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"I will. Bye, Hani."
"Bye, Mila."
I drop the phone into my lap and tilt my head back against the couch, groaning loudly. I stay like that for a minute before lifting up to flip through the channels again.
When nothing catches my interest and Roman still hasn't made it back ten minutes later, I say screw it, and drag myself to my feet. My rib still hurts, and I'm stiff because of the bruises across my back, but the pain isn't as bad today as it has been. And if I have to spend another minute in the house, I'm going to go insane. I'm willing to tolerate a little discomfort if doing so gets me out of the condo.
Deciding to go down to the beach for a few minutes since Roman isn't here to stop me, I make my way into the kitchen. Once I've got my Kindle and a bottle of water, I go out to the deck and carefully make my way down the steps to the beach. As soon as my bare feet hit the warm sand, I take a deep breath of the ocean air and then sigh happily.
Roman means well, but I've missed the feel of the warm sand beneath my feet and the sun beating down on me. Since I've been here, I've grown to love being so close to the ocean. I love being able to look out the window and watch the waves roll in. I love how peaceful and quiet it is here. I'm going to miss being here when it's time to go.
I stand on the beach for a long time, just drinking it in. The sky is a cloudless, perfect blue. Gentle waves crash against the shore. Further out, boats bob up and down in the water. Seagulls circle overhead, looking for early afternoon snacks. Aside from their soft caws and the sound of the water as it reaches shore, it's silent.
The longer I'm here, the more I begin to understand why Roman loves Santa Cruz so much. It really feels like we live in our own little world here, far from other people and in the daily grind.
Eventually, I turn and make my way back up onto the deck. Eyeing the chaise dubiously, I decide getting into it can't be any worse than climbing up into Roman's big bed has been. I set my Kindle and water on the cushion before carefully lowering myself down. It takes a little effort, but I finally manage to get comfortable.
Roman will probably lose it when he finds me out here, but that's a risk I'm willing to take. Maybe if I piss him off enough, he'll start giving me orgasms again. I know he can't fuck me yet—I'm still too sore for that—but there's nothing wrong with my vagina. It's not injured, and it's really tired of being denied orgasms. Especially Roman-induced orgasms. They're pretty great.
"Stop thinking about orgasms," I mutter to myself when wetness pools between my legs at the thought of Roman-induced orgasms. Now that I've thought about them, though, I can't unthink them.
Trying to force them out of my mind, I pick up my Kindle and swipe to open the book I've been reading.
As soon as I start, I groan loudly. It's a sex scene.
"Of course it's a sex scene," I grumble, quickly closing the cover and setting the Kindle aside. "I hate Roman's stupid rules. Everyone's getting orgasms except me."
And Roman. He's not getting them either, which is stupid because my mouth still works. And I love having him in my mouth—like, really love it.
There's something so sexy about sucking him off. He's so big, so powerful, but when he slides between my lips, I own him. He looks at me like I'm the most powerful woman in the world when I have his dick in my mouth. He loses control every single time. It happens little by little, like he can't stop himself from making me take a little bit more.
It's so fucking hot.
Glancing around to make sure I'm still alone, I slide my hands down my body. My nipples are hard beneath my palms. I pinch them, imagining his hands on my body. I play with one nipple, pinching and pulling like he does, while my other hand quests lower, over my stomach, and then down into my shorts and panties.
"Oh God," I moan, rolling one finger over my clit. I'm so wet it's ridiculous.
I slide two fingers inside my pussy, whimpering as I imagine him standing over me, slipping his cock between my eager lips. His eyes are on fire, blazing with desire as I run my tongue all around the head, teasing his slit and the underside of his cock.
He groans and pushes deeper, greedy for more. I take him in as far as I can…until my lips are stretched wide, and he hits the back of my throat.
I gag, and his eyes blaze hotter. He trembles, his entire body vibrating. My throat constricts around him. The sound he makes then…God, it's a completely animalistic and feral moan, but it's almost like he's begging, pleading with me to let him feel it again. When he makes that sound, I always take him like that over and over, gagging every time he hits the back of my throat, just to hear that needy, desperate moan again.
My thumb rolls over my clit faster as I think about him giving me those dirty sounds. Eventually, when he can't take it anymore, he pulls back for a second. Just long enough to let me catch my breath before he demands more. He holds me still, making me submit as he pushes deeper, as far as he can go. He goes slowly until he's all the way in, and then he loses it. My eyes water as he fucks my mouth, his groans ringing out around us.
"Take it all," he always tells me, but he's begging every time he says it.
When he's in my mouth, he's always begging. He may be in charge, but I'm the one with the power. I'm the one who brings him to his knees. When he's in my mouth, there's no question about who he belongs to: me. He's all mine.
Soft moans fill the air around me as an orgasm looms up. I imagine Roman wrapping his hand in my hair and pushing as far as he can. He grows bigger in my mouth, panting for breath and cursing. I know he's going to come before he says it. I also know I'm going to swallow every drop he gives me, even before he demands it. I love the way he tastes.
"Roman," I whimper, writhing on the chaise. My whole body tenses as waves of pleasure roll through me, flinging me into an ocean of euphoria. The bruises on my back ache, and so does my rib, but it's worth the pain. When the waves slow, I slump backward, panting softly.
I know he's standing at the door watching me before he says a word. I feel him there, his eyes locked on me. He's like the sun, his heat surrounding me even from across the deck.
"Jesus Christ, Mila," he whispers harshly. The chaise beneath me shakes as he prowls toward me.
I should probably be embarrassed that he caught me getting myself off, but I'm not. When it comes to him, I'm as greedy and shameless as he is. I'm desperate, willing to take whatever he wants to give me.
