Sweet Rome (Sweet Home 1.5)

“Ah, Romeo… I…” Molly rode me faster, her pu**y clamping down as I focused on her G-spot with my fingers and her clit simultaneously.

She was burning hot. By her rock-hard ni**les, flushed face, and heavy eyes, I knew she was about to come, hard. “Let go, Mol… fuckin’ let go,” I instructed, and with one more thrust, she cried out loudly. I wanted to devour her screams so I smashed her lips to mine, her hand unrelenting on my c**k as she hit her peak.

At the sight of her letting go, my balls tightened and, quickly lifting Mol, I rolled my hips to the side, groaning as streams of cum spread onto the grass beside me. She slowly moved her hand, but I didn’t withdraw my finger from within her, wasn’t ready to. I didn’t want this addicting feeling to end.

The reality of what just happened between us sank in. Mol leaned forward and I kissed and nipped at her damp skin. My finger gently stroked against her clit, her breath hitching when it all became too much, too sensitive.

Leaning back from the safety of my embrace, she smiled shyly. Damn, she was beautiful.

“Hey, Mol,” I whispered, my hand raking through a loose piece of hair in front of her face.

“Hey, you,” she murmured back, but she was giving nothing away. In fact, she was being too shy. I instantly began to panic that I’d been too rough, too aggressive for her.

Fuck, was she hurt?

“You okay?” I asked tersely, every muscle fiber tensed for her response.

Her caramel eyes focused on the ground and shame surged through me—I knew the way I was—no holds barred—was pretty f**ked up, probably too much for someone like Molly to understand.

But then she spoke, almost knocking me to the floor in shock. “More than okay.”

“Look at me,” I snapped out immediately. And f**k, she did… Right away.

Searching her eyes, I asked, “You liked that? You liked how I spoke to you, how I ordered you?”

She met my intense stare but didn’t say a damn word. Shifting in nerves, I demanded again, “Mol, you did like it… didn’t you?”

Fuck. The thought of losing her crushed me, my voice catching with emotion.

Stroking a finger down my face, her expression filled with affection, she whispered, “I did, Romeo. I-I didn’t know that I’d like it… like that… but… I think we both know I did.”

Muscles stretched, lips spread, and I knew I was f**king smiling—hell, not smiling, beaming. Needing another chance to touch her, I gripped her hands, waggling my brows, and ran them down my ribs. A questioning smile tugged at her lips.

“Are they all there?” I asked, loving feeling this free—light enough to joke, watching her lips purse in confusion, not following my meaning.

“What?”

“My ribs. Is there one missing?”

Careening forward and holding my waist, she muttered in amusement, “Okay, I think you’ve lost it. You think you’re missing a rib?”

“Just thought God took one of mine when he made you.” I knew that sounded lame, but f**k, I sucked at romance, and a girl like my Mol, well, she should have the best said to her, the most romantic words written about her. I didn’t have that in me, couldn’t give her what she deserved… but I was fortunate enough that she wanted me regardless, and finally, all them damn years at Sunday School were coming in useful. Hell, the way I was feeling right now, I’d stand dead center in Bryant-Denny and spout f**king poetry if it made her smile.

“Romeo, at times you’re really sweet, you know that?”

Sweet? Fine, I’d take that. “Only for you.”

Molly took my hand in hers and, pressing lazy kisses on my palm, got lost in her thoughts. Her eyes glazed with worry and she licked along her bottom lip.

Something was definitely up.

“What you thinking?”

“When you say you like to order, just how far does that need to dominate go?” she blurted, her face flushing red with either nerves or embarrassment. I wasn’t sure.

I couldn’t help it, but I burst out laughing. Fuck! She thought I wanted to tie her to a damn bed and whip the shit out of her? Mmm… I could see how it would be enticing, but it wasn’t exactly my thing.

Facing Molly once again, her bastard teasing thumbnail back in her mouth, I assured her, “I’m not a sadist, so you can take that look off your pretty face. I just like to be in control… I don’t know… It’s how I am. There are some pretty shitty things in my life that I can’t have power over so I need it with the things I’m good at. I just need the assurance that I’m in charge. I’m a good QB because I like to lead, run the show. It’s the same with sex.”

Tipping my chin, I urged her to respond.

Swallowing hard, she whispered, “I liked how you took control. I’m so used to having to be independent and self-sufficient, always making the decisions, and I hate it. That felt… freeing to give myself over to you, to hand over the reins.”

Wrapping her in my arms, I jolted her right into my chest, my possessive desperation for her stronger than ever before. “You’re mine now, Mol. You know that, right? I’ve never had anyone respond to me like you do—every move, kiss, and stroke—full and complete surrender of yourself.” I worked a finger again, still inside her. I needed to see her come again. But this time she’d be coming as mine, full disclosure… I owned her now and she, in turn, me.