Page 19 of Roma Queen
Fuuuuck, that feels so fucking good. It feels even better with Zara’s eyes on me, watching my every move. She’s staring, fixed on the tip of my cock, and doesn’t look away when I wrap my thumb and my finger around the head, squeezing again, this time producing a bead of pre-come that gathers and rolls over the end of my dick, wetting my fingers.
Zara licks her lips, and I almost crow out-fucking-loud. She wants me in her mouth. She wants to lick that pre-come off me and savor the taste on the end of her fucking tongue. She glances upward, her gaze meeting mine, and she blinks slowly. “Quite the little pervert, aren’t you?” she whispers.
“Oh, Firefly. Seriously. You havenoidea.”
She arches an eyebrow at me.
“Would you like me to show you?” I ask.
She swallows thickly. God, she’s so fucking adorable when she’s just that little, teeny tiny bit afraid. “I don’t know if I’m ready to face the true depths of your depravity. Then again, I doubt I ever will be. So fuck it. Sure. I…I guess I do want you to show me.”
“No worrying about people hearing you, then. You won’t be able to keep it all bottled up inside. You’re going to have to moan. You’re gonna have to curse. If you’re not free for me, then I won’t be free for you either, Firefly.”
She sinks back into the blankets, scooting back a little to make room for me as I climb up onto the edge of the bed. “I’m surprised you’d risk your people hearing us fuck when you’re hoping they’ll vote for you tomorrow.”
A honeyed smile spreads across my face. I take hold of her by the ankles and drag her toward me. Tutting, I untie her sneakers and pull them from her feet. “Firefly. We Roma are pretty closeted when it comes to sex. We don’t talk about it. We don’t bring it up. We don’t allude to it. But there’s one thing you can’t escape when you live at such close quarters with so many other people. Wehearit all the fucking time. Give me your hand. Now.”
Zara’s lips are parted, pouting so fucking prettily. Her mouth is such a delicate shade of pink; her nipples and her pussy, too. The most intimate parts of her are so goddamn delicate—soft, pliable, pale and fine. I can’t wait to spread her out naked like she’s a goddamn all-you-can-eat buffet; I plan on gorging myself on her in every possible way.
A tiny line forms between the graceful arch of her eyebrows, suggesting that she might be a little intimidated by my command. Her eyes are wild, though, huge and round, the size of saucers as she tentatively extends her right hand and offers it to me.
“Good. Now…feel what you do to me. Feel how fucking hard you’ve made me today, with all that talk of masturbating and watching porn. And your ass in those fucking jeans, Zara,” I grind out.
I’ve been thinking about this for fucking hours. All fucking day long. Even when we were in the gathering hall, battling it out with Shelta, my dick didn’t fully cool its jets. That wasn’t my fault. If Zara hadn’t been so fucking magnificent as she tore my mother to shreds, my erection would have abandoned me for sure. She was a wild thing, though. An unstoppable force of nature. A deadly storm, with piercing hazel eyes and hair the color of a sunset. Or a nightmare.
As her hand closes around me, fingers curling around the shaft of my cock, a violent tremor passes through me, forcing my head back. Holyfuck. When she touches me… I can’t fucking cope. Her hesitancy sparks something dark and lust-filled inside me. She doesn’t stroke me like a woman who’s had plenty of practice. She runs her hand up and down the length of me so slowly, so cautiously, her eyes locked onto the sight of her own hand on my dick, eyes filled with surprise, as if she can’t actually believe that she’s doing such a thing…it’s all soinnocent.
I don’tlikeinnocent girls.
I don’twantinnocent girls.
I want, havealwayswanted, a woman who knows whatshewants and how to get it. But it’s different with Zara. On the outside, she’s so fierce, holding a middle finger up to the world, ready to take on any challenge at any given moment. She’s so solid and sure of herself. That all disappears when she’s with me, though. I get to see this side of her. I get to be the reason why her heart beats out of her chest, and her pupils dilate so wide that her eyes are almost swallowed by black. It’s because of me that she’s shaking ever so slightly, and she doesn’t really know what to do with herself.
I fuckinglovethat I have that kind of effect on her, because she affects me, too. My thoughts are a tangle whenever I’m with her. I’m second guessing every other word that comes out of my fucking mouth. I keep finding myself over-thinking every action, and every step, wondering if it’s an action or a step that she’ll approve of, or will make her like me more. These are the ways in whichsheaffectsme.
Here, though, in a bedroom, with a belt to hand and a closed door between us and the outside world? Here, I don’t second guess myself. Self-doubt is a categorical impossibility for me here.
Where I’d have been annoyed by her inexperience if she were just some one night stand I’d brought home from a bar to fuck, I am literallyelectrifiedby Zara’s innocence now. I allow my eyes to drift closed for a second, and her hand tightens around me. I have to grit my teeth together. “Fuck, Zara,” I whisper. “Fuck.”
One more second. One more heavenly, delicious second of her teasing her hand up and down me and I stop her. There’s another bead of pre-cum glistening on the head of my dick. I use my thumb to wipe it away, and then I take Zara by the chin with my other hand, lifting her face so that she’s looking up at me.
“Open your mouth,” I command. She licks her lips. God, I want to fucking bite them so hard. I want to break the skin. I won’t though. I would never dream of marring something so precious and perfect. I’d never fucking hurt her. She opens her mouth, and I stifle back the groan that’s begging to be released, pulling against my diaphragm. “Stick out your tongue,” I tell her.
For a second, I think she’s going to tell me to go fuck myself; the insubordinate flare that lights up her eyes is a clear reminder that she doesn’t like being told what to do. But, like a good girl, she eventually does what I’ve asked of her and sticks out her tongue. Her left brow arches in silent question:What now, Asshole?
I press the pad of my thumb onto the flat of her tongue and slowly draw it down toward the tip, spreading my pre-come over her taste buds, and Zara’s breath catches in her throat. No, she wasn’t expecting that. She wasn’t expecting me to be quite so direct. She’d better get used to it, and quickly, otherwise the next hour or so is going to be quite a shock for her.
Sliding my thumb into her mouth, I push it all the way in until her lips meet the knuckle. “Suck it,” I command.
Her eyelashes flutter like crazy, but she closes her eyes and wraps her lips around my thumb.
Fuck me.
So hot…
So wet…
I show the restraint of a saint as I slowly draw my thumb out of her mouth and slide it back in again. I know what it’d feel like if it was my dick I was thrusting into her mouth—It would feel fucking phenomenal, but I won’t allow it. I won’t take that for myself. First things first, I want to give Zara what she needs. What she’s been craving for years, even if she doesn’t know it herself yet.
