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I hope you're not too sore. I'd promise to be gentler next time but I have a feeling you might not want me to.
I can't wait.
Xo,
R
She smiled to herself and set the piece of paper back on the nightstand before pulling the pillow against her body. She dropped her head to the pillowcase and inhaled his scent. It went straight to her sex and she squeezed her thighs together as she remembered the way he’d felt driving into her, this time without restraint.
She was definitely sore, but in the best of ways. She’d had a feeling he was holding back the first time they’d slept together but she’d still been surprised by the raw power with which he’d fucked her.
Even after a long night of fucking, Roman pushing so far into her she didn't know where she ended and he began, she had the feeling he hadn’t completely let go.
That there was more to come.
Her pussy pulsed at the thought. He'd wrung her dry, making her come more times than she could count with his fingers, his mouth, his massive cock. After so many years of hesitant sex with Adam followed by the last two years of celibacy, it should have been overwhelming.
Instead she just wanted more.
More of his mouth on her clit, his fingers sliding in and out of her pussy, his cock filling her all the way up.
She was almost embarrassed by how honest she’d been with him and she recalled the way he’d addressed her insecurities one by one. If not for the utter sincerity in his voice, she might have thought he was just being nice.
But there could be no mistaking the pleasure he took in her body. She felt it when she was with him, felt beautiful in a way she never had before.
Adam was tall, but his muscle was lean, and she always felt big and ungainly next to him despite the fact that he had a good eight inches of height on her.
But Roman picked her up and moved her around as if she were as light and fragile as a porcelain doll.
It all felt too good to be true.
Was it possible for a gorgeous successful man to adore her exactly as she was? A man who wouldn’t try to control her in the name of love? A man who was not intimidated by the occupation of her ex-husband or the fact that she had a five-year-old daughter?
Only time would tell, but for now it felt good.
It felt right.
She wanted to go back to sleep, but she had to work at nine and she wanted to feed Olivia breakfast before her dad came to spend the day with his granddaughter.
She got out of bed and went to the bathroom, then spent a couple of minutes hunting for a pair of leggings and a long-sleeve T-shirt. She spent the next two hours working on her new collage with a cup of coffee while Olivia slept.
It was rare to have any time alone in the mornings, let alone leisure time to work on her projects, and she reveled in the quiet of the apartment, the muffled but increasingly loud traffic outside of her window as the city woke up on Sunday morning.
It was almost 8 a.m. when Olivia emerged from her room rubbing her eyes, her hair tousled from sleep.
“Good morning sleepyhead,” Ruby said. “How did you sleep?”
“Good," Olivia said. “Where's Roman?”
Ruby's stomach clenched. Had she made a mistake letting Roman spend the day with them yesterday? Would she become one of those single mothers who introduced a parade of strange men to her daughter after her divorce?
No. She was overthinking again, like Brooke said. Olivia didn't have to think she and Ruby were the only people in the world in order to be healthy and safe.
Ruby didn't know how her relationship with Roman would unfold or how she would navigate the waters of single motherhood while getting to know him, but she would figure it out.
She deserved that much.
“Can we have pancakes again?” Olivia asked, crossing the room and walking into Ruby’s arms.
