Page 158 of The Dollhouse

I didn’t like alcohol, not really, but my parents brought it out of me. They made me want to drink. They made me want to scream. They made me wish I would’ve said yes to Roman’s earlier offer of killing them. How wrong was that? Ten seconds with my parents and I wanted them dead. If they had a superpower, it’d be pissing me off.

Roman and Carter did as I asked, and I watched from a distance as my parents were introduced to the colorful characters in the great room. Not the people from Hillcrest, not the ones they’d actually want to meet, but Lola and Sylvester and Maddox and Viper. Lola looked to be obnoxious, if the rigid postures my parents took just after being introduced meant anything, and I watched her tap the necklace of sapphires on my mother’s neck. I nearly choked in laughter when my mother swatted her hand away in indignation.

Oh, God. That was good.

Roman left Carter’s side, zigzagging through the crowd of people to reach me in the hall. We were alone together, minus the coming and going waiters. Still, when he reached for me, setting a possessive, firm hand on my hip, I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. The nerves, the tension, the anxiety… the hate for my parents. It was all too much.

“How are you doing with all this?” Roman asked, his head tilted down toward me, voice low and gruff, and for a moment, I closed my eyes and reveled in the sensation of his hand on my hip, the way his fingers dug into my dress and bunched it up a bit. How his voice fell over me, creeping down my spine.

I wanted him to throw me over his shoulders and take me upstairs. I wanted him to help me loosen up, because seeing my parents had made me remember all the vitriol and hate I felt for them. I wanted to relax before getting up on that stage and giving everyone here one hell of a show.

And this time there’d be a pole to swing around. Their pure hearts, as fake as they were, would be shocked at the display of raunchiness, to say the least. I was expecting half of them to try to storm out… but I’d told the waiters to block the exits until the show was over, and my men would do their best to keep everyone watching, too—though they’d be more focused on my parents and making sure they saw every bit of it.

“I’m glad it’s going to be done,” I ended up saying, staring deep into his eyes. Such darkness. I got lost in them any time I really looked inside their brown depths. The chocolate color in Roman’s eyes was only a shade below black, and depending on the light of the room, sometimes I swore they were blacker than a starless, moonless night.

This man… he was everything to me. He had breathed life into me when I’d thought I had nothing left. Roman had helped me in ways I couldn’t explain, pushed me into being more than the runaway Hillcrest girl I was. He took me, marked me, claimed me, and now he would never let me go. I knew that just by staring up into his eyes, knew it by the expression on his face.

“I can’t wait to be done with this place,” I added in a whisper, feeling his body step closer to mine. Roman stood so tall, he nearly blocked out the rest of the hall. All I could see was him. In this moment, he was all that mattered to me.

“I know,” he said. “Soon.” His hand still rested on my hip, and I turned my head, peering around his wide chest to see if we were alone in the hall. The hand’s grip tightened to the point where it might bruise, but I didn’t care. It told me Roman was thinking about the same thing I was: how he wished we could go somewhere for a few moments and steal some time for ourselves before the big finale.

And who the fuck said we couldn’t? Let’s do it.

Leaning into Roman, I ran my hand down his chest, unbuttoning his suit jacket and digging a finger around his belt. I imagined he gave me quite a look, though I couldn’t see most of it behind his mask. My lips curled into a smile, and I dipped my hand even lower, settling it between his legs, running my palm over his pants and instantly bringing to life the hungry beast inside him, the one that always waited for me, eternally ravenous.

“Zoey,” Roman growled out, the tone he used telling. He was ready to go just like that, his cock coming to life under my hand, and I felt the hardness grow and grow with each passing second. My name had been a whispered warning on his tongue, and my thighs squeezed together of their own accord.

“Roman,” I purred out, acting innocent, as if I wasn’t rubbing his hard cock through his pants, stroking the monster, the beast inside. As if I didn’t want that said beast to fuck me silly. Who cared if my damn dress got fucked up? I’d tear the whole thing off me soon enough, once I got on that fucking stage. Might as well have some fun before then, right?

“Shouldn’t you get back in there and entertain your parents?” Roman’s deep, guttural voice hissed out, threatening in the way it wrapped around me and took hold of everything I was. He didn’t even need to put a hand around my throat; his voice had the power to pin me down on its own.

“I will,” I whispered back, “but first, I think I need a little something from you.”

“Little?” The word echoed from his chest like an insult, and it was like his cock knew to be angry. I felt it twitching under my palm, throbbing in his pants. Within the next moment, I was pinned against the wall, my hand on his dick swatted aside so he could press his lower half against me.

“Okay,” I spoke with a gulp. “A big something.” Feeling that thick cock grind into me was more than enough to get me to admit I was a liar if I ever called him small. Roman wasn’t small. No part of him was tiny. He was big, thick, well-built beneath that suit, a devil of a man. He was someone any woman would bend over backward to have. Hell, even some men.

But Roman didn’t swing that way. He only swung my way, and knowing I had this man all to myself made me feel some kind of way.

“What am I going to do with you?” he asked, the words thrumming in his throat as he glared down at me, fire in those black eyes. His hands were fists on the wall on either side of me, blocking any hope of escape. As if I’d run from him after starting this.

“I could think of a few things.” And then I added, “Just don’t mess up the makeup.” No face-fucking right now. If Roman wanted that, he could wait until later. Right now, I needed relief in my lower half, as did he. It was time we were together, fucking senselessly, without a care, like we used to.

Roman let out a growl, and the sound damn near melted my panties right off. Heat flooded me the moment he curled a hand around the back of my neck and pulled me off the wall. He brought me through the hall, swinging us into the large kitchen, which was bustling with the waiters and waitresses coming and going, refilling their trays and grabbing more drinks to hand out.

“Get out,” Roman growled out, and it was only because he was holding me in front of him that they didn’t see the bulge in his pants. The workers realized it was an order from the man that had hired them, and they hurried out of the kitchen, tossing a few looks my way. He didn’t tell them not to come back in, but the meaning was implied.

We were alone in the giant kitchen, nothing but the sounds of a party far away, along with breathing from Roman that was already ragged.

Hand still around the back of my neck, he brought me to the island, where extra trays sat. He forced me to bend over it, sticking my ass out. He ground his midsection upon it, his cock as hard as ever. “Is this what you want?” Roman growled out, the words harsh and powerful. “You want me to help you forget, hmm? I’ll make you scream my name, Zoey Marbella. I’ll make you beg for my cock to fill you, and once it does, you’ll come undone like you always do.” His thick, strong body leaned over mine, the words whispered in my ear.

All I could do was shiver in response and pant out a quick, “Yes.”

“Yes, what? Tell me what you want me to do.” The hand on the back of my neck curled around it harder. “And be specific.”

“I want you to touch me,” I murmured. “I want to come on your cock and feel you inside me.” I’d never been much for dirty talk before Roman, but like everything else, he had a way about him. I was whatever he wanted me to be.

Roman’s other hand went to my side, traveling down to the slit that ran up my thigh. He was able to curl around my body beneath the slit, moving his hand to the curve of my ass. I inhaled sharply when his fingers toyed with the soft fabric of my panties. His hand followed the curve between my legs, moving to my clit, and though his skin was not on mine since my panties were still there, it was like his fingers were on me nonetheless.

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