Page 68 of From Rome, With Hate

“Tellmeyouhate me,” I repeat around a gasping moan.

“I… “ he starts again. “Dammit, Lark, stop talking.”

He unravels my hair from around his fist, and his hand flies to my throat. He pulls me slightly away from the water, all the while still fucking me from behind. With our new position, he’s reaching me in a different spot that has blood rushing to my toes, when he brings his mouth to my ear and growls, “All I want to hear coming out of that pretty little mouth is you screaming my name as you fuck me with that beautiful wet pussy of yours.”

A rush of adrenaline shoots through me as his hand slips from around my neck. I nearly drop face first into the water before Rome catches the end of my ponytail again, pulling me back to him. He thrusts into me, harder and faster than before.

Hecan’ttell me he hates me, and I don’t know what that means. It may not mean anything at all. Perhaps Rome just wants to fuck me out of his system. Perhaps it’s what we both need.

I’m trembling the second my orgasm rips through me, and my nerves light up like a fucking Christmas tree. Between the pull he has on my hair, the grip of my wrists, and his cock filling me, my walls clench around him, and I come undone. In fact, I come hard.

“Fuck, Rome!” I cry out, my orgasm rippling through me while Rome continues to drive into me. He slaps my ass once more before suddenly pausing. His cock throbs and pulses inside me as he comes, spilling into me.

Grunting, he lets go of my hair and places a hand on my hip.

After catching his breath, Rome slowly pulls me to standing. My body aches, and I want to collapse to the floor, feeling all sleepy and satisfied. Instead, I simply stand in a puddle of bathwater on the floor, the tub continuing to overflow. I’m still panting, trying to wrap my head around what just happened, when Rome turns the water off.

It doesn’t take long for his hands to be back on me, though. He smooths one across my ribs, then down my stomach, his fingers slipping over my swollen clit. I’m still recovering from the earth-shattering orgasm he just gave me. The sensitive bud is easily worked under his touch.

I moan, throwing my head back against Rome’s shoulder, and I roll my head as his fingers circle my sore, aching pussy.

“Doesn’t matter how much time has passed,” he whispers into my ear. “I can still make you come easily and endlessly.”

Goosebumps breakout across my skin. My nipples tighten and my stomach flutters. I roll my hips, grinding against Rome’s fingers working me expertly. He moves his hand to sink his fingers inside me, plunging them deep while his thumb continues to work my clit.

I’m quivering almost immediately.

He’s fast and furious, tugging on the string pulled taut inside me. He snaps it easily, with minimal effort.

“Sing for me.”

“Oh, God, Rome.” My mouth pops open on a gasp as another orgasm tears through me. I moan, stifling my groan by biting my bottom lip. With my hands tied behind my back, I have little control. I pull on my ties and grind my hips against Rome as my orgasm shatters me.

He moves his free hand to my mouth, forcing it open. A whimper and moan crawl up my throat. Rome’s smile against the space behind my ear tells me all I need to know. I’ve sung for him, just as he requested.

He couldn’t tell me he hated me, but he’s clearly happy that I still sing for him and only him.

“The most beautiful sound,” he says as I fall against him.

Two orgasms back-to-back. A familiar sense of comfort wraps around me. The kind I’ve only ever felt from my family’s enemy, which is a contradiction of epic proportions.

Reality hits me the second I feel his absence behind me. He unravels the tie behind my back, and my shoulders ache when I bring my arms forward. The red stripes marking my wrists are evidence of the shift between us.

I’m still catching my breath when I glance over my shoulder to look at him standing behind me, with only a few inches between us. It feels like too much space considering what we just did. There’s a lingering fire of satisfaction in his gaze, but it’s mixed with something else. Regret, maybe?

I fucking hope not.

He leans forward, far enough to plant a kiss to my bare shoulder, then my forehead, before stepping back.

“Rome.” I swallow thickly, reality slamming into me as I turn to face him completely.

“Lark.” His gaze is still dark, lust and satisfaction swirling in his intense blue stare.

I can’t find the words to describe what this moment means, but I can tell Rome understands, too. We might have had shit communication skills in the past, but we’ve always been able to see the other once we’ve allowed the other in.

And that’s what we’ve done. The shooting practice was the beginning of lowering our defenses, and now we’ve shown each other who we are.

Now what?