Page 79 of Roan

Ophelia isn’t having it though, and I’m beginning to understand that dating the woman Ophelia is different from the little girl who chased me around pining for an ounce of attention. This unbelievably gorgeous woman, she’s like going to behavioral boot camp. “Whatever,” she snaps, squeezing my dick and then stroking it from tip to base in the most erotic motion I’ve ever experienced. It’s slow, deliberate, with just the right amount of pressure. “You’re not the boss of me. And the more you try to control me, the longer I’m going to hold out moving in with you.”

I drop my head forward to her shoulder, my hips bucking against her hand. “You’ve been in my bed every night for the last two weeks.” I pant into the side of her neck as she strokes my dick inside my pants. “That’s living together.”

“Nope. That’s a sleepover.” Slowly, with her eyes on mine, she pushes down the front of my pants and takes my dick in her hands. Sliding down the wall, she kneels before me and before I know what’s happening, she’s deep throating me. My head hits the wall, my feet shifting for leverage.

I hold her head in my hands, driving myself into her mouth with little concern if I’m choking her or not. She knows all she has to do is push me away and I’ll stop, but believe me when I say, I’ve been around the world and gotten more head than most rock stars. This girl, sorry, woman, on her knees, her hands on my bare ass, she knows how to give a goddamn blow job.

You wanna know why?

I taught her. I showed her what I like, what got me off, and she perfected it because that’s just who she is. Determined.

Clearly. She refuses to live with me for reasons I don’t agree with.

I come about three minutes into it and just as I’m emptying into her mouth, she pulls out a little and makes it messy by letting my cum drip from her lips. My hooded eyes find hers, my hand on her cheek. “Sexiest fuckin’ thing in the world is seeing my cum on your lips.” Taking my thumb, I spread it over the seam of her lips, loving the way she takes it and sucks on my thumb in the process.

And that’s when Camden walks in. “Hey, Roan, can I drive the tra—” His words trail off somewhere after that.

Ophelia’s hand flies to her mouth and she stands up, her shoulder hitting my nut sac with more force that I ever care to feel again in my life, and I grab my junk.

Camden stares at us, his cheeks pink, a smirk playing at his lips. “Sorry,” he mumbles, backing out.

Ophelia gasps and straightens her dress out. “Holy crap. I can’t believe a kid just saw that.”

I groan and curl into myself. I think my balls just met my throat. “He’s seen worse.”

“I don’t doubt that.” And then she walks out of the room, uncaring that I might not ever be able to give her babies.

When I’m able to walk again, I make my way out to the kitchen where Scarlet is showing Shade cake samples. He looks confused.

“Roan should make the cake,” someone says, I think it’s Amberly, but I’m not sure. I think being headbutted in the balls is fucking with my hearing.

I shoot down the idea right away. “I cook. I don’t bake.”

Shade blinks rapidly, his eyes moving over the wedding planner Scarlet’s clinging to. “Was getting married a bad idea?”

“Yes.” It’s always Tiller who will give you the truth you don’t want to hear.

“Tiller!” Amberly shouts. “Don’t freak him out more.”

“What? I’m being honest.”

Scarlet’s terrified eyes shift to her groom-to-be. “You’re nervous?”

He swallows like he’s trying to choke down a dry cookie. “No?”

“Shade!” Scarlet slaps his shoulder. “Why would you ask me to marry you if you’re scared, you pussy.”

“I’m not,” he argues, and then his tender side surfaces when he notices she’s nearing tears. “Scar, I love you. I don’t care about all this other bullshit.” He scowls at Tiller. “All I care about is spending the rest of my life with you.”

They start making out and I notice Camden’s in the backyard next to the tractor. I kiss Ophelia on the cheek and then make my way back outside. I bump my shoulder into Camden, who’s strangely focused on the tractor. “Hey, dude. Sorry about that.”

He raises an eyebrow. “About?”

“What you walked in on.”

He laughs. “I’ve seen worse.” I nod, and he’s quiet for a second, but then he regards me again. “Was she… like, well…” He sighs, looking like his head is going to explode into pieces, and then finally, he plants his hands on his hips. “Was she giving you a blow job?”

Shit. I shouldn’t tell him this, should I? I mean, his dad already hates me, but it’s not like he doesn’t know about sex. He’s witnessed live sex thanks to Tiller. Before you go saying we’re irresponsible for letting this happen, I had no part of it. And we told him to leave. He just… didn’t.

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