Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
“Do we need a word or something?”
“No, baby. The word is stop. No questions. You say stop, and that’s what we do.”
“I’m not going to want you to stop.”
I smirk. “Hands in my hair.” I settle further between her thighs, lifting one leg, then the other over my shoulders.
“Oh.”
With one hand, I hold her perfect pink pussy open, and the other slides up and rolls her nipple between my index finger and thumb, while my mouth gently sucks her clit.
“Oh. My. G—” She doesn’t finish her sentence, because she can’t.
I work at her like a starving man. To be honest, I am starving for her. It’s been months of back and forth. Months of fighting when we could have been enjoying each other this entire time.
At least I can honestly say that I tried my hardest to prevent being here with her like this. Not because I didn’t want to be. Fuck, I’ve thought of this moment more times than I care to admit.
The hand that’s tweaking her nipple slides back down to get on the action, and I gently push one long digit inside her.
“Holy shit,” she calls out.
I smile and gently pump in and out of her, all while exploring her with my tongue. Her hands tug on my hair, and her legs are locked tightly around me. Her body starts to tremble, and it’s almost too much to pull my finger out and push back inside her. Her pussy is gripping me like a vise.
“R—Rome. What’s— Fuck!” she shouts, and I drink in everything her body is willing to give me.
Every. Last. Drop.
When she releases her hold on my hair and her legs relax, I crawl up the bed and kiss her. She doesn’t seem to mind her taste on my tongue. Reaching over, I turn off the light. She pulls me into another kiss, and I let her.
I don’t know how late we stay up kissing and letting our hands roam over each other's bodies getting to know one another intimately, but hands down this is the best night of my life.
Chapter
Twelve
Emerson
* * *
The past few days have been nothing short of incredible. I’ve spent every single night in Roman’s bed. Forrest thinks I’ve been sleeping at Monroe’s. It’s not uncommon for us to do that; however, I am missing my best friend and my brother. It’s Wednesday. Monroe and I leave to go back to school on Monday, and I don’t want to go. Sure, I want to finish my degree, and start my life and my career, but leaving him when I just got him feels like a special kind of hell that I’m not enjoying.
“Where are you headed?” Forrest asks.
“To Monroe’s.” That’s been my go-to immediate answer the past several days. I do have a touch of guilt for lying, but I feel as though it’s important for Roman and me to make sure we’re in this. I mean, we both say that we are, but I’m concerned about how we will handle the separation once I go back to school.
“Can she not come here? I miss you, kid. You leave Monday. I feel like the last week or so I’ve barely seen you.”
“I know, I’m sorry. We made plans for tonight, but we’ll stay here tomorrow night.”
“You know, if there is something you want to tell me about the two of you, I’m here to listen.”
I freeze. “What?”
He looks uncomfortable. “I just mean if you’re into her, and you two are, you know, a thing, that’s okay. You don’t have to hide that from me.”
“Forrest.” I wait until he and his pink-tinted cheeks look me in the eye. “Monroe is my best friend. That’s all. Not that there is anything wrong with same-sex action, that’s just… not my jam, if you know what I mean.” He blinks rapidly. “I’m into men, Forty. I’m a penis girl,” I say, and cringe.
He holds up his hands. “Stop.”
“You started it,” I sass, crossing my arms over my chest, and glare at him.
“I miss you. You don’t usually stay at her place this many days in a row. I was trying to be supportive.”
I move to the couch and sit next to him. “So if I told you that vagina was my choice, you’d approve?”
“Yes.”
“What if I said I was dating a guy twenty years older than me?”
His face pales. “Please tell me you’re not.”
I grin. “I’m not. What about a guy ten years older than me?” I’m sure I’m going to get the same reaction, but maybe this will plant a seed, and he can see that choosing Roman isn’t the worst that I could have done as far as our ages are concerned.
“That’s better than twenty,” he mutters.
“Forrest, I love you. You’ve done so much for me, and you’ve always been the rock I can count on. My anchor.” I smile at him. “But you have to let me be me. I’m an adult now. You don’t have to worry so much. I’m me because of the man you are. You helped shape me into the woman I am. Have faith that I’m making the right choices for me in my life.” I pause. “That includes penis.”