Chapter Eighteen
Roman
I can’t believe I finally have my girl back. Having her in my life was the only thing that kept me going all those years when my old man was beating the shit out of me. She made me forget about my crappy life and the way my father made me feel like less of a man. And with the way she’s looking at me now, I’ve never felt more masculine.
My balls tighten when she suddenly shoves me down to my back. A little black thong is the only thing covering her creamy skin, and I had planned to take my time tasting it all before yanking the material down with my teeth. But she whips my robe open, only momentarily feasting her eyes on my hard cock before she climbs over me and lines things up.
I grab her by the hips before she sinks down. “Wait. I want to make sure you’re fucking ready for me.”
“Trust me, I’m ready.”
Her little fingers guide my hand down between her legs, sinking my fingertips into her wet warmth. I groan through clenched teeth, slipping my fingers farther into her slickness. There’s no doubt she’s ready.
“I want to taste you first,” I insist. “I want to make you come.”
She lifts my pointer and middle finger, pushing them past my lips. A sweet, intoxicating taste lingers. “You’ll make me come when you’re filling me with that giant cock.”
Then her mouth seals over mine and she’s slipping down around my shaft, so warm and tight it’s like I’m taking her virginity a second time. As much as I want to believe she was saving herself for our eventual reunion , I know it’s a fool’s dream and I’m not dumb enough to ask if there’s a reason I should use a condom. There was no mention of birth control or STDs, but I never ride bare with groupies. Belle’s the only woman who ever had me that way.
The stark contact of our connection is enough that I have to pinch the base of my dick to stop myself from shooting in her straight off.
She draws back, her brow furrowed. “What’s wrong?”
“You feel too fucking good,” I grumble. “I’m not going to last long.”
I wrap her in my arms and flip her around to lay on her back. She tries to wiggle free, but I hold her down with one hand as I sink down between her legs. “This will help draw it out,” I say with a dark growl. “But barely.”
But suddenly she’s out from beneath me and on all fours, wagging her creamy ass, and I can’t hold back any longer. Gripping her hips, I slam into her from behind, watching her full breasts jiggle beneath her as she fists the sheets.
With a final strained cry, I release Belle and she folds down to the mattress. I fall down beside her with a hand on my chest, trying to catch my breath. At this pace, I won’t have to put any time in at the gym while on tour.
“That was well worth the wait,” she comments with a quiet laugh.
“Don’t do that,” I warn, rolling on my side to face her. “Don’t make light of the shit we went through.”
Drawing her eyes away, she slips down from the monster-sized bed with the sheet wrapped around her breasts. The smile on her face looks forced, like she’s only doing it for my benefit. It’s a sad attempt at happiness, and it makes my stomach churn.
“I’m going to shower. Your burger’s going to need reheating.”
As she exits the room, I try like hell to piece together what I could’ve done wrong.
Belle isn’t beside me when I wake to a fucking bright room. The night before she took so long in the shower that I fell asleep by the time she was finished. I woke once in the night and pulled her close, but could feel her resistance even in her sleep. Something changed after we had sex. I just hope like hell she hasn’t changed her mind about the tour. Nothing about last night’s performance could’ve gone more smoothly, and it meant everything to have her there.
I slip into a pair of boxers and a shirt before padding into the main area. The damn place is big enough to host a party for three hundred people. Why the hell Reggie thought we’d need anything other than a big bed baffles me, but his uncle gave him a good deal. I could care less where I spent the night, as long as it was with Belle.
I find her at the bar on the other end of the room. In a baggy tank top, she’s curled into herself on a stool, inked arms wrapped around her legs and chin resting on her knees. Her dark hair’s messy and sexy as fuck. I think she might be crying until I see her thumb scrolling over her phone’s screen.
“Hey,” I call out to her. “How long have you been up?”
She lifts one shoulder dismissively. “Couldn’t sleep.”