I did that.
I made Roman look like he was about to crumble to his knees.
I shouldn’t be as wet as I am by seeing him like this, but I want to commit it to memory.
He rams his hips forward with his fist still in my hair, not letting me escape. My hands move each time to try to push him away when he breaches the back of my throat.
“That’s my girl,” he moans.
There’s no stopping the tears streaming down my face, or the soft moans that fall from my mouth as I lick him tentatively when he pulls away long enough for me to do anything.
Letting go of my hair, he says, “Hold it.”
He grunts when my bound hands wrap around his girth. Carefully, I move my hands up and down his length like I saw him do moments ago. I flick my tongue out to lick his head before wrapping my lips around it, and he snarls like he’s holding back a beast. Somehow, Mickey keeps his hands to himself as I explore him; licking the contours beneath his head, and using my tongue to follow the veins on his cock. The sharp breaths he takes only fuel my exploration. When I scrape my teeth along the underside, he cracks.
His fists descend into my hair, and he moves his hips like a maniac. I can barely keep up. There’s spit everywhere, and my lungs are close to giving out. I can’t even see him through the tears blurring my eyes.
“Look at you taking me like a good girl.” He forcefully stops my attempts at a moan with another savage thrust down the back of my throat. “Are you my good girl?” The way he delicately cups my cheek is at odds with the vicious way he moves. “I asked you a question.”
“Yes,” I choke, even though I can’t make out the word.
“Say, yes, Mickey, I’m your good girl.” He doesn’t let up. His grip on my hair keeps me from pulling away to say the words he wants to hear. All of my attempts come out as a jumbled mess of mumbling and gagging that makes him grunt up at the ceiling. “You feel so fucking good.”
He keeps going until he hisses out a curse. The muscles beneath my hands stiffen before he pulls out of my mouth. The cords in his neck strain as the room fills with the sound of his guttural groan. White hot ropes of come hit my cheek and blanket my tongue.
He came.
He came because of me.
He’s marked me because of what I’ve done to him.
Roman pants as he lets go of his cock and grips my face between his thumb and forefinger. “Show me. Stick your tongue out.”
I do as he says, feeling the creamy texture roll around my tongue and drip down the sides of my lips.
He hums in approval. “You look so beautiful with me all over you, Princess.” He caresses my cheek.
My skin reddens at his approval.
“Swallow. You’re not allowed to miss a single drop.”
It’s so salty, but I’m committed to pleasing him. Despite its strong taste, I would do it again in a heartbeat. It’s intimate in a way I didn’t expect. Mickey seeing a part of him on me is like laying claim to me without any words or more action on his part. For me, it’s like owning a part of him.
With my bound hands, I make a show of using my fingers to wipe the come from my face and into my mouth, licking each drop clean.
Mickey curses and helps me to my feet. “You make me crazy, Bella.”
I stagger forward, but his hands are there to catch me. He carries me into the bathroom, wipes my face and the inside of my legs clean with a wet cloth, and brushes my hair before braiding it, all while humming an unknown tune, slowly lulling me back to sleep. I’m physically and mentally exhausted, but I force my eyes to stay open to track Mickey and the upward slant of his lips as he takes care of me.
“I think the neighbors know my name now.” Mickey winks.
My only energy left has me shaking my head with a soft smile. I’m weightless in his arms as he takes us back to bed. Mickey refused to get a room with two single beds, and right now, I’m grateful that he did. The last thing I want is to feel cold in the same spot where he set me aflame.
He arranges us so our legs are tangled, and the blanket reaches up to my chin. Even though I’m fighting sleep, he kisses me senseless: my forehead, cheeks, lips, shoulder, the top of my head, anywhere he can reach without moving me.
There’s one question weighing on my mind, and I know once I ask, the post-orgasm delirium wrapping around us will end. But it needs to be asked.
“Damien told me you lost some bad people a lot of money.”
He grunts, and as I expected, the warmth in the air evaporates. “I’ve lost a lot of people a lot of money. He needs to be more specific.”
I shift my head to look up at him as unease rolls through my stomach. “There was a man with a scar on his face.”
“The Vargas Gang—or cartel, depending on who you ask.” He tucks my hair behind my ear. “Don’t worry about them. Everyone thinks they’re a joke. No one will lay a hand on you. I’ll keep you safe.”
“It’s not me I’m worried about. It’s you.” He’s the one who steps foot in the ring and becomes an animal under the spotlight.
He smiles smugly. “I like it when you’re thinking about me.”
“This is serious, Mickey. You’ll be front and center, taunting them each time you take a breath. You have to be careful.”
He holds me tighter. “I am. They won’t get to me, Princess. We’ll get out of here before they get the chance.”
“I still don’t like it. You’re a target in the middle of the arena.” I shake my head slowly.
He turns us so he’s on top and our gazes tangle. “They won’t take me away from you. I promise.”
The boulder in my throat doesn’t get any smaller. Roman is just one person against an army. Despite his fighting name, Ares, he’s not the god he thinks he is, and he sure as hell can’t take on a whole cartel by himself.
“What did you do to piss them off?”
He sighs like it’s a distant memory. “A car came into the prison garage. I was the first one there that morning—and the rule is, first in, first serve. The form said there was something wrong with the suspension. I started working and noticed a tire was a bit fucked and needed to be replaced. I found a kilo of coke glued to the wheel.”
I brows pinch. “Did you tell the guards?”
“Shit, no. I’m no snitch.” He laughs. “Rico saw and claimed it as an Alvarez import. Guess it belonged to the Vargas.” He shakes his head, chuckling to himself. “It wasn’t even the first time someone else claimed their shipment.”
“Then shouldn’t they be mad at Rico, not you?”
He kisses my forehead and pulls me back on top of him, with my head on his chest. “It isn’t Rico’s name on the form.”
“Is there anything you can do to fix it?”
He scoffs. “Hand myself over to them and let them beat the shit out of me so they feel better. Or give them the half a mil they lost.”
“But isn’t it their fault for not getting to it first?
He winks. “My thoughts exactly, baby girl.”
“Just promise me you’ll be careful, Mickey,” I sigh.
“For you, anything.”
“Say it.”