Page 90 of Roped

“I do,” I tell him, just as fiercely as I told him I wanted to kill that girl.

He swallows thickly. “Thought you did, but…”

“And I’m going to make you believe that too,” I vow.

Then it’s his turn to blurt out, in a completely atypical fashion, “Didn’t like talkin’ about other girls with you. Didn’t like bringin’ them between us, in our bed. No one else belongs here; you understand what I’m sayin’ to you? No one. Not a single soul, not a single secret belongs between us. It’s just you and me.”

I know. I know what he’s saying. Not those girls who came before, not my father and his sins; nothing belongs between us. And God, I’m so thankful for that. I’m so thankful that there are no shadows and secrets when we’re finally coming together.

“Just you and me,” I whisper, my eyes wet with tears.

“Just the Princess and her Phantom.”

I hiccup. “Just the Phantom and his Princess. Oh, and…” I lean up to his ear and whisper, “You don’t need a condom with me.” He stiffens and I move to look into his darkened eyes. “I have a shot. I started getting them as soon as I could because… You know, how my father is and—”

His eyes get angry at the mention of my father before he comes back down and kisses me again, halting my words. And this time, when his hands roam my body, mine roam over his. This time when he moves between my thighs, rocks against my swollen pussy, I rock back against him. Against his hard length that I can finally feel, skin to skin. It’s so slippery and hot against my core, my belly. It’s throbbing and pulsing and rubbing against me in a way that’s slowly driving me crazy. Driving me mindless and thoughtless and I pant against his mouth, “Radisson, I—”

“I know, Princess,” he whispers, his fingers on my face, his forehead rolling against mine. “I know what you need.”

“Please.”

“You trust me?”

“Yes.”

“Been a long time since I did this, but I’ll take care of you, yeah?”

This reminds me of something else he said before and I ask, “You really, uh, came in your pants when you watched me?”

Something heated flashes through his eyes as he responds, “Came in my pants the night you rode my stomach up on that cliff.”

I gasp. “No way.”

“And that day at the bar. Came the moment I tasted your cunt and you flooded my mouth with your juices.”

“Stop,” I whisper, my eyes wide. “How did I… I didn’t even notice it.”

He takes me in fondly, tenderly at that. “Yeah, don’t blame you, though. You were busy bein’ my good girl.”

I shudder at his praise.

And he simply keeps rocking into me, dragging his cock up and down my core as he gets back to business. “Wrap your thighs around me.”

I lick my lips and do it, like I do every time he takes me on a ride on Tulip. And instantly feel him hitting my spots even more intensely. His cock slipping through my folds.

“Your arms,” he says next.

And I do that, too, moving them down from his hair and putting them around his neck.

“Keep your eyes on me.”

“Okay.”

And then, he speeds up his rocking. I feel the movements of his hips, his ass against my legs and oh God, it’s divine. I notice the change in his eyes as they become even darker, and that’s divine too. And then he groans against me, his hips jerking, and that turns me on so much that I come, twisting under him and moaning. Which is when he does it. Which is when he grabs my hips with his hands to keep me still and slides inside of me. I know why he did that. I know he wanted me distracted and slippery, but I don’t think it helped.

Because holy fuck, that hurts.

It burns, the stretch, the fullness, the fact that he ripped a little piece of me like he ripped my clothes. It not only brings me out of my orgasmic daze, but I’m pretty sure I’ll pass out with how fast I am breathing. I’m pretty sure I’ll draw blood and give him additional marks with how hard I am scratching him. Even through the pain, I know I should try to ease my grip on him, but my limbs are locked tight and when I try, he doesn’t let me. Because he’s holding me just as tightly as he shudders over me. Not once or twice, but constantly. He’s shaking, sweating. His face is tucked into my neck as he pants. And I can feel his cock throbbing inside of me, in rhythm to my core fluttering. Something about that, about his desperate hold on me, makes me feel better, even though the pain is still dominant and glaring.