“You’re so tense, Georgia. It’s coming off you in waves.” I look back towards him, his ice-blue eyes meeting mine. “I want this, but it’s only going to happen if it’s what you want, too.”
I’m not actually sure if this, sex, is exactly what I need, but for now, it’s working; it’s taking the pain away, from my heart and from my head. It has eased, just a little bit, and that’s what I need; that’s what I want, to forget, just for a while.
“I want this,” I whisper so quietly, even I’m not sure I said it.
Roman leans in and kisses me gently on the mouth, dragging his fingers down my throat as he sits back on his heels and looks at me. His fingers continue their path as he brushes them over my chest, then over to my boobs, first the left, then across to the right, which he cups as he brings his eyes up to meet mine. He leans in, takes my nipple in his mouth and sucks on it, first gently, just using his lips and then I feel his teeth. He doesn’t bite down hard, but he pulls at my nipple, all the while still looking at me. Just as I’m about to tell him to stop, that it hurts, he releases it. His gaze leaves mine as he blows on the erect bud, then he laps at it with his tongue as his eyes once again meet mine and I moan. I thought it would be quiet but it comes out much louder than I planned, and I feel myself blush as a small smile pulls at the corner of his mouth.
“Turn around, and lay on your belly.” I do as he says, curious as to what he’s going to do. “D’ya have any oil, baby, massage oil, anything?” What the fuck is he planning on doing to me?
“Why, what do you need it for?” My voice must sound more panicked than I intend. I hear him chuckle, and he leans forward and bites my bum cheek gently.
“Chill, little girl, I just want to help you relax.” He runs his palm gently over my arse and whispers in my ear, “I promise not to touch this.” He squeezes my bum cheek hard. “Not till you’re ready for me to. Could be tonight, could be next week, but I’ll make sure you fucking love it when I do take it.” Fuck, I’m melting. I push my pubic bone down into the bed to try to get some friction. “Now, oil, where will I find it?”
“Bathroom,” is all I can manage to get out. He’s suddenly gone and I try to gather my thoughts. I’m shaking from head to toe and my head is pounding. I’m sure I’m doing the right thing. I just need to get this first time out of the way, and I couldn’t have picked anyone better than Roman. He wants nothing from me; there’s no illusion of love, and I like him. I couldn’t do this otherwise. The days of cold, calculated sex are long gone for me. I need a connection, but the fact that what I feel for him isn’t intense or overwhelming me is probably a good thing. I like him a lot, but I have no plans for a long-term relationship with him. He’s only in town till February, and I’m thinking of going back to England before Christmas, maybe as soon as next week. He’s hot to look at and he’s a great bloke; he’s kind, considerate, and from what I can tell without being obvious, he has a decent-sized dick. He’s hot. He seems to know what he wants with regard to sex, and he’s hot, did I mention that already? So bingo, I just need to get this done and not become a blubbering mess during the process.
The bathroom light goes out and he comes back over. What he does next instantly makes tears sting my eyes, because it’s so tender and intimate; he scoops all my hair up onto the top of my head and secures it with a scrunchy that he must have gotten from the bathroom. He kisses across my shoulders then straddles me, sitting across the tops of my thighs. I hear the cap flip and the squishing sound of oil being squeezed from the bottle. The smell hits me instantly; baby oil. It reminds me of my nephews and nieces, of home, of Sean and of Beau, and I squeeze my eyes tightly closed.
“Relax, Georgia; relax those shoulders,” he whispers right in my ear, and I feel goose bumps travel up my spine. He gently massages the oil into my shoulders, rubbing it in with his fingertips and thumbs. Sometimes it’s almost painful, but mostly it feels amazing. I rest my head down on the mattress and let myself drift away. His big hands move over my ribs, down to my waist, gently coaxing the tension out of me, easing away the stress and making me ache with desire. Every so often as he moves, I can feel his cock or his balls brush against me and I wonder what it will feel like to have him inside me. He moves lower down the bed, pushing my legs apart. He massages each of my feet, then up the back of each of my calves, further up the backs of my legs. Every now and then, he rains down little kisses, licks, nips and bites over my body. His hands finally reach my bum again, and he drags a finger all the way through the middle; all the way down but stops short of pushing it inside me. His body covers mine, and I feel his cock resting at my arse crack.
“Turn over,” he whispers in my ear. My limbs feel heavy as he eases off me, giving me the space to turn onto my back.
There’s barely any light in the room, just what’s shining in from the street below, but it’s enough to make out his outline as he kneels between my legs. He lifts my leg by the ankle and kisses all the way to the top of my thigh, then he repeats the action with my other leg, but instead of kisses, he drags his teeth over my delicate flesh. This time, when he gets to the top, he doesn’t stop. He swipes his finger through me while resting my foot up on his shoulder. When he gets to my opening, he moves his finger in a circle, and we both know from the slick sounds it makes that I am wet and wanting him. He bites down gently on the inside of my ankle, just above the bone and my hips buck forward. His eyes meet mine, and even if it were pitch dark in that room, I would still see them; they shine like diamonds.
“What do you want, Georgia, hmm? My fingers or my cock?” He moves his free hand and begins stroking himself as I watch. “Or do you want something else? Shall I find a toy? Shall I fuck you with something else so I can sit here and watch you come? What would you like?” Fuck. My mind is racing. I want all of those things. He pushes his finger inside me and the words just jump from my mouth.
“All of it, everything, your cock, your fingers, whatever you want. Fuck me with anything, fuck me anywhere, Roman, with anything; make me come and make me forget.” He pushes another finger inside and curls them, stroking inside me, right over my G-spot. He presses his thumb down onto my clit at the same time as he slides a finger, or maybe two, into my arse and I’m done. My orgasm rips through me, tears me in half. I call his name, my hips buck and my legs shake. It’s violent, almost painful, and it doesn’t want to stop. Just as the waves turn to ripples, he moves and slides his cock inside me, circling his hips; I feel full and stretched.
“Fuck, Georgia; fuck, that feels good.” I panic for a few seconds, wondering if I feel different, if I feel hollow inside to him, barren, like something is missing. But the way he’s moving, the noises he makes, the words he says, it must be feeling as good for him as it is for me. He slides, grinds and pushes against me, and I instantly feel another orgasm building. His hands slide under my arse cheeks; he drives deeper and it’s like an explosion as I come again. It’s different from the first, but just as good, and it peaks again as I feel him pulse and explode inside me, his head hovering above, his eyes still locked on mine.
“Baby,” he whispers with his final thrust, his arms giving way as his weight comes down on top of me, our bodies slick and sweaty but still joined. “Shit, Georgia, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” My head spins and my stomach drops; was it that bad? “Are you safe? You on the pill? I’m so sorry. I never do that, never.” Shit. We didn’t use a condom.