Cousins In Love: An Alpha Bad Boy Romance (Book 3)

by Lisa Lang Blakeney

  "Didn't I tell you to text me the time of the train?"

  He immediately pulls his fingers completely out of me.

  I exhale harshly, "Yes."

  "So why didn't you?"

  He completely unhooks my bra and tosses it across the room. Which I laugh shortly to myself about. Why his belongings get neatly folded and placed down, and mine get thrown across the room is a conversation for later.

  He begins kneading my breasts with both of his strong hands, making sure that his thumbs caress my nipples the way I like assuming this will get him the answers he's looking for.

  "I–"

  "You what?" he interrupts.

  "I was trying to surprise you."

  "Bullshit."

  His massage grows stronger and deeper. Then he pinches one of my nipples tightly between the pads of his thumb and pointer finger. The mixture of pressure and pain feels exquisite.

  "I–"

  "The truth between us always. Isn't that what we've always said?"

  His hands drop from my breasts completely, and he walks a few steps away from in between my legs. I immediately miss his warmth.

  He's watching me intensely, sort of how he used to when we first met. Looking into my eyes for some sort of explanation or answer I haven't given him yet. I panic for a moment that he can see that I'm keeping things from him. That I am not being totally truthful, but then I quickly talk myself down. There's no way. I'm just being paranoid. I've got to get a grip. There's no way he could know about the email or Shrek. Even if he did find out, what's the big deal? I try to rationalize. It's my business to tell, not his to know.

  "I was pissed, all right?"

  His lips turn up a bit. "Ah, there it is. Honesty. So you were pissed at me?"

  "Yes."

  "And are you still a little pissed with me?"

  "Yes," I respond firmly.

  "Why?"

  "You cut me off."

  "I didn't think you wanted to have any more conversations with someone as stupid as me."

  I roll my eyes.

  "I'm sorry okay? I just blurted it out, and later I tried apologizing repeatedly for it. Which is a bit ridiculous by the way, because you never seem to apologize for anything dumb that you say or do."

  "What have I done that I need to apologize for?" he asks as he moves forward again and lifts me off of the table and onto my feet as if I weigh nothing.

  He immediately bends down on his knees before me, and begins to gently pull down my leggings. Then he taps my ankle when he's ready for me to lift each foot to step out of them. I can't even think straight when Roman is down on his knees like this, because I know what's going to come next, and I'm going to like it a whole lot.

  "I asked you a question, Duchess."

  I try my best to keep my mind on the conversation at hand, and not on the fact that his breath is dancing across my breasts when he speaks. Not to mention that once again he's flung a piece of my clothing across the room.

  Complete honesty? Well I've already broken that agreement, but I guess I can give him a little of the truth.

  "You act like a bratty two-year-old when I tell you something you don't want to hear, and you never apologize for it."

  "Explain," he orders as he plants tender kisses on my hipbone.

  "I don't want to talk about it now, Roman."

  I’d rather he concentrate on what he's doing so well right now.

  "Who did you say?"

  "Masterson," I moan as my heart begins thundering inside of my chest in anticipation. "I meant Masterson."

  "So when do you want to talk about it?"

  "After."

  "After what?"

  "After you give me what I need."

  That statement gets me a genuine smile from him.

  "And what do you need, Duchess?"

  Roman gives a stellar massage, and his powerful hands begin working my butt cheeks. I probably would come right now if I didn't have superior mind control. That and the fact that he'd probably make me pay for it for the rest of the night. He still loves to control every last one of my orgasms. Both of us know that I will lose that game each and every single time. Which is precisely the point.

  "Your mouth all over me."

  I barely get the words out before Roman flattens his tongue and licks my slit until he reaches the hot core with three very long, broad strokes. Just enough to make me quiver, but not quite enough to send me over the top. He knows my body so well and strums it just like a fine instrument.

  "And does your greedy little pussy care about what I need?" he asks with gravel and grit to his voice.

  "Yes," I pant.

  "Yes, what?"

  "Yes, Masterson."

  "Well right now I need to see it. Inspect it. Examine it. Make sure nobody else has been touching what's mine."

  I'm aching now.

  His possessive words making me crazy with need.

  "What would you like me to do, Masterson?"

  "Very nice." He pats my right butt cheek in approval. "Spread your legs shoulder width apart."

  Roman begins to run his hands up and down my legs as if he's conducting a real inspection. He spreads my labia apart, kisses my clit, then maneuvers his head around me and kisses the side of my hip. Then he moves farther away from me and gives me another order.

  "Pull your hair down out of that bun, turn around, and place your palms flat on the table."

  I immediately do as he says.

  "Very nice, but spread your legs a little farther apart."

  After I adjust myself, I rest my head and arms on top of the table, keeping my butt high and my legs spread apart.

  "Did I say you could get comfy? Head up. Ass up. Legs apart. Let me see your greedy cunt."

  "Roman–" I try to protest.

  Whack!

  He slaps me across the butt with an open palm. I wasn't expecting it so it startles me, but the vibration of it ripples through my body and sends every hair on my body on high alert.

  "I think you're confused, Elizabeth," he grinds the words out through his teeth. "I haven't seen you in two damn weeks. You don't tell me when you're coming home, when I asked you very nicely by the way to text me your arrival time. You come home in a cab, laughing and shit like you're at the end of a damn date, and now you're trying be a lazy fuck? I don't think so."

  He whacks me again.

  This one's even harder and goes straight to my clit.

  And before I can get three words out of my mouth in protest, his mouth descends upon my pussy. Licking, sucking and biting me rapidly to the first orgasm I've had from his touch in two weeks.

  Needless to say, this is one major damn orgasm. The contraction of my uterus is so powerful, that it renders me speechless for a moment. Breathless. And I begin to see small flickering lights behind my eyelids, much like the quick bursts of light of a camera flash. And that's when the dizziness starts. Almost like I have vertigo. The objects in the room start to liquefy. I quickly grab the sides of the table to steady myself.

  "Duchess?" I hear concern in his voice.

  I blink my eyes several times and take a moment to catch my breath.

  "I'm okay," I assure him.

  His hand slides up my back and to the back of my neck then back down to my waist. He uses both hands to gently turn me around, and lift me back up on the table. Instinctually I spread my legs.

  "Good girl. Now put your legs around my waist." His voice is heavy and raspy as I clasp my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck.

  "Who do you belong to, Elizabeth?" He looks deep in my eyes. Willing the answer from my lips.

  "You. Only you."

  Then he slides home exactly where he belongs.

  Inside of me.

  My mouth gapes open. He almost seems thicker than I remember.

  "You're so fucking tight." He groans in appreciation.

  "Oh my God," I say harshly.

  It doesn't take much longer for Roman to rock and stroke me into a
nother earth shattering orgasm and almost into tears. It's going to be a long night. I can tell that he's not even close to being finished with me.

  "Welcome home, Duchess," he says. "Now turn over."

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  ELIZABETH

  I hear a raised male voice, rumbling sentences heavily laced with expletives regarding something about compromised contract negotiations, lawyers and disrespect. While the words are being delivered in a purposefully harsh manner, the texture of the voice is sand and stone; it makes my body ache in a delicious way. A pleasantly familiar way.

  The voice belongs to the man who is a very important part of my daily life, or perhaps rather an essential part. Like breathing. A man who's in his office (the spare room of my home), talking on his cell phone at a decibel level much louder than necessary. Practically barking.

  For a split second I worry that Roman's bad mood could be a result of him knowing that I've been keeping secrets, but then I quickly come to my senses and realize that there's no way he would know about either of those incidences and not have said something to me by now. It's just my guilt messing with me.

  I have to remember that while Roman usually speaks volumes with few words, that he definitely has his moments when he clearly just wants to be heard. He gets loud from time to time when he's frustrated or trying to make a point with people. Certain people. But what can be intimidating or brash to some is in fact quite comforting to me. His brand of bravado lets me know without a doubt that he's here and that he is as they say "in the building". His personality fills the room of my home from corner to corner, ceiling to floor. I think it's one of the many things that women find attractive about Roman. It's definitely one of the things that attracted me to him.

  Not much has changed since I've returned from Penn-Washington. I haven't called Ethan per his terse request, and I also haven't seen Shrek again. I have done a little digging online, but I don't see anything remotely current in Ethan's Facebook stream, so I think I was overreacting. I must let this whole subject rest. I'm creating more stress in my life where there doesn't need to be any.

  My relationship with my parents is still strained, and I don't really see that improving in the near future. Even after my recent visit home, they still aren't open to having Roman visit over the upcoming holidays, which is a deal breaker for me.

  Roman hasn't mentioned the letter from his mother again, and he certainly hasn't made a move to go over to the house and ask Joseph to read it. So I'm probably going to have to talk to Juliette about that. Sometimes he just needs a little push.

  Unfortunately Roman still doesn't like Blake, and every time I ask him to give me a good reason why, it only makes him hate him more. In fact, I'm pretty sure that Roman's crappy mood right this second is because I'm working in the living room with Blake; and knowing him, we may have laughed a little too loudly or a little too long for his liking.

  It doesn't take much for my guy to become all blustery when it comes to my spending time with Blake, but I'm getting used to his comments now. I attribute his behavior to Roman just being Roman. A little crazy in the head. Definitely possessive. Somewhat unpolished. And a beautifully, flawed man whom I simply adore. Faults and all.

  Things would be easier though, if I could get Roman to change his mind about my one and only employee. Blake has been nothing but a Godsend to me over the last few months. Not only has he cleaned up some of the messy code of my previous freelancers, and has come to the table with some great ideas of his own for further development of the brand and promotion of the app; but he's also picked up and moved here so that we can continue to work as a real team.

  I'm going to give things with him a few more months, and if we're still working this well together, I may even consider making him my partner. He could definitely help me take School Bucks to the next level. He sees the big picture in the same sort of way that I do, and I don't mind sharing the profits with someone who also shares my vision. Especially because I know he could handle the demands of the job. In another world, a guy like Blake would be my boss, not the other way around. I know Roman will probably hate the idea, but one thing I'm perfecting as the weeks and months go by is the delicate art of loving Roman Masterson. And trust me, there's an art to it.

  "Seems like your guy is having some sort of heated negotiation in there," Blake says with a tinge of curiosity in his voice. Not fear though. Interestingly enough, Blake may be one of the only men I've run across who doesn't seem the least bit intimidated by Roman.

  I like that. It means his feathers won't be so ruffled when Roman eventually says something wildly inappropriate to him. Which hasn't happened yet, but I know it's coming.

  "Yeah," I laugh off his observation casually. "Excuse me for a moment, Blake. Let me go speak with him for a moment."

  "No problem." He smiles brightly. "I'll work on this segment of the database until you get back."

  I smile in return. "Cool, I shouldn't be long."

  All right, so I'm not even going to lie. There is something about my new, calmly cool, employee, which is definitely attractive or should I say appealing. He's tall with long lean muscles, and a head full of lush, dirty blond hair which he usually wears loose or in a messy ponytail. Definitely reminiscent of a Viking as Sloan pointed out.

  He also has this pair of distinctive, beautiful gray eyes that always look like they're processing information. I think his eyes mirror a mixture of his very funny personality and his exceptional brain, and if I had an older sister, I'd definitely hook her up with him. He's boyfriend material for sure. Not high-powered or polished enough for Sloan though, which is why I haven't even bothered trying to hook them up. And for some reason, Tiny hasn't returned any of my texts for the last week. Sometimes she just goes radio silent, so I haven't been able to make the introduction I wanted to make between the two of them.

  I rap on the door to Roman's office as a polite gesture, but then I walk in without waiting for a response. Ultimately it's my house, and he's being disrespectful. My defenses are up, because I know he's itching for a fight, one that will end up with me spread eagle and begging for release. And they always begin with that turned up mouth of his. A cocky grin that I'm sure has worked it's voodoo magic on many an unsuspecting woman. Now it's especially reserved for me.

  "Elizabeth," he greets me then turns his head and gives whoever he's on the phone with a curt good-bye. "We'll finish this later."

  "Why are you so loud?" I start in on him as soon as he ends the call. Picking the fight first is my strategic offensive play.

  "I needed to be loud in order to drown out all the fucking giggles coming from the living room."

  "You're ridiculous." I huff.

  "You're a flirt."

  "Well you're an ass."

  "So you're admitting that you're a flirt then?"

  "No, jerk off. I'm not."

  "You're pushing it with the name calling."

  I say with defiance, "Not as hard as you're pushing things."

  "Strip." He playfully grins. I'm pretty sure he's laughing at the fact I used the words hard and pushing in the same sentence. He has such a dirty mind.

  "No."

  "What did you just say?"

  "I said absolutely not, Roman." I get serious for a moment. "I'm not stripping. In case you didn't realize, I'm working, and the person I'm working with is literally ten feet away from this frackin' door. If you think I'm going to–"

  "That's why you're going to be as quiet as a mouse, while I take care of your little giggle problem. In fact let's make this interesting. If you come on my face, real quiet like, I'll buy you a matching Rover, so you can stop taking those damn Uber cars. They don't even screen those drivers properly. They're probably all serial rapists."

  "You need a therapist," I say only semi-seriously.

  "For what?" he rhetorically asks me as he slowly backs me into a corner of the room.

  I throw up my hand in defense of his approach.

  "I can help you f
ind one at a reasonable rate if money is the issue," I jest.

  "Is there something wrong with me asking my girl to strip?" he asks while gesturing to me with a head nod to raise my arms, but I hold steady and refuse.

  Roman often uses sex as a power play, and sometimes I give in because I get just as much pleasure out of it as he does, but then there are times that I just have to stand my ground if I'm ever going to get anything done.

  Like work.

  I usually try to make sure that Blake isn't in my house when I know Roman is going to come by, but today it didn't work out that way. So I give him a silent but firm head shake no.

  "No?" he growls dipping his head into the side of my neck.

  "Uh-uh." I try my best to answer with conviction as I close my eyes in rapture. "I only came in here to tell you to keep it down. We both need to respect each other's space if we're ever going to work in here at the same time."

  Of course while I'm putting up all this verbal protest, I clasp my hands around the back of Roman's neck as he burrows his head farther into the side of my neck. I can't help it; because I love the way my body vibrates when he speaks against my skin.

  "You look fucking spectacular today, Duchess. This tight skirt." He slides his palm up the side of my thigh. "This fuzzy cream sweater." Brushing the backs of his fingers across my waist underneath my sweater. "No wonder captain nerd can't stop laughing at every fucking thing you say out there. He's probably mesmerized by your pretty ass."

  "Why does everyone I know have to be a nerd in your eyes except for you?" I ask amused.

  "Is that actually a serious question?"

  "Oh, shut up."

  "I know men, Duchess."

  "And? I'm not sure what that has to do with my question, but now that we're on the subject, let's discuss it real quickly. I'm going to ask again. What's your problem with Blake? You're the one who wanted me to hire an employee. Hell, you bought me this apartment, so I could have space to make it happen. So now that I have, you haven't given him a single chance. You met him once and now you won't even talk to him for five minutes. I already know nothing came up in your investigation."