Cousins In Love: An Alpha Bad Boy Romance (Book 3) (15 page)

"Can I speak now?" I ask carefully but with a smile.

"I don't think I want to hear shit from that mouth of yours except you screaming my fucking name for the next three days."

"Three days? That's wishful thinking," I jest.

Another lip twitch.

"You want to test me on that? I will literally tie your ass to my bed for three days, and I assure you that you will make plenty of those loud and hard screams you make when you're coming for me. You know the ones." He smirks cockily.

"Why can't we get through fifteen days apart without your attitude? You can't seriously be jealous. What's going to happen when I have to travel without you again?"

"You won't be traveling with him, so it'll be fine."

"And what if I had to? It's possible you know. Investors want to meet the brains behind the technology."

"You're the brain."

"You know what I mean."

"You sound way too dependent on that prick."

"I'm just being smart. He needs a job right now, and I need him."

"You only
need
me."

"You know what I mean."

"I want you to fire that asshole tonight."

"Absolutely not."

"Then you must want me to kick his ass, because those are your two choices."

"Absolutely not," I say while I begin rubbing his head with the palms of my hands. He begins moving his head underneath my hands like a cat. Rubbing his ears between my fingers. Low growls emanating from the base of his throat. I sigh to myself in relief. He isn't even really that mad about Blake. He just missed me. We're fine.
 

"Roman."

"What, Elizabeth?"

"Surprise!" I say cheekily.

"Surprise, huh?"

"I didn't tell you when I was coming, because I wanted to surprise you. Now you've ruined it with your bad behavior."

"I ruined it?"

"Yes, you ruined it."

"Let me fix it then. Arms up."

I raise my arms high, so that Roman can pull my top over my head. I'm wearing a black lace, demi cup bra. It was a gift from him, and it's one of his favorites. I would have worn the matching panties, but my leggings looked better without them. No panty lines. So, I'm commando.
 

He pulls the cups of my bra down, and he bends his head down to latch his lips onto one of my nipples. I quickly gasp when he does this, and mew even more as his thumb gently glides back and forth across the other. Making both of them firm as pebbles.

As his pull on my breasts becomes stronger, my breathing becomes more labored, and I start to squirm. I want him badly. For some reason my body is even more responsive than usual to his manipulation of my breasts; and now the crotch of my leggings are flooded with desire.
 

Maybe I should have worn panties.

As if he can read my mind, he takes one of his hands and uses it to slide three of his magical fingers inside the front of my pants. He immediately stops for a moment when he notices how drenched I am. He does this all the time, as if he's discovered something new. As if he's actually surprised or amazed by it. Like it doesn't happen every single time I'm with him.

"You're sopping wet," he says in a voice thick with need and wonder. "And you don't have on any fucking panties."

Oh yeah. He might be surprised by that. I rarely go commando.

"You were in the car with that prick with no panties on," he growls.

"I missed you," I whisper back. "I knew panties would just get in the way when I saw you today."

"Shit," he exhales.

He plunges his tongue inside of my mouth at the same exact time that he plunges two of his fingers inside of me, and I almost scream loud enough to wake the dead. I can't even believe my own reaction. I guess two weeks was a really long time to go without sex, now that I'm used to getting some on a regular basis. To my delight, he continues to work his fingers inside of me for a few moments before giving me a Masterson-styled interrogation.

"Didn't I tell you to text me the time of the train?"

He immediately pulls his fingers completely out of me.

I exhale harshly, "Yes."

"So why didn't you?"

He completely unhooks my bra and tosses it across the room. Which I laugh shortly to myself about. Why his belongings get neatly folded and placed down, and mine get thrown across the room is a conversation for later.

He begins kneading my breasts with both of his strong hands, making sure that his thumbs caress my nipples the way I like assuming this will get him the answers he's looking for.

"I–"

"You what?" he interrupts.

"I was trying to surprise you."

"Bullshit."

His massage grows stronger and deeper. Then he pinches one of my nipples tightly between the pads of his thumb and pointer finger. The mixture of pressure and pain feels exquisite.

"I–"

"The truth between us always. Isn't that what we've always said?"

His hands drop from my breasts completely, and he walks a few steps away from in between my legs. I immediately miss his warmth.
 

He's watching me intensely, sort of how he used to when we first met. Looking into my eyes for some sort of explanation or answer I haven't given him yet. I panic for a moment that he can see that I'm keeping things from him. That I am not being totally truthful, but then I quickly talk myself down. There's no way. I'm just being paranoid. I've got to get a grip. There's no way he could know about the email or Shrek. Even if he did find out, what's the big deal? I try to rationalize. It's my business to tell, not his to know.

"I was pissed, all right?"

His lips turn up a bit. "Ah, there it is. Honesty. So you were pissed at me?"

"Yes."

"And are you still a little pissed with me?"

"Yes," I respond firmly.

"Why?"

"You cut me off."

"I didn't think you wanted to have any more conversations with someone as
stupid
as me."

I roll my eyes.
 

"I'm sorry okay? I just blurted it out, and later I tried apologizing repeatedly for it. Which is a bit ridiculous by the way, because you never seem to apologize for anything dumb that you say or do."

"What have I done that I need to apologize for?" he asks as he moves forward again and lifts me off of the table and onto my feet as if I weigh nothing.
 

He immediately bends down on his knees before me, and begins to gently pull down my leggings. Then he taps my ankle when he's ready for me to lift each foot to step out of them. I can't even think straight when Roman is down on his knees like this, because I know what's going to come next, and I'm going to like it a whole lot.

"I asked you a question, Duchess."

I try my best to keep my mind on the conversation at hand, and not on the fact that his breath is dancing across my breasts when he speaks. Not to mention that once again he's flung a piece of my clothing across the room.
 

Complete honesty? Well I've already broken that agreement, but I guess I can give him a little of the truth.

"You act like a bratty two-year-old when I tell you something you don't want to hear, and you never apologize for it."

"Explain," he orders as he plants tender kisses on my hipbone.

"I don't want to talk about it now, Roman."

I’d rather he concentrate on what he's doing so well right now.

"Who did you say?"

"Masterson," I moan as my heart begins thundering inside of my chest in anticipation. "I meant Masterson."

"So when do you want to talk about it?"

"After."

"After what?"

"After you give me what I need."

That statement gets me a genuine smile from him.

"And what do you need, Duchess?"

Roman gives a stellar massage, and his powerful hands begin working my butt cheeks. I probably would come right now if I didn't have superior mind control. That and the fact that he'd probably make me pay for it for the rest of the night. He still loves to control every last one of my orgasms. Both of us know that I will lose that game each and every single time. Which is precisely the point.

"Your mouth all over me."

I barely get the words out before Roman flattens his tongue and licks my slit until he reaches the hot core with three very long, broad strokes. Just enough to make me quiver, but not quite enough to send me over the top. He knows my body so well and strums it just like a fine instrument.

"And does your greedy little pussy care about what I need?" he asks with gravel and grit to his voice.

"Yes," I pant.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, Masterson."

"Well right now I need to see it. Inspect it. Examine it. Make sure nobody else has been touching what's mine."

I'm aching now.
 

His possessive words making me crazy with need.

"What would you like me to do, Masterson?"

"Very nice." He pats my right butt cheek in approval. "Spread your legs shoulder width apart."

Roman begins to run his hands up and down my legs as if he's conducting a real inspection. He spreads my labia apart, kisses my clit, then maneuvers his head around me and kisses the side of my hip. Then he moves farther away from me and gives me another order.

"Pull your hair down out of that bun, turn around, and place your palms flat on the table."

I immediately do as he says.

"Very nice, but spread your legs a little farther apart."

After I adjust myself, I rest my head and arms on top of the table, keeping my butt high and my legs spread apart.

"Did I say you could get comfy? Head up. Ass up. Legs apart. Let me see your greedy cunt."

"Roman–" I try to protest.

Whack!

He slaps me across the butt with an open palm. I wasn't expecting it so it startles me, but the vibration of it ripples through my body and sends every hair on my body on high alert.

"I think you're confused, Elizabeth," he grinds the words out through his teeth. "I haven't seen you in two damn weeks. You don't tell me when you're coming home, when I asked you very nicely by the way to text me your arrival time. You come home in a cab
,
laughing and shit like you're at the end of a damn date, and now you're trying be a lazy fuck? I don't think so."

He whacks me again.

This one's even harder and goes straight to my clit.

And before I can get three words out of my mouth in protest, his mouth descends upon my pussy. Licking, sucking and biting me rapidly to the first orgasm I've had from his touch in two weeks.

Needless to say, this is one major damn orgasm. The contraction of my uterus is so powerful, that it renders me speechless for a moment. Breathless. And I begin to see small flickering lights behind my eyelids, much like the quick bursts of light of a camera flash. And that's when the dizziness starts. Almost like I have vertigo. The objects in the room start to liquefy. I quickly grab the sides of the table to steady myself.

"Duchess?" I hear concern in his voice.

I blink my eyes several times and take a moment to catch my breath.
 

"I'm okay," I assure him.

His hand slides up my back and to the back of my neck then back down to my waist. He uses both hands to gently turn me around, and lift me back up on the table. Instinctually I spread my legs.

"Good girl. Now put your legs around my waist." His voice is heavy and raspy as I clasp my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck.

"Who do you belong to, Elizabeth?" He looks deep in my eyes. Willing the answer from my lips.

"You. Only you."

Then he slides home exactly where he belongs.
 

Inside of me.

My mouth gapes open. He almost seems thicker than I remember.
 

"You're so fucking tight." He groans in appreciation.

"Oh my God," I say harshly.

It doesn't take much longer for Roman to rock and stroke me into another earth shattering orgasm and almost into tears. It's going to be a long night. I can tell that he's not even close to being finished with me.

"Welcome home, Duchess," he says. "Now turn over."

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

ELIZABETH

I hear a raised male voice, rumbling sentences heavily laced with expletives regarding something about compromised contract negotiations, lawyers and disrespect. While the words are being delivered in a purposefully harsh manner, the texture of the voice is sand and stone; it makes my body ache in a delicious way. A pleasantly familiar way.

The voice belongs to the man who is a very important part of my daily life, or perhaps rather an essential part. Like breathing. A man who's in
his
office (the spare room of my home), talking on his cell phone at a decibel level much louder than necessary. Practically barking.