Page 124 of Rome: The Ballerina

Forward.

Backward.

Forward.

“Mmmm. Shit. Rom— shit.”

Backward.

Forward.

Backward.

Forward.

In a split second, my back was against the sheets again. Saint hovered over me. His heavy eyelids sagged with desire. Wonder. Wilderness.

“Fuck you learn that, Mellow?”

I shook my head, unsure of what he was referring to.

“Good. Keep that shit between me and you.”

At the entryway of my garden, I felt a hose.

“Saint–” I swallowed, tensing at the mere thought of pain.

“Shhhhh. Relax, baby.”

I relaxed against him. Loosened my limbs and unclenched my butt cheeks.

“It won’t feel good. It won’t feel good at all, but I prom–”

Before he finished his sentence, he pushed into me. The sharp pain shortened me two breaths. I searched for oxygen. None was available.

“Urrrrrrrrrrggggggghhh–” I gasped, feeling my entire body catch fire.

“Mellow,” Saint groaned, stiffening completely.

He was regretful of his decision. Of his entry. Of his invasion.

“Fuck,” he grunted.

His chastisement was saddening. Alarming, even. He began to pull back, fully prepared to dislodge himself. I wrapped my hands around his wrist as my eyes blurred with tears.

“Focus on me,” I begged, feeling the tears run down the sides of my face, “Look at me, Saint.”

My voice was barely above a whisper when I loosened my grip on his wrists and placed my hands on his cheeks. I pulled him closer, pressing my lips against his and my eyelids together.

“Please–”

“Rom–”

“I want this,” I reminded him. “Ineedthis.”

He nodded. Hastily, he slammed his lips against mine. My tooth nipped the skin, causing my bottom lip to bleed instantly. The pain lingered, making the pain between my legs less prominent. Less consuming.

In.

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