Page 23 of Frozen Obsession

"Asshole," I hiss, biting the head of his cock despite the pain. The zap intensifies, but so does my defiance. I drag my teeth along his shaft, savoring the way his body tenses, the pained grunt that escapes him. The slap that follows is harsh and swift, but I grin through the sting, satisfied by the brief flicker of pain in his eyes. He jerks my head back, strands of my hair snapping from the force. His jaw clenches, his eyes darker than I’ve ever seen them.

"Fucking dirty little snake. You wanna play? We’ll play." He growls before spitting on my lips, his fingers prying my mouth open.

"Suck," he demands, his voice thick with lust. I hate myself for obeying, but I do. My tongue works around him, desperate to please, desperate for the endorphins that might dull the pain. He pushes deeper, and I gag, tears stinging my eyes, but he doesn’t stop. He never stops. And deep down, I might not want him to. This sadistic shit turns me on, and there’s no one like Roman. No man out there can match my crazy like he can. We belong together, but damn, I’ll fight it.

I can hardly breathe, saliva and snot running down my bare chest. His hands smear my spit over my tits, playing with my now wet nipples. "That’s it, baby," he says, and fuck, he turns me on. My tongue swirls around the head of his cock, our eyes locking. He groans, the sound low and guttural, sending shivers down my spine. His grip on my hair tightens, pushing my head further onto him. I gag again, hating myself, hating him, but still, my throat relaxes, allowing him to drive into it.

His cock twitches in my mouth, a clear sign he’s close. Moments later, he empties himself down my throat, and I struggle to swallow, choking as the thick heat of him overwhelms me. His cum drips from my lips when he finally pulls out, leaving me a mess. I collapse onto the bed, gasping for air, my chest heaving as I try to catch my breath.

I should hate him for this, for the way he owns me, but instead, I feel that familiar twisted satisfaction. There’s no escaping it—Roman has me, completely.

He turns away and strides into the bathroom, the sound of water rushing from the faucet filling the silence. I hear him muttering something, but his words are muffled, distant. My heartbeat slows, but the gnawing urge to get high claws at me, that familiar emptiness starting to take hold again. Before I can sink too far into it, Roman returns, droplets of water glistening on his hands.

"Bath time," he says, voice casual, as if it were a command I’d follow without question.

"No," I say, weakly turning my back to him.

He chuckles, and before I can protest again, his strong arms scoop me up, pulling me effortlessly off the bed. "Do you even know what the word 'no' means?" I ask, my voice soft, more out of habit than defiance.

Amusement flickers in his dark eyes. "I guess not," he replies smoothly, carrying me toward the bathroom.

I stop fighting, my resistance crumbling as he lowers me into the tub. The warm water immediately soothes my aching body, the tension unwinding from my muscles. I let out a soft sigh, sinking deeper into the heat, feeling the urge to escape dull slightly.

For the first time, I let myself look at him. Really look. The ink on his skin is new, black lines sharp and vivid against the tanned surface. His muscles have thickened, scars marking his arms and torso like a map of violence. He’s changed—hardened. The years apart have carved him into something even more dangerous.

Roman steps into the tub behind me, the water sloshing gently as he settles in. His arms, solid and possessive, wrap around me, pulling me back against his chest. His skin is warm, his muscles flexing slightly as he holds me, as if he’s daring the world to take me from him.

"You’re doing so good, Xena Bean," he whispers, his lips brushing against my ear. I want to tell him to fuck off, to leave me alone, but the words don’t come. I’m too tired, too weak, so I just close my eyes and let him hold me. I hate how good it feels, being in his arms, but I’m too far gone to care.

"What happened while I was gone?" he asks, and I tense in his arms, memories flashing before my eyes. I think of being locked up in that room, getting fed pills and Andy’s cock. But he’s in jail now, thanks to my mother finally walking in on him. I’m grateful she believed me, but I still don’t say anything. Fuck Roman Delgado.

"Nothing," I whisper.

"Who hurt you, little snake?" Roman asks, his fingers massaging my scalp gently,just like every other time we've taken a bath together. His touch is familiar, grounding, but his voice wavers as he speaks. "It was hell for me in there, Xena. I learned about Dad. I lost you, and then I got stabbed, and..." His voice breaks, and I feel the tremor of tension ripple through his body. He clears his throat before continuing, "I got raped. My first year in prison."

The words hang in the air, heavy and suffocating. I swallow hard, trying to let them sink in. A twisted part of me feels a twinge of satisfaction, hearing about his suffering. Maybe it was wrong, but I didn’t care. Still, alongside that cruel satisfaction came a burning rage—an urge to kill the bastards who dared hurt him. I hated that he had endured that, but in a perverse way, it was comforting to know that our pain was mutual. His hands still, the trembling of his body now unmistakable.

"I thought losing you was the worst thing that could happen to me..." His voice drops to a whisper, hoarse and raw. "But knowing someone else broke you... that kills me, little snake."

Tears well in my eyes before I can stop them, blurring my vision. I shake my head, trying to hold it all back, but the dam breaks, and the sobs escape. Curling into myself, I draw my knees to my chest, cradling the years of buried pain like a weight that’s too heavy to bear anymore.

"Andy," I whisper, my voice cracking. "He was Mom’s boyfriend after Senior died. Mom started drinking... sold her body to keep the cabin." I choke on a sob, my whole-body trembling. "Your dad loved this place... and she tried to hold onto it for him."

Roman tightens his grip on me, silently urging me to keep going, but the words feel like shards of glass in my throat. I force them out anyway.

"He locked me in a room... and while Mom was in the hospital for a month, he shot me up with dope and raped me."

I dissolve into sobs, my face buried in my legs, the memory tearing through me like a storm I can't escape. Roman holds me tighter, shaking as much as I am, but it’s his quiet presence that keeps me from falling apart completely.

Roman doesn’t say anything. He just holds me, his silence heavier than words could ever be. We sit there in the bath, the hot water lapping against our naked bodies, steam curling around us like a shroud. Time seems to stretch, neither of us daring to break the fragile stillness. I can feel his heart pounding in his chest, the rhythm echoing my own erratic heartbeat. His arms tighten around me, and he leans in, nuzzling my neck.

"I love you," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion.

After the bath, we crawl into bed, a sappy Christmas movie flickering on the screen. The cheerful music and bright colors feel jarring against the weight of what we’ve just shared. I can’t focus on it—everything feels too loud, too fake. My body thrums with restless energy, screaming for relief, for an escape. I bite my lip, knowing better than to ask, but the craving gnaws at me, relentless and raw.

"Please," I whisper, my voice trembling with need. "I need it."

Roman turns to me, his eyes narrowing, dark and dangerous. "You need me, little junkie. That’s all you need," he growls softly, his words sharp with finality.

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