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I don’t know if I say it as commentary on what he’s telling me—what he’s revealing he heard—or in response to his fingers driving me higher and higher, his cock throbbing inside me.
Roman reaches around with his other hand and grabs my ass urging me to rock forward. “Do you want to hear more?”
“No,” I breathe. I can’t. I’m too embarrassed to know that he heard me. Too thrown by this tidbit of information that he’s withheld until the perfect moment. The moment when he knows he already has me.
As usual, Roman seems to read my mind. “Don’t be embarrassed, good girl. If you only knew how often I thought about you. How many times I imagined having you. How I hated myself for picturing you under me every time I fucked someone else. You have been in my head for so many years, I don’t even remember what I was like before you.”
Holy shit. Holy shit, I can’t take this.
A whimper escapes my lips as I begin to move, rolling my hips to bring him deeper inside of me.
“Be a good girl and bounce on my cock, Etta.”
I brace my hands on his shoulders and move faster. Both of our breathing picks up, and I can feel myself getting closer.
Roman leans forward to catch one of my nipples in his mouth. My eyes squeeze shut tighter, pleasure crashing over my entire body in waves. I clench around him, gasping, words failing me. He shakes, pressing his face into my neck, as he comes inside me.
* * *
Downstairs, we wait in the hall outside the main ceremony room before entering. I can hear the sounds of people moving around inside. The members of the council—now down to seven.
Personally, I think it sounds better. Eight was a strange number, anyway.
“Ready?” Roman asks.
I nod rather than answering, because if I have to talk right now I'm going to ask him to take me somewhere and do all sorts of filthy things to me—just the two of us.
He leans over. “Remember, good girl. This is a one off. I don’t share.”
I lean up, nipping at his lip. “Back at you.”
The room is long and rectangular with white marble floors and high ceilings, similar to the event ballroom upstairs. I’ve been in here countless times for holiday gatherings but never when it was so empty.
Our bare feet echo as we walk, hand in hand, toward where the seven council members are standing together in a circle of black candles. They begin to chant, and their voices echo off the walls, reverberating all around the room.
As I turn to face Roman, I tune them out. It may as well be silent as I undo my robe and let it fall in a pool around my feet. Yet, for once, I don’t resent the silence. For once, I’m not alone.
“Blessed be thy lips.”
