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He looked adorably confused, as if someone had just taken his favorite toy away from him even though he was being good. “Your hands,” Angela clarified. “Put them back. Grab my hair, control my head.”
His eyes widened in understanding. She saw heat flash through them before he shook his head. “I don’t need...”
“I do,” she told him firmly. And it was true. But she understood his hesitation.
About a week after they made their relationship official, she’d been giving him a blow job in the shower. Roman grabbed her hair, pulling on it and she freaked out. It triggered her, and she’d actually fought him off. Not that she needed to. When she’d settled down, she found him standing placidly under the spray, with his hands behind his back. She was horrified by the scratches she left on his chest and even his thighs. But Roman had been sweet and understanding and full of patience. He’d held her and told her everything was going to be okay.
Afterwards, they’d had an open discussion about things to avoid—as well as things to embrace. For both of them. Roman wasn’t without his own issues. Since then, he never gripped her hair or head, giving her all the control, even when she knew he wanted to. He was a damn good man.
“Fuck my mouth like you mean it, Roman,” she told him brazenly.
His eyes rolled back and the groan that fell from his lips was harsh. “Fuck, Angel. The things you say.”
Angela smirked at him, holding his cock tightly in her fist. “Is that a yes?”
“Are you sure?” he checked.
“I’m sure. I want this. I want you. I want you to know I accept everything about you. I want you to know that I’m not afraid of you—or of anything we do together. What we do, whether it be hard and fast or soft and slow, is nothing like what happened to me. It never will be. And I want this for myself,” she told him. “Come on, baby. Show me what you got.”
“Dios, you’re the sexiest thing...” Roman muttered gutturally.
His hands shook a little when they reached for her hair. It was thick and long with big waves. It would never be considered curly, but it also wasn’t straight. She knew Roman loved it. His grip was firm, and when he gave a small, experimental tug, Angela gasped. Her scalp tingled, but so did her pussy.
“All good?” Roman asked one last time.
She met his eyes, her right hand trailing down her body. His eyes tracked the movement over her breasts and stomach to her core. She parted her folds boldly, gathering some of the wetness onto two fingers. Then she brought them to her mouth, sucking the juices off. “What do you think?”
“I think you’re going to be the death of me,” Roman replied, looking painfully aroused.
She smirked at him. “What a way to go. Now, where were we?”
Angela allowed Roman to maneuver her head back to his hard cock. Then she opened her mouth, keeping her palms flat on his muscled thighs, and slowly took him in to the root. He held her there for a moment before tugging her back up. He was still watching her carefully, but she was satisfied to see sweat break out on his forehead and his chest rise and fall rapidly with his panting breaths. He pushed her head back down, holding her longer this time, and she had to consciously remind herself to breathe through her nose. When he pulled her head back this time, a long line of spit and pre-cum followed.
Roman grabbed a handful of her hair on either side of her head, holding her steady as he thrust upwards. His cock moved in and out of her mouth, hitting the back of her throat. His grip held her immobile, and she kept her eyes on his. Even when they began to water. When his hips started to lose their forceful rhythm and his head fell back on his shoulders, she took some control back. She moved her hands to grip the base of his cock so she could suck. Hard.
Roman swore inventively, before warning her, “Close...”
Angela knew that, so she doubled her efforts, sucking harder and moving her hand in counterpoint to her head. Roman came with a roar moments later. He shoved her head against his crotch, forcing her restrictive hand away. Her nose squashed against his pelvic bone as he came straight down her throat. His hips jerked twice more before his hands fell away, allowing her to pull back and draw in gulps of much-needed oxygen. Her chin was wet, and her eyes were no doubt red and watery, but she felt incredible.
And so does Roman, she thought, triumphant. He was sitting in front of her, his legs splayed open and his arms lax. He was panting and muttering in multiple languages as he blinked up at the ceiling. His cock was shiny with spit, resting against his thigh, and she still wanted it.
“Why are you staring at my dick like that?”
She looked up, unashamed that she had been caught staring at his crotch. “It’s gone all soft,” she complained.
Roman barked out a laugh, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “That’s because you hoovered all the stiffness out of it.”
Angela rubbed her mouth and stretched her jaw, easing some of the soreness. “But now I can’t put it in me.” It was truly a sad state of affairs.
“Keep talking like that and looking at me like that, and it will be hard again in no time,” Roman said. “But until then...”
He reached forward, hauling her up under her armpits. She squeaked because his strength often surprised her. He yanked her pants and underwear off in one fell swoop. He shifted around and lowered himself until his back was flat against the couch, then he settled her on top of him. And she did mean on top. As in, on his face.
“Roman!” she gasped.
“My turn,” was all said before flattening his tongue and licking her cunt firmly.
Angela writhed as Roman ate her out, riding his face at his urging. When he pushed two thick fingers into her, she moaned. “Roman! Yes!”
