Bane

“Harder,” he taunted. “I’m denting your ass from the inside. Least you can do is leave a pretty little mark on me.” Roman laughed, smashing his lips to mine with a kiss that made it clear that he owned my body—every inch of it—and all the things inside it. Every thought and heartbeat. Every painful breath. His.

I raked my fingernails down his back, returning the violence when his tongue went to war with mine. Heat pooled in my lower stomach, his cock stretching me out and swelling inside me, twitching, circling, pounding.

“That’s my fighter.” He chuckled, adjusting our position by hoisting me upward by my ass with his rough fingers with one hand while twisting my nipple with the other. I squeaked, watching as he lowered his beautiful face to suck the pain away, so hard yet so delicate, and even though there was nothing I wanted more than to run my hand through his strings of golden mane, I held myself back.

This time, the trembling started from my fingertips, working its way up and heating my body like a blanket. I was coming, but this time it felt different. Like an epiphany. I reached for his ass to squeeze as I shuddered between him and the wall, but he swatted my hands away, pushing me off and splaying his fingers over my neck, pinning me to the wall.

“I’m not your goddamn girlfriend, Jesse. You don’t get to squeeze my ass unless it’s to hold back a choke from my cock pounding into your mouth. We clear about that?”

I didn’t know what it was about his dirty brazen words that completely unraveled the old Jesse, but she was back, and she was clasping his cock in her sex in a vise, like a fist, laughing into his face with wild abandon.

“Jesus,” came from somewhere in the back of my throat as I came around his shaft, shaking violently. He only pumped harder, and my back was burning from the friction against the wall.

“Coming,” he said, just one word, and I nodded, thinking he was going to finish inside me, but he pulled out slowly instead, his swift movement radiating self-control, and angled his tip so that he came all over my clit. White spurts of cum grazed the delicate flesh of my sex, and he swirled the cum with his cock, rubbing it into my already sensitive yet neglected clit. The second orgasm burst out of me like fireworks. I sifted through his hair and brought him closer for a greedy kiss, biting his lower lip and tugging way too hard.

“Roman.” Again. One word. Not a request, not a plea, and not a statement. Rather, a spell I was falling deeper and deeper under, not bothering to go back up for a quick breath.

He pulled away from me, narrowing his eyes and tugging his wetsuit back up, his cock still half-erect between us.

He turned around, leaving me to slide down to my ass against his wall, sagging with post-climax bliss. He walked over to his coffee table, retrieved a blunt, and lit it casually, like we hadn’t just done what we had. Like we hadn’t broken any rules, or promises, or even—potentially—my heart.

“What’s the antonym of hate?” I blurted, drunk on pleasure.

He collapsed to his couch, cupping the joint with his thumb and forefinger and sucking hard. “Jesse.”

We managed to squeeze in one more quickie in the shower after the kitchenette sex. Again, Roman showed zero mercy on me, which explained why he’d held back for so long on touching me. He had a take-no-prisoners approach to sex, and missionary wasn’t only not on the menu for him, but I doubted it was even in his vocabulary. The shower sex involved me bent over, holding onto the faucet, while he pounded into me from behind, playing with my sex and letting me taste myself on his fingers every now and again. I was surprised by how open and uninhibited he was with me, but I shouldn’t have been. Just because Roman was a nice guy didn’t mean he wasn’t a savage. He was both. And it was part of his charm.

As we finally got dressed in his tiny, humid bathroom, I took it upon myself to iron his wrinkled, flimsy California Republic tank with my hands.

“Do I get the invoice in the mail, or do I pay you in Café Diem shifts?” My voice was playful, but the actual comment was snarky. I couldn’t help it, though. A part of me was pissed that I wasn’t the only one. That what we did was probably an appetizer for a tour de force involving a married couple, their dog, and a dildo. Okay. Maybe not all of them, but still.

Roman flipped his car keys with his forefinger, shooting me a bored look. “I should drop you as a client for that wise mouth alone.”

“So, do.” I waltzed past him to the living room. His big strides echoed behind me.

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because I quit.”

I turned around, blinking rapidly. “Come again?”

“Planning to. This time between your tits.” He smacked my ass, moving forward, casually grabbing a can of beer from the fridge and popping it open. It was not even ten in the morning. Jesus. “I quit,” he repeated, taking a gulp. “My dick is officially retired and closed for business.”

“When?” I gulped, pretty proud of myself for not stuttering.

“Yesterday.”

“Before or after our sexting?” I leaned a shoulder against the same wall we’d screwed against earlier that morning. There was a damp spot of cum gracing the chipped yellow surface, and it took everything in me not to slide back on my knees and scrub it clean.

Roman finished the beer in a gulp and slam-dunked it to the sink. “Before. Remember my whole speech about looking at yourself in the mirror without flinching?”

“Yeah.”

“Couldn’t do that anymore.”

“Do what?”

“Fuck other women when I had a girlfriend.”

It was the second time he had called me that, but this time, there was a question mark at the end of the sentence. It felt like a proposal. It felt like a thousand caterpillars turning into dazzling butterflies all at the same time in my stomach, hopeful and alive. I searched his face, trying to find doubt. Humor. Deceit. Anything that would make it less real and anchor me back to earth. His face was blank. The perfect poker expression.

“I am?” I grinned.

“You tell me.” He hitched one shoulder up, his defensive wall rising, almost reaching his eyes.

“I mean, you quit your glamorous job for me. Can’t really say no to you now.”

“You can always say no to me,” he countered, meaning it.

“I want to be your girlfriend, Roman.”

“Good. Because there’s a list of things I want to do to you, and none of them fall into the friend-zone category.” He walked over to me, dropping three kisses on my mouth, nose, and chin. My heart felt mossy. Soft-walled. So easy to break in his dirty big hands.

“About this morning…” He started.

“I’m on the pill.” I stood on my tiptoes, brushing my lips against his. They were both cracked and sore, and we winced a little before I pulled away.

“I know.” He trailed a finger down my arm.

I didn’t even need to ask how he knew. I was religious about taking my pills ever since the abortion. Ever since I was too scared to tell the doctors what happened, so they’d never offered me the morning-after pill. The foil package sat on my nightstand, next to a bottle of Fiji water. I took one every morning before brushing my teeth.

We marched through the door, heading for his truck, and maybe he was the same old infamous Bane Protsenko, but I walked out of there different from the person I’d been when I’d first walked in.

Alive.

Alert.

In bloom.

Old Jesse was no longer knocking on my soul’s door. She’d kicked that thing down.

And all the light streamed in.

“Well, someone looks thoroughly fucked.” Gail snickered as she pushed the ice fridge shut with her ass, flinging a kitchen towel over her shoulder. Roman had said he had to go to city hall for a business meeting—something about SurfCity—and I actually didn’t mind spending some time away from him. I’d enjoyed our morning together, but I also enjoyed being my own person. Facing the world independently, even if from behind Café Diem’s trendy counter. I liked this job, and that made me happy, because it made me the opposite of Pam. She frowned upon jobs in general, thought life was meant for shopping and socializing.

Turning scarlet red, I grinned, slicing the strawberries on the board in front of me into miniscule pieces. “Shut up.”

“It’s okay. There’s not one girl in this room who can’t relate to wanting to screw Bane Protsenko senseless. I’m guessing you got a free sample? Does he offer a weekly pass?” Gail elbowed my ribs, her eyes scanning me up and down. I flipped her the bird, then proceeded to wash my hands before cutting fruit for the smoothies.

“Seriously, Gail, you need professional help. And dick. Perhaps especially that. I’ll see if Beck is available.”

“No, thanks. I’d rather rub myself against an iceberg. And I’ll take that as a no.”

It felt so normal talking to someone like that. Like a friend. My grin spread wider over my face.

“Ding ding, what’s that? Yup, it’s my lunch break. See you in half an hour.” I grabbed my phone and the smoothie I’d made for myself and dodged the scene. I waved the device in my hand. “I’ll be outside if you need me.”

“Hey, you just got here! His jerk-ism is rubbing off on you, and I bet it’s not the only thing.” She laughed, wiping coffee beans off the surface in front of her.

“You’re funny.” I pushed my shoulder to the glass door. “Keep it up.”

“Probably not. Don’t wanna mess with boyfriend dearest and find myself in the ER.”

“Huh?” I blinked. Gail leaned her elbows on the counter, whisper-shouting for everyone to hear. “Rumor has it Bane almost kicked Hale’s ass for hitting on you. I think you have an admirer, Jesse.”

I slipped out of Café Diem, wondering what else I didn’t know about Roman and his behavior. If he’d touched Hale for flirting with me, I wasn’t sure how he was going to react when Emery, Henry, and Nolan finally dragged their butts back to Todos Santos. I didn’t want to know, either. I appreciated his protective ways, but I wanted to take care of myself. In fact, it seemed mandatory after everything that had gone down.