Tenderly. Never a word I’d associate with Rocco Shay, but here we are.
Hands to his cheeks, I pull his face to mine, letting my mouth find his.
He’s overwhelmed and elated, but so far down in his own tunnel of self-doubt, he can’t see straight. He’s geared himself up for failure, anyone can see that. Too afraid to get too close, but petrified of keeping his distance.
Patience isn’t a virtue Rocco holds in spades. But it’s a quality he knows he’ll have to embrace if he wants to build a lasting relationship with his children.
He spent the day with them both, working to connect in any small way. They’re a closed fucking book though. Their feelings, thoughts, and dare I say it, motives, indecipherable. All I managed to pull out of him so far was that for every step forward, it felt like a falling elevator back down when he’d stumble.
It’s now eleven pm, and after a cumbersome dinner that we clawed through, the twins finally crashed out. Which means, this is the first time we’ve been alone since this morning. Since the moment we promised all in, sealing it with a kiss I won’t soon forget.
I have my doubts that he’s ready to commit to something so significant with everything he has going on, but he seems resolute in his declaration.
He told me he loved me, and maybe I’ll be left broken-hearted in the end, but I believe him.
I’ve avoided relationships since Jonathan for obvious reasons. Trust wasn’t high on my gift list to others. I was afraid and rightfully cautious. I’ve slept with men since Jonathan. I forced myself to claim back my body in a way that I wanted, but I could never lose myself enough in the moment to get out of my head. I let men fuck me for the sake of doing so. I pushed myself to open my legs to prove I could. I didn’t necessarily enjoy it. But I did it. I used faceless men to erase the hold he held over me; in consciousness, in sleep.
Then my feelings for Rocco sparked. Burst to life with butterflies in my stomach and a want to touch him. I longed for him to look at me with desire in his eyes. No matter how much I originally rejected the thought. I wanted his hands on me, caressing my skin, breaking down my walls. I no longer needed to force my legs open, they craved to wrap around him, to feel the strength of his waist between them.
I’m giddy over Rocco Shay and even that thought makes me want to giggle like a schoolgirl. Jesus. I was never this person. Before Jonathan and after. I was never gaga about sex. I enjoyed it, sure, but it was never powerful enough to scatter my brain.
Rocco shot through me like a surprise I wasn’t ready for. The person I’ve learned he is, is healing my heart and mind in a way I didn’t know was possible. Now my body wants him to do the same. I need the passion he holds for me to heal my wounds. I was done with being lonely. I was done with being alone. I just hadn’t realized it until Rocco stumbled into my life, showing me the beauty in a broken soul.
The rough brush of his beard tickles my mouth as he kisses me. Lips softer than I imagined. Our tongues push together in tender strokes.
A lump in my throat forms, my emotions wreaking havoc within me. He tastes like freedom, lips closing over mine in the promise of safety.
I’m ashamed to admit that I made assumptions about Rocco. I judged his appearance and decided he’d be a pushy lover. One that would be consumed by his own pleasure.
I was wrong.
Hands, large enough to swallow my throat, remain planted against the mattress by my head. The weight of his body, heavy enough to pin me down, remains suspended above me. With only his lips and tongue drifting across mine, I feel pleasantly possessed. Brazenly adored.
As lost in the moment as I am, he groans into my mouth. The rough burr shoots desire through my body, the feeling exploding wickedly at the apex of my thighs.
This is how it should feel.
I moan, hands twisting into the soft cotton of his shirt, pulling him closer. He fights me, pushing himself up higher, almost out of reach. My mouth chases his, neck arched uncomfortably to ensure he can’t disconnect.
Yanking at his shirt again, he laughs into my mouth.
“Stop it.”
Breaking our kiss, I look at him in confusion.
Eyes focused on the swell of my well-kissed lips, he growls. “I ain’t gonna touch you, Cami,” he tells me, his voice rougher than I’ve ever heard it. Thick with the hunger he’s refusing to give into. “Not until you’re ready.”
Pushing my elbows up beneath me, I kiss along his jaw. “Who says I’m not ready?”
“I do.”
Teeth gnawing at my lip in indecision, I pressure my voice to speak. “How will you know I’m ready?”
Dropping his mouth to my ear, his tongue caresses my lobe, pulling it between his teeth. “You’ll beg me.”
I laugh, the sound completely lost to the moan I let out as his lips drift across my neck. “Beg you?” I whimper.
“Yeah, beauty. You’ll beg for my cock.” He sucks on the delicate line of my neck hard enough that I know it’ll leave a mark. “You’ll plead with me to put you out of your misery and make you come. You’ll walk around with damp panties for days, weeks before I’ll give it to you. You’ll well and truly move past the juvenile feeling of want and move into a desperation only I’ll be able to cure.”
Lifting his head, a salacious smirk tips his lips upward. “That’s when I know you’ll be ready.”
“But...” I argue meekly.
“But what?”
How do I tell him I need him now? That my body is buzzing in a way I haven’t felt in years. That I don’t want to lose that. That I want to grab hold and let it be mine.
“You want to be touched?” he murmurs. “You’re wet for me now?” He presses, his tone begging me to say yes.
I nod, my voice unable to find its power.
“So touch yourself.”
He shifts backward, taking my hand to cup it over my pussy through my pants.
I cry out in pleasure, the simple thrill of my own hand gripping me sending tremors through my body.
“In front of you?” I swallow, unable to remove my hand. The feeling too addictive, too gratifying to stop.
“Yes,” he answers coarsely.
“You wanna watch?” I ask hesitantly.
“I’d kill a man to watch, beauty. You want me to watch?”
I don’t need to think about it. “Yes.”
Head tipped back, he growls at the ceiling.
Palm rubbing across his jaw, he rights his head, watching me. There’s something about lust that changes someone’s eyes. The way their eyelids drop just that much; heavy and hypnotic. The change in color; the darkening of their iris that promises a carnality you’re not quite used to.
“I’m gonna stand against the wall,” he husks out. “Control my hands reachin’ for you.”
“No,” I rush out. “No,” I repeat more calmly. “Stay close. I want you to do it too? Touch yourself for me, Rocco.”
His hand falls to his crotch subconsciously, his large hand gripping it tightly. The generous bulge of his Adam’s apple slides up and down the line of his throat.
“Please,” I beg.
He says nothing, watching me in silence.
Unable to stand the quiet any longer, my hands grip the waist of my lounge pants and I tip my hips upward, sliding them over my ass and down my legs before I can second guess myself.