The Perfect Stroke (52 page)

She looks up at me in surprise. I notice the tears in her eyes and they bother me. Am I the reason for them? Most likely. I’m really going to have to do something about this brother of hers if I keep her.
If
. I’m not letting her go. There’s no point in hiding from that fact. I want her more than I did the first time and I’ve yet to get inside her. I can only imagine that once I get a taste of that, I’m doomed.
Brought down by a pussy.

“Thinking.”

I pick her up and slide underneath her on the lounge chair. The blanket drops to the floor, but I let it go. I figure I can keep her warm enough. I hold her head close to my chest and let my fingers brush through her hair. “You okay, pet?” I ask, knowing better.

“I’m a mess, Roman.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not even a little bit.”

We sit there in the silence a few more minutes while the sun breaks free from the clouds and its light blooms in the sky. She turns from her side, laying with her stomach pressed to mine, her face mere inches from me. I run my thumb over her chin, sweeping it up towards her cheek.

“You’re beautiful, Ana.”

“You weren’t what I expected,” she whispers in return. I’m not quite positive how to take that, so in the end I say nothing. Her fingers reach for the zipper of my slacks. I had left the top button undone, and in just a second she has them all undone. My cock, which had been semi-sleeping since finding Ana gone, begins to stretch and push towards her. I grab her hand to stop her.

“Ana.”

“Please, Roman. Later, you can remind me you’re in control. For now, just right now, can I take what I want? What I need?”

There’s something in her eyes as she asks that question. Something that I vow to question further. When she pulls my shirt off and throws it on the ground, I stop thinking about it. As the sun’s glow serves as a backdrop, highlighting her perfect body, I almost forget to breathe. When she pulls on my pants, I lift up and she works them past my hips. As she adjusts her legs to ride me and starts sliding back and forth on my cock, using the hard ridge of it to push against her pussy, I stop thinking altogether. I can feel the slick, wet heat of her desire paint my cock as she slowly drags herself back and forth.

“Fuck, pet. You’re soaked.”

“I need you,” she gasps, moving her body back and using her hand to grasp the base of my cock.

“Then take me. For now, take what you want,” I tell her, repeating her words and giving her the permission she needs.

Guilt can suffocate you. Roman has been so sweet, so loving, and he’s nothing like the man I expected to encounter. He’s good. He’s a good man. I know he’s involved in things that are bad, but the Roman I’m beginning to know is …
good
. What do I do with that? It’s like I’ve fallen out of reality here. The rules have all changed and the bad guy isn’t really the bad guy and the good guy clearly isn’t good. And me … I’m stuck in the middle.

I need to save my brother. I have a job to do. But I never thought my job would mean I had to hurt innocent people. My brain wants to argue that Roman is far from innocent, but he would be innocent of what Paul asked me to set him up for. Paul—my mentor, the man I looked up to among all others, and he’s asked me to go against everything I believe, every oath I ever made and everything I thought I was in the force to prevent. Paul’s right. Roman’s not innocent. But if we do this—if
I
do this—aren’t we worse?

My head is a mess, and when Roman came out to find me and was so sweet, I was so close to jumping off the ledge, telling him everything that’s going on and asking him to not only save my brother, but to save me. I can’t take the final step to do that. What if I’m just losing sight of reality, lost in all that’s Roman? If that’s the case, I’m probably doing the last thing I should.
Losing myself even more.

I brace my hands on his shoulders, riding back and forth on his cock, coating him in …
me.
His hard shaft slides between the lips of my pussy so easily, and it pushes up against my clit in all the right ways. I could come just like this, but I allow myself one truth in whatever this is I’m doing with Roman.
I need him inside of me.
I move back at his permission and wrap my hand around the base of his cock. My knees dig into the cushion of the chair as I rise above him. My eyes find his as I position him at my opening. His cock is so hot, so large. I know doing this might be wrong. Maybe that’s what makes it even better. Maybe nothing matters except this moment. I lower myself slowly onto his shaft. I stop when just his head is inside of me. Just that much, and I already feel how he’s going to stretch me beyond anything I’ve ever experienced. He may ruin me for other men.
He might have, already …

“Fuck, Ana,” Roman groans, his hips thrusting up towards me as he sinks another inch inside. I gasp at the sensation as he sinks into me a little more. My fingers dig into his shoulders and the pleasure mixes with the sting of pain it takes to stretch around him and take him all the way inside. Once he’s seated deep, I hold still and just get used to the feeling of being stretched and full of nothing but Roman. His hand slides under my hair and he holds the side of my face again, his thumb brushing against my skin as he does so often. “You okay, pet?”

Okay? No
, I answer in my mind. Right now, I want my first time with Roman to be about nothing but him and me, so I push everything else away. I squeeze my inner muscles around his cock instead, bringing the focus back to the here and now, to the only thing that Roman and I can share.

“I feel so much better than okay,” I moan as I lift back off his cock, slowly dragging him out of me, but keeping the tip, and then pushing back down. Roman’s hands bite into my ass cheeks. They’re not gentle, but even that feels good. No. It feels better than good. He’s letting me be in charge, but not letting me forget that he is the one
really
in control. This time when I rise and lower myself back down, I do it at an angle and moan as his hard cock scrapes against my walls. Over and over I ride him, losing sight of everything but Roman’s face, and the pleasure, and the look in his eyes. Everything else fades away. Faster and faster I get, lifting off and then taking him back in, pummeling my pussy with his dick—
using him
. I can feel my orgasm and it’s right there. I can feel it. I can almost taste it, but can’t quite reach it.

That’s when Roman takes over. “You’re so fucking beautiful, pet,” his hoarse voice tells me, and even that feels like a caress. He uses his hold on my hips to take over the speed and angle of my ride. I turn over control willingly. My hands move to my breasts, clutching underneath them and holding onto them tightly. He slams me back down on his cock
hard
, so hard it physically jars my body and heat swamps me. I squeeze him inside of me as tight as I can. My head goes back from the pleasure.

“Roman,” I cry out, feeling his dick so far in me that it’s pressing against my cervix. It’s painful but it also releases these shockwaves and ripples of pleasure inside of me that I’ve never known. I bend my body backwards, trying to stretch it to hold onto every sensation. Roman must know what I’m doing, or maybe he feels it too, because his bruising hold on me keeps me pushed down on him and then he grinds me against him. “Oh fuck!” I scream when he does it again.

“So beautiful, Ana,” he repeats. “Come for me. Come for me, pet,” Roman’s voice growls, but I’ve lost sight of him. I’m riding wave after wave of pleasure and my orgasm shoots through me. Roman pulls me back off his dick and then slams me back down. I straighten and concentrate on the pleasure and the ride, my eyes closed. Shock courses through me as his lips latch onto one of my breasts and he bites into the nipple. My fingers dig into his hair as his mouth works its magic. His fingers slide into my ass and press against the opening. He holds me still this time, but thrusts his hips up into me. I grind down and meet his thrust, turning just enough so he’s once again scraping my inner walls. That triggers a second orgasm which is so much more massive than the first. It sends wave after wave of pleasure through my body. I let out a long keening cry like I’ve never uttered before. I’m almost unsure it’s me. When I feel the heat of his cum flood inside of me, it does nothing but add to the pleasure. My eyes fasten onto him. His dark eyes grow intense, glowing and full of pleasure as he gives in to his climax. His hand wraps in my hair and he pulls my head down to him.

“Mine,” he growls. “You’re mine, Ana.”

His words feel like a brand, as hot and as heated as the cum he’s shooting inside of me. The tears come without warning. They fall unchecked as he takes my mouth. 

I could love him …

“Damn it, Bruno, you better start getting it together or I’ll find someone else who can.”

“Got it, boss,” he says before shaking his head and leaving the room. I’m taking out my frustration on him. It’s not right, but that’s definitely what I’m doing. I’m so fucking keyed up over Ana, I don’t know which end is up. I’ve thought of little else since I left her this morning. That’s how fucking twisted in knots she has me. It’s ridiculous. It’s also why I’m looking at her lowlife piece of shit brother instead of working like I need to be doing.

“Why are you still letting me breathe?” he whispers, his voice hoarse. Not from beating. No. My guys haven’t touched him since I met Ana. No, the detox from the shit in his veins is what is killing him now. Quitting cold turkey when he’s this addicted is probably not wise, but I have the doctor on my payroll checking him out and Bruno or one of the boys watches him twenty-four-seven. I figure that’s more than he deserves and definitely more than I owe the fucker.

I have him chained to a cable like a damn dog. On his wrist is a tight cuff that’s attached to a steel chain. The chain connects to a link that’s on a steel cable. It allows him leeway to walk to a bed and then to a bathroom that contains nothing but a toilet and small shower. He has no shirt on, but his jeans are starting to look extremely dirty. In truth, he looks like hell, but he’s still breathing. You would think that’d make the douche thankful.
I guess not.