Around us, both dogs clattered over the wooden floor, the scent of coffee permeated the air, and I supported my entire life in my arms.
It was damn good to be home.
Rimmel
There was nothing like being kissed by Romeo.
Trying to explain what he did to me was like trying to describe just how big the universe really was.
It was impossible.
There was power in his kiss. The kind of power that left not one inch of me untouched. The unfiltered authority and hunger in his body reached deep, beckoning every last piece of me, no matter how small.
We weren’t strangers to one another anymore. The years we’d shared made sure of that. Now my body knew him, understood exactly how to fit against chest, exactly how far to tilt back to allow him in the deepest. I relished the roughness of his tongue versus the silkiness of his lips and the low growling sounds he always made when we’d been apart awhile but were finally back together.
Romeo was never in a hurry when he kissed. He always took his fill of me, but never without giving everything he got. He only drew back when he sensed I was no longer really present. Instead, I was drowning in the depths of the tangled web he’d woven me in.
With immediate protest, my body followed his as he eased away. Even though his mouth didn’t lower again, the arms around me tightened, bringing me even closer, causing extra friction at my center when it rubbed against his toned waist. My teeth bit into my lower lip, and he laughed beneath his breath.
Romeo knew the exact effect he had on me. I couldn’t hide it if I tried (good thing I never tried).
He carried me through the kitchen, past the massive, muted-turquoise island and under the stone archway to the wide sliding glass doors that opened onto the deck. He whistled as he walked, and both dogs clambered along after him.
When they were outside and the brisk autumn air mingled with the warmer air around us, he moved swiftly, catching me off guard and shaking loose some of the after make-out haze I was still wrapped in.
My back hit the glass door, and I made a sound because even through the sweats, I felt the cool temperature of the glass. It woke me up, and despite the chill in the air, my blood began to simmer.
Romeo used his large, powerful body to pin me there, my legs still wound tight around his waist. Both his substantial hands flattened on the glass on either side of my head, and I shivered in anticipation. I liked being surrounded by him.
He always made me feel entirely shielded, and it was his protective streak that called to me on a wholly basic level. Maybe it was because I’d often felt weak in life; maybe it was because I’d always been so in control of how I lived… It didn’t matter.
I loved it.
When I was with him like this, I didn’t mind being small. I didn’t even mind feeling a little weak. His protection, the way his large body hovered over mine in the most intimate and promising way, was addictive.
I sensed rather than saw his fingers flex against the glass, and my tongue glided out to wet my lips while his bright-blue eyes gazed at me as if they’d never seen me before.
“I don’t like being away from you, Smalls,” he said, gruff.
“You’re here now,” I whispered.
He pushed the glasses up off my face, over my head like a headband, then returned his hands to the glass. His hips thrust upward, and my body slid up the door. My hands moved to his shoulders, my fingertips digging in.
“I got you, baby,” he vowed, leaning in to nuzzle my neck.
He must have thought I was gripping him for balance or worry I’d somehow end up on the floor. I wasn’t. I was holding on because the sensation of the stiffest part of him teasing the softest part of me left me reeling.
Goose bumps prickled my scalp as Romeo’s lips whispered over my neck. The full width of his tongue licked slowly beneath my ear, causing my head to fall back.
“Why are we still down here?” I half moaned.
“If we lived alone, I’d take you right here, right now,” he replied, scraping his teeth over my earlobe. “I’d press your naked body against this wall of glass and leave behind not only our fingerprints, but smudges from every last part of you.”
My lips vibrated. Images of what he just spoke of flashed behind my eyelids, so vibrant and vivid it was almost like a show of lights. The grip my thighs had on his waist went slack. I didn’t stiffen or try to recover. There was no need. He took my weight with ease, pulling us back off the door and striding through the house to the stairs.
Up in our room, he kicked the door closed and once again pinned me against the wall. This time, my shirt was ripped away, and his lips fixed onto my breast with skin-searing warmth.
I sighed and gripped his head, pushing him closer as I arched into his ministrations and whispered for him to suck deeper. He did, and pleasant pain bloomed at my core; little twinges of desire jolted between my legs and sent shockwaves into my lower abs.
Eventually, he relinquished my flesh, and I sank toward the floor in a quivering mass of give-me-an-orgasm-now. I made it to my knees before recovering enough to hook my fingers in his waistband and relieve him of everything covering his lower half.
His cock jutted from his center, and I wrapped my hand around it as he groaned and kicked away his pants. He was hard and unbending beneath my palm, silky smooth and ready. I pumped the wide length, noting the way his balls drew up before I leaned forward and took him deep.
He murmured something as I sucked, and I pulled back only enough to lick across his head. My fingers dug into the sides of his hips, and I picked up the pace, driving my lips over his throbbing cock and enjoying the slightly salty flavor coating my tongue.
When he started to draw away, I released his quivering cock and pushed it up against his abdomen. My lips caressed the underside of his balls and licked up the interior of his thigh.
Seconds later, his hands slipped under my arms and lifted. In seconds, I was eye level with him, like it wasn’t even work to hold me so high.
He searched my eyes, both his blue irises bouncing between my brown ones. Even though my vision was slightly blurred, I knew what he was searching for. I wanted to give it to him. I craved it.
Still, a part of me held back.
It wasn’t a fun thing to be at war with oneself. It didn’t matter who won, because a part of me would still lose.
“Rimmel?” he asked. It was a question I knew well now. One I hated, yet I loved him for it.
I swallowed, staring at my husband, so desperate to say yes but unable to form the word. Almost imperceptibly, I shook my head.
“I love you,” he replied immediately. My feet hit the floor with gentle care, and one hand left me when he reached for the sweats he’d kicked off only moments before.
Always prepared.
That was Romeo, always ready to give me exactly what I needed.
What about his needs?
I felt myself slipping deep, away from him and this moment and into the prison of my own mind. I felt a tug on my hips and glanced up. Romeo was sitting in a nearby chair, the throw pillows already scattered at his feet.
I smiled because he was too impatient to go just a few feet more to the bed. His impatience brought me back to the moment. When I was completely naked, I straddled his bare thighs. I closed my palm over his head, giving it a light squeeze. His eyes flared, and he ripped open the foil packet he’d just fished out of his sweats with his teeth.
I watched Romeo roll the latex down over his cock, and a hint of sadness washed over me.
“Hey,” he murmured, lifting my chin with the backs of his fingers. “I missed you so goddamn much.”
I smiled at the husky quality to his words. My glasses were lost somewhere in my shirt, but I didn’t have to see clearly to recognize the heavy spell my husband was under.
I might be a small girl, but right now, I wielded a lot of power. Even if there was a condom between us.
Slightly calloused hands settled on my hips as
I slid down over his length with serious care. I liked this part, when he first entered me. Inch by inch, my body accepted him, stretching so my inner walls sheathed him with the perfect amount of pressure. Romeo’s body went slack against the back of the chair, and I began to move. At first I slid up and down with slow, methodic movements, essentially teasing us both, but then I needed more.
With one swift movement, I sank all the way down, taking him as deep into my core as I could and holding him there. Romeo’s palms moved to my thighs and squeezed. I rocked slightly.
My moan filled the room. I loved him this deep. I loved the way he felt rubbing against my inner walls, against that tender spot deep inside.
My forehead dropped to his shoulder, and I moaned again. With a jolt of energy, Romeo took over, surging up and rocking into that magic spot. All the muscles in my body tensed; I wanted release, searched for it.
“Romeo,” I begged, climbing just a little closer against him.
He didn’t say anything. He just tilted up a fraction more, and mind-numbing pleasure stole all thought and reason from my body. I shuddered over him, wave after wave of ecstasy poured through me, and his cock began pulsing. My name ripped from his lips, and his hands tangled in my hair.
We rode the waves together. When I began to come down, I continued gently rocking in his lap until Romeo fell back with a sigh. My cheek pillowed against his chest, both his arms locked around me, and I rested against him, listening to the sound of his erratic heartbeat.
I wished we could stay like this forever.
Of course, no moment, no matter how sweet or sour, lasted that long.
Tenderly, he lifted my body, and I made a sound of protest.
“I know, sweetheart. Hang on.”
Instead of setting me aside, he adjusted and hugged me close for long moments, then pushed up out of the chair, taking me with him. On his way to the bathroom, I was deposited on the end of our luxurious bed. After pressing a kiss to my forehead, he disappeared into the other room to clean himself up.
Alone, my previous haunting thoughts returned. How ironic that I sat in the center of this beautiful room, during a beautiful moment of my beautiful life. I had more than I ever dreamed possible, more than I ever thought to ask for…
Yet still…
Still I sat here and wished for something I didn’t have.
It seemed such a shameful waste. How much longer was I going to do this? How much longer would Romeo continue to ask what I wanted before he gave up completely and just stopped asking?
I thought I was getting better. Actually, getting better was a crappy way of putting it. I wasn’t sick. I didn’t have an illness like strep throat or an infection some pill would chase away.
What I had was a chronic condition for which there was no cure. A gaping hole where part of me used to be. I didn’t want that hole to close up, because it was all I had left. So even though I tried to “move on,” part of me still clung to that place, because the second I let go, I would have nothing.
So yeah, every single day, I put one foot in front of the other. I combed my hair (okay, not always), put on a smile, and dressed up my pain so no one else could see it.
What was that saying, though? One step forward, two steps back? Something like that. It seemed every time I felt a little stronger, there was always something there to challenge my strength.
I wanted to be strong. I was strong. I even wanted to move on.
There was a problem with moving on, though. In order to move on, you had to leave something behind.
How would I do that when that something was my daughter?
Romeo appeared in the doorway, and my heart squeezed. His blond hair needed a trim, which was the way it always seemed to look. I loved the way it curled up and stuck out a bit at his neck. His jaw was shadowed with light-colored stubble, as if he couldn’t be bothered to shave, so that coupled with the unruly hair gave him a roguish air this morning.
The long length of his muscled body drew my eyes. Watching his muscles work beneath his skin was fascinating. Everything about him was fierce but graceful. A few years of playing pro football had only honed his physique, making him more confident in his own skin (as if he needed additional help with that!), and in some sense, he seemed more mature.
Age, even just a few years, looked so good on Romeo. It was almost unfair the way he became more of who he already was.
Before coming to my side of the room, he flipped on the double-sided fireplace in the corner of the room (you could also see it from the bathroom), and flames flickered to life. The wall of windows was uncovered; the view of our property stretched before us, and morning light spilled into the room. Multicolored leaves floated from the trees as the fall breeze blew, and the sky was crowded with clouds, which meant the sun wasn’t blindingly bright.
Romeo started flinging pillows all over the room, and I sighed. “I just made the bed.”
“You knew I was coming home,” he pointed out like I should have known better.
I did.
I just liked watching him sling them around.
When all the throw pillows were gone, he flung back the covers and slid between them. His long arm reached out and grabbed the corner of a furry blanket draped across the foot of our bed and pulled.
Since I was sitting in the center of its softness, I went with it… right into his arms. Our bodies sank into the mattress. Cool sheets and blankets cocooned us together, and Romeo’s muscular leg wedged between mine.
I lay on my back, staring up at him as he gazed down at me. We were pressed together, completely naked. His scent, masculine and clean, mingled around, so I inhaled deep.
“So what’s new around here? You know, besides R?”
“R?” I puzzled, feeling my forehead wrinkle.
“I can’t do it, Smalls.” He shook his head sadly. “I can’t call that poor dog Ralph.”
I reached up and squeezed his nipple.
“Ow!” he said dramatically, even though I knew for a fact it didn’t hurt.
“R is the name of a zombie,” I told him.
“Well, Ralph is the name of a serial killer cab driver in Brooklyn.”
I gasped. “It is not!”
His lips twitched. “I bet if I Googled it right now, I’d get a hit.”
I couldn’t help it. I laughed out loud. When my laughter died away, I noticed him watching me, his expression soft.
“What?” I prompted.
He twirled a finger in the length of my hair. “I love the sound of your laugh. I don’t hear it enough.”
A shard of pain pierced my chest. “Romeo…” I started softly, regret heavy in my tone.
“I saw the headline,” he spoke before I could say whatever I was going to say.
I glanced away. Gentle pressure wrapped around my chin and pulled my face back. “I just want to make something clear.”
I nodded.
“The only big D you’re getting from me is my dick.”
“Romeo!”
He wagged his eyebrows. “You like that? Maybe I should call the press and have them quote me.”
Oh my goodness, he was in rare form today! I pressed my lips together and shook my head quickly. Laughing would only encourage him.
“That’s one headline I’d like to read.” He gazed off into the distance as if he were in fact imagining a full news article about the impressive size of his… ah… man parts.
A giggle burst from between my lips, and he glanced down. Another leaked out, and before I knew it, I was full-on laughing again.
“Tell me about football,” I said when I could talk.
This was sort of our tradition when he came home from traveling for away games and training. He’d carry me upstairs, we’d go at each other like teenagers, and then we’d lie in bed and fill each other in on everything we missed.
Yeah, we talked every day when he was gone, but it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t the sound of his voice so close by or the expression of his feature
s when he told me about something one of his teammates did.
I’d learned a lot about football this way, and I’d also learned all the team gossip. Who knew men talked so much in the locker room?
As he talked, I pressed my palm against his chest and took in everything about him. I’d seen him a thousand times; I knew every nuance of his face intimately. Even still, watching him was never boring. There was something about Romeo no one else had.
Some people might call it magic, and I supposed that could be true. To me, though, it was more. Not everyone believed in magic, but I’d never known anyone who didn’t believe in him.
After a while, his stomach grumbled. “Someone’s hungry.” I noted.
He made a sound and pulled me closer into him.
“Coffee?” I suggested, sort of in compromise. Coffee I could do without leaving this room.
“Sounds good.” He agreed, so I slipped out of bed. The cool air brushed over my bare skin, and I shivered.
My furry white slipper boots were on the floor, so I quickly shoved my feet in them before moving off the rug across the hardwood. We had a coffee bar built into our room, and I quickly put some on to brew.
As it did, I grabbed the shirt he’d been wearing when he got home and tugged it over my head, then dug around for my glasses.
My hair was pretty ridiculous, so I pulled it up into a sloppy bun without even looking in a mirror.
I’m sure it looked really fab.
After adding some flavored creamer from the mini fridge to our mugs, I carried them over to the bed where he was propped up against the headboard, watching me. He took both mugs while I climbed back into the bed and tucked my legs beneath me.
His shirt dipped off one shoulder, exposing a lot of my skin, but I didn’t bother adjusting it. Instead, I wrapped both hands around my mug and smiled.
“Why didn’t you tell me about the article?” he asked after taking a sip.
“If I told you about every headline or article written about us, that’s all we’d ever talk about,” I retorted mildly.
#Bae (The Hashtag Series Book 8) Page 5