Modern Romance June 2016 Books 5-8. Tara Pammi
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are you doing?’
‘Just wait here,’ he said, and she wrapped her arms around herself in an attempt to stay warm. Finally he came out, carrying a bag, and she asked what was in it.
‘Never mind.’
They walked further until they came to the large grey house where Roman had a bedsit.
They dropped contact. He walked ahead of her and she followed him up a set of stairs. He took out a key and opened a door but again she was told to wait outside.
‘Roman?’
Anya did not like this house and knew there could be trouble but she waited nervously, wondering what the hell he was up to.
The door opened a moment later and she stepped in and though she did not acknowledge to Roman that she knew, she saw that on the mattress on the floor were new sheets and a fresh pillowcase.
It had taken just a moment for him to make up the mattress. After all, he had spent his life rising early and making his bed, but that he had done what he could to make this room as pleasing as possible for her meant everything to Anya.
Alone in his room they weren’t shy, perhaps just a little awkward at first.
It was almost as cold in the room as it was outside and Roman fed coins into a meter and a small heater came on, but it would take ages to heat the room.
‘Get undressed,’ he said.
Perhaps not romantic but as Anya took off her clothes he put them on a chair by the heater so they would be warm when she dressed.
From her time in changing rooms Anya was very comfortable dressing and undressing in front of others but now she could feel his eyes on her body and it made her blush, though not in embarrassment.
Shivering, she got onto the mattress and slipped under the starchy sheet and watched as he now undressed. She was glad there was no curtain on the small window. A dusky grey wintery sky above allowed her to see his body as he peeled off his jumper.
He was magnificent. Broad and muscular and, though she was used to toned bodies, his was absolute bliss. There were black and purple bruises on his chest from his fight yesterday, and the paleness of his skin made her hand want to reach out.
He retrieved the condoms he had bought and tossed them down to the floor by the mattress then pulled down black jeans and his underwear. Anya felt her breath burn in her lungs at the sight of him. The thought of that inside her made her feel nervous and excited. As he came over and got onto the low mattress it was only the cold that kept her under the sheet, but he peeled it off and would keep her warm with his skin.
She felt his arms and wanted them to be wrapped around her and she ran her hand over his thigh, just enjoying the strength of him and that finally they could touch and hold each other.
He reached over for the condoms.
‘Roman...’ Anya said. ‘Kiss me first.’
He kissed her again, and it was deeper than last time, rougher than in the alley, and she tried to slow him down with her tongue. His hands played with her small breasts and he moaned into her mouth.
‘Taste them,’ Anya begged.
He did and he licked and sucked so hard that it caused the most delicious of hurts. She could feel him hard against her thigh and then again his hands patted outside the mattress for the condoms.
‘Wait,’ Anya said, because she wanted more of his mouth.
‘I don’t want to wait,’ he said, and he rolled onto his back, annoyed at the tease as Anya climbed on and sat on his stomach,
He did not like the kisses that trailed over his chest, and the nip of her teeth on his nipples, or rather he did but he did not want to feel her wet sex on his stomach when he wanted to be inside.
‘I want to come,’ he said, and she lifted and knelt, but instead of lowering herself onto his hard length she sat on his thighs and took his erection in her hand and started to stroke him.
‘I can do that myself.’
She was too slow, too tender and she watched his sulky face as she stroked him.
‘We’d be finished by now if I’d left it to you,’ she said.
‘I want to be finished.’ Roman had grown up used to a very quick come in the shower, and even now that was his preferred place.
Sex he liked hard and fast. Where was the pleasure in lying back, watching someone stroke him?
‘You’re too slow.’
‘Do it yourself then,’ she said, and got off. Then she decided to do something that he could not do for himself and knelt aside him. She heard his raw moan as she tasted him, as she licked his head and then slid her mouth down and sucked him.
‘More...’ he moaned.
And more Anya gave. She licked and sucked and loved the pressure he exerted with his hand to her head and the way his voice told her to go harder, take him deeper.
He held her hair and thrust into her and Anya wanted to touch herself because she was so close to coming.
Then she felt him swell and a powerful rush into her mouth and she tasted his salt and heard his ragged breathing as he lay there with his eyes closed.
And when he opened them Roman could not see her at first, for she was lying down, her head by his feet.
‘My turn now.’
He knelt up and hauled her over, parted her legs and looked down at her.
‘You’re beautiful, Anya,’ he said, and his fingers explored her intimate lips.
She propped herself up on her elbows and looked down. ‘When I touch myself to you...’ she pointed ‘...I touch there.’
He was hardening again, from looking at her and thinking of Anya touching herself to him.
And her finger showed him the little bud and then his hand swept her finger away and he lowered his head.
Her sob told him he hit exactly the right location, so he sucked her there and then blew and sucked and licked till it was Anya who swore, and who pleaded for more.
He parted her thighs further and he was still rough but now expert. His unshaven jaw felt delicious, the probe of his tongue so sublime that not even her elbows could hold her and she went onto her back and arched up.
She started to moan, he told her to hush, but he said it into her sex. Anya gritted her teeth and tried to hold onto the scream and as she did, the tension released to his mouth, his lips thrummed to the pulse of her and then Roman lowered her hips.
Anya felt spent. Her thighs were together and her hand covered her sex as it ached yet she was high on arousal and he moved so that he was over her body and on his elbows, looking down.
‘I don’t want to hurt you,’ he said.
‘I want you to,’ she said, and she peeled her hand away and his muscled thigh parted her legs.
He held onto himself as if holding himself back and then he entered a little. His face was beside hers and he heard her sob and he pulled back.
He tried again and it hurt so much she let out a cry of pain. ‘Just do it,’ she said.
‘Anya?’
‘Please.’
He did so and it killed her. The tear and stretch as he filled her was a heated agony and the feel as he hit her cervix was so bruising that she felt sick, and then she opened her eyes and he was deep inside her.
He kissed her in a way that he had not before. It started as an apology, then a kiss to chase away the pain. This was a kiss she wanted, tender, breathless, and as he started to move inside her the pain was replaced by warmth and she soon found she was moving