Page 48 of From Rome, With Hate

“Yes.” His fingers spread as he smooths his palm across my thigh, up to my hip before moving along my stomach. I lean back on my hands again, tipping my chin, inhaling hard.

“We agreed we were free to fuck other people.” I gasp when his hand causes me to tremble beneath him. “If I am just a possession to you, it shouldn’t have mattered.”

“What about Will, then? Don’t tell me you didn’t imagine fucking him before we split.” He cuts me a glare.

“I hate you.” It’s the only argument I have. It’s hard to concentrate on a suitable rebuttal when his hands are on me this way.

His only response is to slide his hand across my stomach and up between my breasts before landing on my neck.

I tip my head back as he wraps his fingers around it, pressing against my pulse. I drop my gaze as he tightens his grip on me.

“Tell me, Lark.” His eyes burn at the sight of his hand around my neck. “Did you scream their name the way you would mine?”

I’m panting. My entire body is burning. At this point, every inch of me feels like the injury to my leg. I have no idea if it’s still bleeding or how bad the damage is. All I care about is the way Rome has his hand wrapped around me, like he’s ready to devour me.

Shifting his weight, he keeps his hand on my throat as he moves between my legs, parting them. He jerks his hips, pressing his cock at the sensitive spot between my thighs. My head falls back, gasping with the sudden, welcome intrusion.

“Did your cunt cry for them the way it does for me?” His jaw tightens, and he works the muscles there.

“I’m not answering that question.”

A feeble whimper escapes me as his stiff cock presses against my body. Not wearing any underwear while wearing thin leggings amplifies every stroke as he rubs himself against me.

“For fuck’s sake. Tell the truth for once.”

“I have.” I wrap my hand around his on my throat in return.

“No, you haven’t.” He rocks his hips again. “You’re a fucking snake disguised as a bird. You think you’re so innocent? You think you’re only one who’s been hurt? You think you’re the only one who has felt immense loss?”

“You…” I sigh, my eyes dropping to his mouth as I rub my soaking wet cunt against his hardened cock. “You have no soul.”

My confession changes his pace in an instant. It’s as if he’s out to prove me wrong. His hand moves from my neck down to my chest. Wrapping his fingers around the scalloped collar of my top, he pulls it down, and my breast pops free, the chilly wet air causing my nipple to peak.

“You and I,” he whispers against my skin, his mouth dangerously close to my breast. “You and I are one and the same.”

Then he’s sinking his teeth into my breast. He bites down before dragging his tongue along the curve and pulling my nipple into his mouth. He sucks hard, puckering his lips around it. The sting sends a shockwave down to my clit.

I try to back away, pushing back on the heels of my hands, but the shooting pain in my leg gives me pause. Even still, Rome doesn’t let me move. He grips onto my breast tighter and moves one hand to the back of my knee, sending me a wicked grin before bringing his mouth to my nipple again.

“I hate you.” I grip the back of his head, weaving my fingers between the wet strands. “I fuckinghateyou.” The storm clouds continue to rumble above us, and I know it’s probably dangerous staying on this bridge, but I don’t care. I give up the fight. The knot that’s been choking me for years is unraveling. Every ounce of anger and resentment I have toward Rome is pouring out of me with every lick, suck, bite, and stroke.

“Sounds like it.” He slips his hand over my pussy. “Feels like it.”

“We are nothing alike,” I choke out.

My lie propels him. His darkened gaze rises before he takes my nipple between his sharp teeth and pulls it up before snapping it back.

I cry out, then he’s pushing up onto his knees. I’ve barely had a second to register the shift when he’s pulling on my leggings. He yanks them down past my ass until they’re down past my knees, and his mouth curls into a smirk at the sight of me completely bare. Like a moth drawn to a flame, his eyes shoot straight for the tattoo just below my hip bone, inked into the delicate flesh where my hip meets my thigh.

A dark red rose the size of my palm.

His eyes flash with the memories—it’s impossible to miss. His jaw tightens as though he’s holding himself back from saying the words sitting at the tip of his tongue.

Finally, he looks back up into my eyes, and heat spreads to my cheeks, his intense gaze setting me on fire. I’ve lost all control. I want more. I need more.

“Apparently, I never kept underwear here.” It’s the first thought that comes to mind.

“Now I’m remembering why.” He lifts my legs over his shoulders to dip his head between my thighs. The cuts along my skin burn from the leggings now wrapped around my ankles, but the pleasure coursing through my body overshadows the pain.