I thrust through her orgasm, giving her throaty moans as she whimpers so prettily for me. When her body relaxes, I give her no reprieve, leaning down over her to capture her lips as I scoop my hips in ragged thrusts.
There’s no finesse to the way I fill her. I’ve lost all semblance of dignity under her touch. My balls ache to fill her, to mark her as mine with a load of hot cum.
She winces as I kiss her, her split lip reopening, the taste of blood salty between us.
‘Does it hurt?’ I ask.
‘Not enough.’
She wants this to be a purge rather than lovemaking, and it sows a seed of doubt deep inside me. While I enjoy it hot and rough, I’m too used to being a one-night option for it not to set off a panic.
I try to crush the thought, losing myself in her hot, soft body as she takes me to the balls. Our kisses grow desperate, despite the blood. Our bodies clash, slick and hot, despite the pain that fills my torso and limbs.
Eddie’s still between us with every single ache.
And I hate it.
‘Say my name,’ I plead, pulling back a little so I can see Maggie’s face as I thrust into her.
‘Roman,’ she moans, dragging her nails down my arms. The sound of my name on her lips makes my balls tense. More. I need more.
‘Say it again,’ I growl. ‘Say my name.’
She does. Louder this time as I graze a thumb over her swollen clit. And then again, when I jerk my hips hard enough to steal her breath.
It’s been so long since a lovely woman called me my real name in bed. So long since I heard it in that guttural lust drunk plea.
I lose control, flipping her over and entering her hard from behind. Pulling her up to my chest, I sink my face into her damp curls.
‘Oh god,’ she moaned, the new position letting me sink even deeper into her. It’ll never be deep enough. I want all of her.
This weird girl.
This brilliant, chaotic, terrifying, beautiful girl.
My girl.
Her body obeys my every touch. The way her breath catches with every piston of my hips. The way she tips her head back to give me access to her neck. The way her full arse bounces against my hips.
She makes me feral.
I’m obsessed with her. Head over heels obsessed. Every whimper stokes my need. Every moan makes me see the stars. The slide of our bodies against each other has me so fucking close to finishing.
And yet, other thoughts creep in.
My life back home
My lies.
The walls I’ve built around myself.
The online version of me that isn’t real, and the real version of me that everyone leaves.
Will she even like the real me, outside of this bubble of lust? When we’re not stuck together. When I go back to lying.
Would she be my secret? My hidden indulgence?
No.
