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.
“Ana,” I tell him and watch as shock slams through him. That describes it perfectly. It hits him with the force of a fist to the gut.