"We had a deal, Roman Masterson," he says as she arches her back into me farther. "Why are you acting like I enjoy leaving you?"
"If you don't like it, then don't do it." I say as I continue to knead her breasts.
Elizabeth grabs my hands to stop them from their devilish mission, turns around to face me, and looks me straight in the eyes.
"Because I could stay in this beautiful apartment, under you, every single day of the year. I could get lost in you Roman, and we both know that is not good for either of us. We both have businesses to run. We both have other relationships to nurture. We have lives outside of each other."
"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about. I have one client and no relationships I give a fuck about but this one."
You are my life.
Elizabeth smiles brightly. "You have one very high maintenance client, a very popular club to manage, and several friends who you definitely care about and who are used to seeing you everyday. You have a lot of stuff to nurture."
"I know what I have. Don't really need an inventory check from you." I pout like the little bitch I'm becoming.
"Don't be like that."
She moves in closer to me, naked, glowing, and wrapping her arms around my neck. She thinks cuddling like this is going to make me agree to anything she says, when all it's doing is making me angrier than I already was, because she's still leaving. Well making me angry and making my cock jump to full attention.
"Be like what?" I ask.
"A grump."
"If I'm a grump, it's your fault."
"My fault? It's been months that we've been together now, and I feel like for most of it, we haven't come up for air. I'm just trying to make sure we don't get sick of each other."
"Do you actually believe that shit, or is that the Glamazon talking?"
Elizabeth turns up her lips. She doesn't like me insinuating that she doesn't have a mind of her own. Either that or she hates when I speak negatively about her friend. Probably a bit of both.
"Sloan doesn't tell me how to feel, Roman. Contrary to what you may think, I do have a mind of my own and not just for computers and books. I've got plenty of common sense too. While I haven't been in many relationships, I do know that couples who see each other as much as we do run the risk of getting sick and tired of each other."
There's a rise to her voice as she fusses at me. She's trying emphatically to make her point. It's cute. Makes me want to kiss her mouth really hard, but that wouldn't solve shit right now.
"Are you sick of me?" I ask.
"Obviously not."
"Exactly, and I will never get sick of your beautiful ass either." I grab her chin. "Not possible, baby."
"I'm still leaving." Her eyes look down and away from mine. This is stupid. Her body is telling me that she doesn't want to go, but she's fighting this for some reason.
"The Glamazon is always looking for dick," I blurt out.
Her head pops up. "What's that got to do with me?"
"Men are going to think that you are too. Why else would you be hanging out at bars every Friday night? You know the saying. Birds of a feather. That's what they're going to think."
"I have no control over what your species thinks."
"You're drinking, partying, shaking your ass in something tight, and you think that's not sending a certain signal to a man? It's not like you two are staying home and watching a chick flick marathon."
"So what? I'm not supposed to ever go out again as long as you and I are together?"
As long? There she goes again with all of that temporary fucking language.
"You can go out with me. We'll dance. We'll drink. I'll even let the Glamazon tag along if you want. If you remember, I do own the hottest club in the city."
When the Kings and I left Joseph, he gave me The Lotus as a parting gift. It was the club with the most potential at the time, and now it is one of the highest grossing clubs in the metropolitan area. And we're not just killing it on money nights, but on off nights like Tuesdays and Wednesdays too.
Cutter just about peed in his pants when hip-hop artist Drake stopped by the night after the city's annual Mayor's music festival. He easily blew five grand on bottle service and tipped the waitresses really well. But the real bonus was the after effects of him visiting the club. People heard he had been there, which of course makes them hope and pray that he may come again, which in turn makes The Lotus seem all the more exclusive. The result? A line down the street.
"Is everything all right with you?" she asks reservedly.
Damn, she really thinks I'm crazy now. It's official. I've crossed into a place I'd only thought I'd heard about.
Pussy. Whipped. Ville.
"Yeah, Duchess. Everything is fine. Come here."
I pull her in for a kiss. It starts off slow and Rated PG. Soft pecks on the corners of her mouth. A lick across her lips that encourages her to part them for me. Then I plunge my tongue deep inside of her mouth and languidly caress the inside of her mouth. It's a leisurely, sexy dance of our lips, tongues and hands. It makes me want to do more and get Rated R with her real fast, but I've decided to change my course of action. I need to salvage what little dignity I have left.
I pull away from our kiss and order her to, "stand up." She already knows from my tone of voice that this will play out nicely for her if she just takes my instruction without resistance.
"Now go walk over there and stand in front of the mirror, and don't say a word. I know you're itching to say something smart."
I have a massive but sleek, silver metallic framed, floor mirror that leans against a wall in my living room. It was one of my first purchases when I moved into this place a few years ago.
I give Elizabeth a minute to walk over to the mirror and stand quietly staring at herself. She's fidgeting and totally uncomfortable. It's not that she doesn't have self-confidence, she does, but I find that most women have a problem staring at themselves nude in a mirror for an extended amount of time. Eventually they start spotting shit that they don't like or want to look at. All you have to do is closely follow the direction of their eyes and watch where they linger. It's a very quick and easy way to learn about a woman's insecurities.
I rise up and walk behind her. I tower over her so much I could easily rest my chin on the top of her head. I begin to run my hands down the side of her head, stroking her hair. I lift a few locks of her hair with my palm and gently sniff them. Like jasmine and sunshine.
"Cup your breasts," I order.
She complies albeit with some hesitation.
"Look at yourself in the mirror while you do it. Look straight ahead. If it's difficult for you then look at me in the mirror."
She looks up at me.
"Do I make you happy, Elizabeth?"
My hands begin to run down the slope of her shoulders and then continue to travel down to the dip of her waist.
"Yes," she answers with hooded eyes.
"Eyes open. Put them on me or yourself, but they need to stay open."
Her eyes pop back open, but her pupils are dilated. She wants me just as much as I want her.
"Squeeze both of your nipples with your thumbs and pointer fingers."
She complies and moans a little in the process.
"That's it, baby."
I watch as her breathing becomes a bit shallow. Her eyes fighting to stay open as she gives herself over to me. I bend down on my knees behind her, as my hands continue to travel down her hips until they've landed on her thighs. Deliberately skimming her ass and just lightly brushing by her pussy.
"Legs apart."
She spreads her legs farther apart, but I can tell that it's killing her. She wants to squeeze them together to help dull the ache between them.
"Now let me tell you what's going to happen, Duchess."
Just the words make her shut her eyes again.
"Open. Those. Eyes."
She slowly opens them again.
"So this is what's going to
happen. You're going to spread your legs apart a little bit farther apart for me."
I move my hand back and forth in between her thighs to give her some guidance as to how far apart I want them.
"Good girl. Now this is what's going to happen next. You're going to gently rub back and forth over your clit with your fingers. Can you do that for me?"
"Yes," she whimpers. It's the sexiest sound I've heard in a long time.
I allow her to do that for about a minute until I notice her hips are thrusting slightly to meet her strokes. She's going to come soon if I let this continue.
"Stop."
She does.
"Don't turn your head. Keep your eyes straight ahead on me in the mirror. I want you to look at yourself right now, Duchess. So fucking beautiful. Pussy so wet and so very damn greedy for me."
My words are sending her just a little closer to the edge.
"Do you know how beautiful you are, baby?"
She's silent. Her eyes pleading for me to shut up and just give her a much needed release. Just how I want her. Needy and only for me.
"That wasn't a rhetorical question, Elizabeth. I asked you if you know how beautiful you are?"
"I think so."
"You think so? Look again."
I catch her eyes as she stares at herself further in the mirror. She's focusing on her stomach and her hip area.
"This little pouch right here," I spread one of my palms completely across her stomach. "This pouch is going to grow all of my babies inside of it one day."
She tries to hide a small grin as she shakes her head silently no. A private joke between us. We've laughed several times over how she's scared shitless of kids, but how I plan for the two of us to have a whole damn football team or cheerleading squad.
"And these hips," I bend down again and run both of my hands along her pear shaped, hourglass figure. "Sweet Jesus. These hips. I kiss one side of her hips and then the other. There's not a man in this city that doesn't watch these hips sway from left to right when you walk by. Perfection."
She tries to hide another smile from me as I work my way up the side of her body. Kissing the curve of her waist. Raising her arm and kissing the side of her breast. Then continuing my way along the length of her arm and ending with a kiss on the inside of her wrist. Her eyes closed in rapture.
"What do you want right now?" I ask her softly.
"You inside of me."
"Well I want a whole lot of shit too, but I don't always get what I want and neither will you."
Her eyes pop open and immediately find mine in the mirror. Her irises are swarming with a mixture of question and need.
So insatiable.
"This is what's going to happen next, greedy girl. You're going to rub out your clit again, then I'm going to jam two of my fingers inside of you exactly at the moment that you need me to, and then you're going to scream my fucking name as loudly as you can. You got me?"
"Yes," she whimpers as if she's already exhausted by our exchange. I might just come in my own hand if I don't watch it.
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, Masterson."
"Do it."
It doesn't take long. Her clit is so sensitive that as soon as she starts touching herself again, her eyes roll in the back of her head. She's going to literally blow in like T minus ten seconds.
That's when I firmly slide two of my fingers inside of her pussy, bend them inside to reach her special spot, and use the other hand to smack her ass simultaneously.
"Fuck!" The moment she screams the curse word I almost come all over myself. She never uses that word. That's how good it is between us. It gets better every time.
"Who do you belong to?" I demand to know.
"Masterson." My name drifts from her lips with echoes of desperation and gratitude. "You."
She falls forward and braces her release by placing her palms flat on the mirror. This gives me easier access to her slit from the back, and I clean between her legs from front to back with several laps of my tongue. The taste is the sweet and salty flavor I've grown to crave, and it's all for me. It's all mine.
My thorough clean up job with my tongue brings my girl to an orgasm again, and now I'm so fucking horny that I sit back on my knees and heels and guide her down swiftly on my cock. I can get deep inside of her from this position, and I have to squeeze my eyes shut in blissful agony as she goes right to work and begins to slide up and down on my rigid length.
Riding me like a pro.
"Open your eyes," she orders as she watches our movements in the mirror.
Fuck if that doesn't turn me on even more. Her throwing back my command on me. Me quickly losing control and me stiffly thrusting up inside of her with a frenzied purpose.
"Aren't we beautiful?" she pants and then throws her head back to lean on me as she continues to slide home to her third orgasm of the night.
"Yes, Duchess."
So fucking pretty.
And then I come harder than I ever have in my entire life.
CHAPTER NINE
ELIZABETH
Ethan Anderson
To: Elizabeth Hill
Re: Hey
Call me: 215-555-8532
We need to meet about something.
Ethan
CHAPTER TEN
ELIZABETH
I love the Philadelphia skyline at sunset. It's an awesome sight to behold if you're perched in the right location. I love to observe the tranquil swirls of pink, purple and blue all intertwining with each other as the end of another day approaches. Especially against the backdrop of oak and maple trees that are over one hundred years old as well as buildings, which are even older than that.
Unfortunately Roman likes to watch this beautiful sight when he goes for a run, and he's brought me along today. He keeps assuring me that he loves my voluptuous hips, thighs and butt, but I feel like he's purposely making me run off every calorie I consume any chance he gets. Whether we're running, walking Mr. Tibbs, or having amazing sex, I feel like I'm always breaking a sweat whenever he's involved.
The exercise has been good for me though. It's been helping me think; because the email I received from Ethan the other day has been weighing heavily on my mind. I'm not sure what to do about it, so I've erred on the side of caution and have done absolutely nothing. Not until I'm sure what the best course of action is.
Roman, Mr. Tibbs, and I have finished our run and have collectively made it back to the Rover where I have a picnic dinner packed for us in the trunk. His idea, because he's the best boyfriend, not to mention that I'm always talking about picnics. I brought along a cold pesto pasta salad and wine for us, and a pack of half-frozen, raw chicken gizzards for Mr. Tibbs.
Roman drives us a little farther down the path of the drive where there's a nice area for us to spread a blanket. We have our pick of locations, because there's no one here due to the fact that it's the middle of October. Even though it's a record breaking warm day, no one has a picnic in October in Philly ... except for us.
I feel a little rushed to eat, because the sun sets pretty fast at this time of year, and I don't want to have to munch on my penne in the dark. We were actually supposed to be back here before the sun set so that we could set up the picnic, but I had to stop too many times to catch my breath during the run. Running is definitely not my exercise of choice, but Roman swears by it, so I promised him I'd try. I can't even lie, once it's over, it feels really good, and I'm glad that I did it. It's just the entire time during the run that sucks.
"You did good today, baby. Your time was better than the last."
I don't believe a word he's saying.
"If you say so."
"I swear that if you give it thirty days that you'll love it. It will help you write better code. The whole mind, body connection thing is real, Duchess."
"Thank you, Dr. Masterson," I say facetiously.
He playfully swats me on my butt, and after we finish our last few bites of pasta, Roman lies down on his ba
ck and I lie next to him with my head on his bare chest. I find it utterly amazing and rude as hell how women walking by us on the trail are gawking specifically at Roman, as if I'm not laying all over him. Like I'm invisible.
I try not to think about it much, but I've never been with a guy that garners this much attention from women. I mean Ethan could pull in the sorority girls for sure, but Roman is on a whole other level. Women of all ages, all ethnicities, all sizes take notice of him.
There are a million reasons why. He towers over most women. He has beautiful ink across his back. He looks formidable, and delicious, and sexy, and when he walks into a room he owns it. It's a good thing I'm confident about our relationship, or else I'd be one of those crazy stalker girlfriends who checks everything from email to Instagram everyday. Although now that I'm thinking about all the women who drool all over him, I can't help but start a conversation most women eventually have with their men. Today it's our turn to have it.
"When did you first have sex?"
"Oh so we're having that conversation," he says as the low vibration of his words tickles my eardrums.
"Yep."
He chuckles.
"I was thirteen."
"Wow." I lift my head to look at him in slight shock.
"Put your head back down and keep me warm. I don't have on a shirt, remember."
"Put one on then."
"I don't need a shirt when I have you. Now lay back down while I tell you my story."
I lay my head back down on his powerful chest and wrap one of my arms around his middle. I could stay like this all day. Listening to the steady beat of his heart makes me feel so connected and so safe.
"Mmm, that's better," he says while playing in my hair. "Okay, so you have to understand, I was a mature thirteen-year-old. I'd been practically taking care of myself for years."
"Were you scared to have sex for the first time?"
"Shit yeah, but only because I was afraid of getting caught by her daddy."
"What do you mean?"
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