Page 28 of Rooke
I teeter on the brink of orgasm, balancing on the tight rope between madness and sanity. Rooke has to know I’m about to go spiraling into oblivion. He’s in tune with me already, able to sense just how close I am to coming. He fucks me with his fingers, stroking the inside of my pussy in a “come here” motion as he laves his tongue over me, and I’m done for.
It starts at the back of my neck: a tingling sensation, both hot and cold at the same time. The muscles in my arms and legs lock up, and the tingling spreads down between my shoulder blades, my lower back, over my buttocks and down into my legs. It hits me hard, turning inwards next, a moment of pure feeling where I am deaf and blind, completely lost. I think I scream. I think I sink to the floor. I think my back arches to painful degrees as Rooke continues to lick and stroke and fuck me with his fingers until I can’t take it anymore and I’m begging for him to stop.
Only he doesn’t stop. He carries on, until I feel another wave of intense pleasure building and building, sweeping over me like a tsunami. There is nothing left of me. I’m just particles and atoms, loose limbed and ruined. When I finally regain myself and open my eyes, I find myself laid out on my back on the floor, panting, and Rooke is on his knees between my legs, watching me with a very serious look on his face. He’s not cocky now. Not smiling in the slightest.
“What—what is it? Are you…okay?” I pant.
He closes his eyes and looks away for a second; when he faces me, he does smile, but it’s a strange, alien smile I haven’t seen him wear before. “No, I’m not okay,” he answers.
Oh god. Oh, holy shit, hehatedgoing down on me. It was the worst experience of his life. A flood of shame rolls around in the pit of my stomach. I snatch hold of the hem of my dress, trying to yank it down my body, to cover myself and my humiliation, but Rooke grabs me by both wrists.
“Don’t even fucking think about it, Connor. Don’t ever pull that shit with me, okay?”
“What shit?”
“The whole, oh I hate my body bullshit. You’re phenomenal.”
“But you just said—”
“I said I wasn’t okay, and I’m not. I’m fucked. I am completely, one hundred percent fucked.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m going to have to quit my job. I’m not going to have time to work anymore. I just found my new favorite pastime, and I sense it’s not going to leave me much time for anything else. Jesus, Sasha… Making you come is fucking incredible. The way your head tipped back. The way your thighs tightened around my head. The way my name sounded when you were panting it like a motherfucking mantra. I’ve only heard it once, and I can’t live without it now. So yeah… I’m not okay.”
“Rooke—”
He shakes his head, cutting me off. “I don’t want to hear it. Not one word. You’re fucking beautiful. And wearedoing this again. You know it and I know it. Don’t lie to yourself, and donotfucking lie to me.”
I was going to be self-deprecating. I was going to tell him I didn’t think it was a good idea for us to do something like this again. I close my mouth, feeling my cheeks burn. I feel like there’s a fire inside me, eating me alive, and it’s nowhere near as frightening a sensation as it should be. It feels exciting, more than anything else, and I’m on the brink of throwing myself onto the flames.
“Are you ready for what comes next?” Rooke asks.
“That depends,” I answer shakily. “That depends on what comes next.”
He straightens, kneeling properly. His fingers begin to nimbly unfasten his shirt, slipping the buttons through the holes, all the while staring at me with a dark, sinister look in his eyes. “I’m going to fuck you, and it’s going to change everything. Nothing will be the same again. The sun won’t brighten your days from here on out.I will. Gravity won’t keep your feet on the ground.I will.You won’t want to eat or sleep without me. Every second spent away from me will be a second wasted.”
Anger prickles at the base of my neck. I curl my hands into fists, ready to pound them against his chest as hard as I can. “Why?” I say quietly. “Fuck, Rooke. Why did you have to say that? How can you presume—”
“I’m not presuming anything. It’s just what comes next. And I know, because it’s a reciprocal thing, Sasha. It’s not just you taking this fucking stupid, crazy-ass next step. I will be too. I can feel it. I know what’s going to happen.” He shrugs his shirt from his shoulders, and the material slides from his body. His chest is solid, carved muscle, covered in intricate, masculine ink. His shoulders are broad; I imagine what it would feel like to cling to him as he pushes himself inside me and my eyes almost roll back in my head.
Rooke begins to unbuckle the belt at his waist. “I’m going to be right there with you. You’ll be my sun. My moon. My gravity, and my heart. I’m willing to let it happen. The question is, do you want that? Or…a better question. Do you want to risknothaving that? This is real, Sasha. You feel that it is, I know you do. And just because it’s real doesn’t mean it isn’t scary. Doesn’t mean that we won’t argue or disagree. It just means that it can be fucking amazing if we let it.”
How can he talk like this? I don’t understand what he’s thinking. We barely know each other. There would be so many hurdles to overcome if we were to even think about being together in the way he’s describing. It wouldn’t just be hard. It would be next to impossible. Still…looking at him now, I can see how firmly he believes in what he’s saying. Steel flashes in his eyes. His jaw is clenched and locked, every inch of him solid and immoveable.
“I’ll ask you again, Sasha. Are you ready?”
My heart is in my throat. I don’t know how I can possibly agree to what he’s saying, but there’s this part of me that wants to throw caution to the wind. Icanagree with him. What’s the worst that can happen? Things don’t work out and we go our separate ways? He moves on and starts fucking some twenty-one year old receptionist? That wouldn’t be the end of the world. Neither of us would die of a broken heart. It might… damn, it might even befun.
I swallow, pushing down the voice of warning in the back of my head. “Okay. Yes. I’m ready. I’m ready for what comes next.” But even as I’m saying the words, I know how crazy I’m being. Rooke’s the most intense person I’ve ever met. There won’t be any walking away from him. There won’t be any moving on for either of us.
I wait for him to fall on me like some rabid animal—I can tell from the look in his eyes that he wants to—but he doesn’t. He climbs painfully slowly up my body, until he’s straddling me, his knees either side of my hips.
“You look like you’re afraid,” he whispers.
“I am.”
“Youshouldbe.” He leans down so slowly that I feel like I’m going to scream. His mouth gets closer and closer, and every long second that passes makes me want to reach up and grab him. I won’t give him the satisfaction, though. I just won’t. When he finally kisses me, I feel like I’m falling through the floor. He tastes like me. He actually tastes likeme. I should be horrified, but I’m not. It’s such an intimate, personal thing. It actually turns me on.
