little. Her mound pressed against his nose, her thick pubic hair rubbing over it.
“More,” she gasped. Fuck, who would have thought it so hot to be sitting on a guy’s face? It was fucking awesome. “More, more…” She rocked, seeming to find stimulation everywhere.
He released her thigh and slid between her legs, pushing his fingers into her pussy. He pressed on a place that made her bear down harder on him.
“Oh…oh…just there, yes…just there…” She bucked for more. Her orgasm was rising up to claim her. And this time it felt like she was in control. She was riding him.
Closing her eyes and gripping the headboard so hard her fingers ached, she enjoyed the exquisite build up to release. The journey to that point was as much fun as the destination.
He worked her inside and out, the dense sensation satisfying on its own, but as the climax hit, she wondered how she’d survive, it was so intense. “Fuck…fuck…” She gasped. “It’s here.”
He reached up and grabbed her right breast, easily filling his hand with the flesh.
She came, grinding on his face, pushing her clit at his mouth, his nose, anything that gave her what she needed.
He stroked her G-spot, forcing it through a long, deeply satisfying release.
She carried on rubbing against him, loving the extending bliss that was circulating through her body.
Breathlessly, she looked down at him. His eyes were shut as if lost to the moment and his hand looked so big on her pale breast. Never in all of her life had she dreamed she’d do this, but it was incredible.
It seemed in the short time she’d known Roper, he was already revealing new layers of her sexual desires.
Her orgasm began to fade, and she straightened her knees, lifting upward.
The smile on his face was broad, and his eyes sparkled as he looked up at her. “Your girl cum is awesome.”
Chapter Seven
Beth giggled. Roper was so damn crude.
He pulled his fingers from her pussy and swatted her ass.
“Ow!”
“You laughing at me?” he asked, his grin not slipping.
“No, no…I just…”
“What?”
“That was…exhausting…” She lifted off him and flopped to the bed, on her belly, but still facing him. “Fuck…I’m tired.”
“Ah, poor little girl…has it worn you out, all this sex with a real man?”
“That must be what it is. Not months of living on the street and then a day when I’ve been shot at, fucked, strangled and sat on the back of a damn bike for hours.”
He laughed and set his hand on her lower back. “Maybe I’ll give you a few minutes to recover before…”
“Before what?”
“Before I come on your tits.” He rubbed up to her shoulders and back down. Smoothing over her skin and caressing her buttocks, over the sting he’d just created there.
“I bet I’ve got a handprint on my ass, you thug.”
“Makes you mine for the next few hours. That mark means I can do what I want with you.”
“You reckon?” Not that she was complaining.
“Yeah, while my handprint’s there, I get to make you come as many times and in as many ways as I want. Been a while since I had a pretty little thing to play with.”
“Does that mean you normally only lay fat old things?”
“Nah, it means it’s been a while since anyone caught my eye.” He slipped his hand between her buttocks, stroking over the cleft, lower, farther, till he reached her anus.
She tensed.
“But you,” he said. “Waltzing into my apartment and giving me a blowjob, then looking at me with those innocent fuck-me eyes. Well, let’s just say you’ve given me a taste for it again.” He circled her anus. “Might just fuck this sweet little hole, too.”
Jeez. Really? He was so fucking bad.
He tipped closer and spoke against her ear. “You ever been ass-fucked, Beth?”
“No.”
“Anal virgin. What a treat. I won’t hurt you, I promise.”
“I don’t think you can promise that.” The idea of his big cock sinking into her most private place wasn’t one she’d have put high on her to-do list. But she’d had a friend at college who’d said it was a great feeling, that her boyfriend adored it and they both came really hard.
“Well, okay, might hurt the first bit, but not once we get going. Then you’ll be in fucking heaven, baby.” He kissed down her neck, pushed her hair aside and set his lips on her shoulder, giving her small, sweet, pecking kisses. “Yeah, I’m going to fuck your ass, your pretty ass, your…Rammada ass.” He sat up suddenly, lifting his hand from her buttocks. “What the fuck!”
Shit!
Automatically, she scooped her hair back over her tattoo.
“No.” He grabbed it, bundled it into a rough ponytail and yanked hard. “Too fucking late, I’ve seen it. What the hell is this? Some kind of weird trap?”
“Ow, no, get off.” She moved with her hair, going onto all fours as he continued to pull.
“I don’t believe you, bitch. What’s a Rammada doing in New York? What the fuck do you want from me?”
“How do you even know what that tattoo is?” She tried to look at him, but he had such a grip on her, pulling her hair almost from the roots.
“How could I not?”
“Perhaps you need to come clean with me.” She fisted the sheets and curled her toes. His hold on her hurt. “Your family is from Chicago, isn’t it? That’s the only way you’d know that’s a Rammada tat.”
He released her and stepped away.
She ran her fingers over her scalp, trying to override the pain, and sat, spinning to face him.
“This is how. This is fucking how.” He turned, jabbing his finger over his left shoulder as he did so. “See that? Recognize that, Rammada girl?”
For a moment, everything seemed to move in slow motion. She did indeed recognize the tattoo on his left shoulder blade. It was of an angel, her wings spread, and wearing a crown of thorns that had pierced her brow. Blood trickled down her face, her naked chest and all the way to her toes where it dripped off. Beneath her feet was the word Hermanus.
“You’re a Hermanus?” she said, the word sticking in her throat.
“Yeah, I’m a fucking Hermanus, but you knew that, right?” he shouted. “That’s why you wormed your way into my apartment into my fucking bed.” He turned and gestured to the rumpled sheets.
Her mind was still reeling. The Hermanus family was one of her father’s biggest rivals. They’d hated each other for years and warred over the same territory. From what she could remember, though, lives hadn’t been taken. Or at least, at this moment in time, she hoped not.
“So, explain yourself,” he said, tightening the towel around his waist and ramming his hands on his hips. His body was tense, the muscles in his abdomen ridged and his shoulders set wide.
“What is there to explain?” She held up her palms. “You approached me, remember? For all I know, you knew exactly who I was back then, lured me into your apartment and are now taking me somewhere to be used as bait for my father, or worse still to seek revenge on him by hurting me.”
“How the hell would I have known who you were? You’re were just some…” He flicked his hand at her. “Some dirty fucking kid sitting on the street corner who looked like she could do with a meal.”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I was.” She reached for the sheet, pulled it up and covered her nakedness.
He scowled and took a step closer to her.
“So are you…”
“Am I what?” he asked.
“Taking me to use as revenge.” She looked at her hands. “I kinda like my fingers.”
“Jesus Christ, you really think I’d hurt a kid?” He was breathing fast.
“I’m not a kid, as you well know.”
He turned and stalked to the wall, pressed his palms on it and leaned forward, staring at the floor.
She studied his broad back—marked with enemy ink—and the gutter of his spine and the way the towel hugged his butt.
Was it really just a coincidence they’d met? Had fate thrown such a curve ball at them?
“Of course I didn’t know who you were,” he said in a scarily calm voice. “And no, I’m not taking you anywhere except to Toronto to see your mother. But I don’t think I should come anywhere near your fucking family.”
She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. “We haven’t…you know…your brothers?”
He stood tall and turned. “You mean have Rammadas spilled our blood?”
She nodded, once, fast. That was exactly what she meant.
“No. We’ve never got along, and there’s been lots of hate. But my brothers didn’t die at the hands of a Rammada.”
“Good. You know… that it wasn’t us.”
He folded his arms. Unfolded them. For once, he appeared jittery, not in full control.
It unnerved her. “My brother died, too, you know.”
“Tommy Rammada.”
She nodded again. Hearing his name twisted her heart. She missed him so much.
“That was a Batiste.” He touched his scar. “They had a hit on him since he took out Kane Junior.”
She looked away, hating that murder was such a matter-of-fact part of their lives. It also wasn’t new information to her.
Suddenly, he was in front of her, his nose against hers. “This isn’t a coincidence, so tell me what you want.”
“Nothing. I don’t want anything?”
He gripped her upper arms. “Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not.”
He shook her. The sheet fell away. “Tell me.”
“Roper, there’s nothing to tell. I promise.” Fear shot through her. She didn’t stand a chance against him. He was big and strong and likely as mean as they got when he wanted something.
He shoved her, and she landed on her back. In an instant, he was over her, trapping her wrists above her in just one of his hands, and pressing her into the bed with his body.
She gasped and squirmed, bending her legs, writhing her hips.
He kissed her. Hard and furious. Not caring when she twisted her head from his, he continued, kissing her cheek, her neck. “Fucking bitch,” he muttered, shoving her thighs apart and settling between them.
“No, get off,” she cried. “You don’t want me. I’m a Rammada.”
“I do want you. I want to fucking fuck the Rammada out of you. Fill you up with me.”
“Roper, no.” Despite herself, she arched toward him, aware of his thick cock head at her entrance.
“You don’t mean it,” he said. “You want me, the way I want you.”
He rammed into
her, filling her with his cock, and releasing a guttural grunt.
She cried out.
“Now you’re Hermanus,” he panted. “Full of fucking”—he withdrew and pounded back in—“Hermanus. How would dear Daddy like that? Huh?” He captured her mouth with his and thrust his tongue in.
She tugged her arms, but it was no good. She was well and truly trapped; trapped and being fucked with a wildness that had a new orgasm swelling within her. God, she shouldn’t like this so much, but his dominance, his anger had turned her the hell on.
Spreading her legs wider, she bucked up to meet him. The stimulation on her clit was like nothing she’d ever felt. There were no inhibitions, no consideration. What they were doing was wild, raw, primitive. They were fucking like angry animals. Rutting against each other.
And it made her feel alive.
He rode into her, and the bed banged against the wall. She took him, took it all. She kissed him, shoving her tongue into his mouth the way he was barging into her. Claiming him as much as he was claiming her.
He thought he was fucking the Rammada out of her, well, she’d just fuck the Hermanus out of him.
“Jesus Christ,” he said, suddenly releasing her wrists and straightening his arms, so he was above her, staring down.
She grasped his shoulders, hard, digging in her nails, and banged her heels against his back. “You don’t scare me.”
“I should.” He grabbed her right leg, tugged it so it was hooked over his forearm, then did the same to the other.
The position tilted her pelvis and folded her almost double.
He drove even deeper.
She bowed her back, shut her eyes and pressed her crown into the pillow.
She was fucking a Hermanus. Not just fucking, but going at it like there was no damn tomorrow.
Her father, if he were dead, would turn in his grave. If he were still alive, he’d blow Roper’s brains out.
Yeah, right…
“If only Daddy could see you now,” Roper snarled. “His baby girl full of Hermanus cock.”
“Bastard,” she said through gritted teeth.
“I might be a bastard…but you’re loving it, and what’s more, you’re coming…” He somehow managed to pound into her with even more vigor, sending her into a spiral of ecstasy.