Page 137 of Heartfelt Pain
Roma thinks he’s sneaky when he fits his body against mine.
“I’m tired,” I sleepily say, half-heartedly tugging his hand away from my nipple.
His knee nudges my leg, our bodies slotting together. “You don’t have to open your eyes.”
I laugh, at least for a second before my teeth tear into my bottom lip when he thrusts his cock into my cunt. His chest presses to my back as he thrusts in and out of me.
It’s a lazy, sleepy coupling. We’re two old married people after all.
His hand snakes over my hip, lowering until his fingers find my clit. I rock back into him.
He shushes me and I feel his smirk against my shoulder.
“Right there, right there,” I demand, my ass slapping into his groin.
His fingers press my clit and I crumble. My release spurs him on and his movements grow faster. His fingers smear intomy arousal, his hand skimming under my shirt so he can trace my nipple.
His cock swells, his warm cum filling my insides.
We relax into the pillows. Like he suggested, I do keep my eyes closed despite early morning sunlight streaming through the window. I’ve slept in Roma’s bed for seven years now.
I won’t lie. I miss Aunt Macy’s place sometimes. It was hard, leaving it. The apartment she left me was the first piece of real estate I ever owned. The first home I created for myself.
But Roma’s place is bigger. And the commute to work is better. And though it’s only a five-minute walk, I normally wait to slip on my stilettos until I get to Fujimori’s.
Roma’s mechanic shop is in the black. He’s got steady clients and he’s made a name for himself in the criminal world. People like when no one bats an eye at a guy bringing his fifth luxury car into the shop that month and Roma knows what he’s doing.
That meant it was natural to make the top floor of the building our home.
It started slowly. I came over after work most nights. I’d leave a few things over here and there. Roma got annoyed about how I dragged my feet, but that was only because I hated leaving Aunt Macy’s apartment and not because I didn’t know Roma was my forever.
Not to be sappy, but fate placed us in Fujimori’s. I like to think it’s kismet, the night we met in that little booth.
There were ups and downs for sure. But our souls are intertwined. There’s never been anyone else for me.
He loves the monster in me. And I’m fond of the beast within him.
So after a while, I stopped just leaving my shit at his place and instead moved all of it over. I do my best to make the place a warm, cheery atmosphere with tons of good snacks. Roma keeps it clean and does most of the cooking.
Is it a fair trade? Maybe not, but I know of ways to make it up to him.
In post-coital bliss, he keeps his arm wrapped around me, his cock still inside me. Will I need to pee in a few minutes in order to avoid a UTI? Yes. But we know we only have a few more minutes of peace.
Something I’ve always loved about this place is all the good bones. I’m not a natural decorator so the crown molding, faux fireplaces, and wide airy windows that make up the place go far. But the old hardwood floors creak with the patter of footsteps.
We don’t even dignify the first few knocks with a reply. If anything we burrow deeper under our yellow duvet, pressing our cheeks into the pillows.
“Mom,” the first voice comes. This is when we know the clock is really running out. “Mom.”
More knocking. Roma pulls me to his chest, kissing my shoulder.
Whispers come from the other side of the door.
“Dad,” another voice says. It’s accompanied by knocks.
“Can we come in please?” Davis asks.
The door is locked, thank God, but it doesn’t stop our sons from trying to turn the handle.
