“Love me.” She breathed into his mouth. “Now.”
He didn’t balk at the demand; he obeyed it, using his hold on her waist to raise her higher and slide home. Jules moaned at the first contact his cock made with her warm, tight pussy. He did too, fighting past the pleasure to keep his eyes open and watch the way Jules threw her head back against the wall, arching herself into his thrust.
“Do it,” she pleaded, her voice low and husky with sex, leaving no room for argument. “Love me, Romeo. Hard. Make me feel it for a month.” Not fuck me, love me.
They were there, at that point where neither of them was denying what had been blatantly obvious for a while now. They’d fallen in love somewhere between Vegas and Garnet. Through the million phone calls, texts, and video chats, something had pushed them over the edge, and it felt too fucking amazing at the moment to scare him.
And he loved her just as she told him to, thrusting the rest of the way in, forcing her to gasp from the intensity of it. Then he pulled out and did it again before she could catch her breath. A third time and there was a catch in Jules’s voice, a cry of ecstasy as she panted, “Yes!” Nails dug into his shoulders, her hold on him tight and fierce as she met him halfway, angling her hips to make the slide of skin against skin white-hot and fluid. Even still, she tilted her chin up, wheezing past the pleasure to demand, “Kiss me.”
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He kissed her, his tongue thrusting into her mouth, his dick sliding into her body, over and over, the momentum rising as they pushed closer and closer to the edge. They gave each other exactly what they needed, what they wouldn’t have been able to find with anyone else but each other.
It was love on their terms, raw and carnal, with no more excuses and no regrets.
This was real to Romeo. This was honest and right. Being with her was perfect synchronicity. The rest was bullshit. The constant looking over his shoulder, half the time waiting for the mafia to finally put a bullet in him, the rest wondering what the Feds were going to pin on him hoping he’d sell out his brothers. Everything suddenly evaporated, leaving only the truth of his reality, that he was made to love Jules. He was named for it. Destiny meant for them to be together, even if everything else in their lives was opposed to it.
Their movements became harsh, frantic, as they fucked hard and fought for the oblivion together. Romeo’s grip on her hips was bruising. Jules’s nails dragged down the curves of his back, clinging to sinewy muscle, marking him, claiming him, and ruining him for anyone else.
The water was hot, making the steam heavy, and they were both sweating under the weight of it. Romeo could taste it on her skin as he bit and kissed and licked at the curves of her neck, salty sweet, just like Jules.
She cried out, her back arching as her head fell against the tiles and she gasped,
“I’m coming!”
And then Romeo was too. The dam burst free, and he was pushing into her, emptying himself with warm, satisfying gushes of pleasure that washed over him to the pulse of his heartbeat echoing in his ears. It blinded him with the intensity, a spiral of ecstasy that throbbed through him over and over until he was weak in the aftermath.
Then he was leaning into Jules, crushing her against the wall as she sagged against him. Their lips met once more, their kisses lazy. Everything was hazed with the surreal
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reality that had walled up around them, protecting this amazing, perfect connection they shared from the outside world.
Still shuddering, small mews of pleasure escaped Jules. She sagged in his arms, making him realize just how much of her own strength she’d been using in the heat of the moment. He tightened his hold on her hips, hefting her higher and using the wall as support because his strength was lagging too. He felt like every ounce of it had just been dragged out of him and emptied into Jules.
He froze with that thought, and his entire body tightened.
“Oh shit,” Jules gasped, pushing at his shoulder and looking at him in shock. “We didn’t use anything.”
Romeo was just as stunned as Jules was. He’d never had sex without a condom—
ever. But he’d never met a woman that made him completely stop thinking like she did either.
“Are you—” Romeo started hesitantly. “On something?”
“No.”
“No?” Romeo repeated because that couldn’t be true.
“Get off me.” Jules pushed at his shoulder again. “Lemme down. I can wash off.” Romeo let her down and stood at Jules’s back while she tried to wash him off her, but finally he had to voice his thoughts out loud. “I don’t think it works like that. This is bad.”