Page 35 of Heartfelt Pain
Why I’m choosing to go along with it.
Those are all concerns for another moment. Right now, I’m too preoccupied with playing.
“You haven’t been a good boy, Roma.” He bites his lowerlip, a flush spreading along his high cheekbones. His hips jerk toward my hand and I slap his cock.
He falls into the wall and he’s not the only one stunned.
I don’t know where that came from.
But instead of worrying about his pain, I step forward, pushing him back into the wall. A whimper catches in his throat and it spurs me on. I rub my palm harder against his thick erection, the organ still trapped by his pants. He jerks again, not turned off by my dose of pain. If anything it’s fueled him.
“Are you a little pain slut?” Breathless laughter floats off my lips. “Awe, Roma.”
“Ren.” His hips roll, his tone straining.
“You only come when I say,” I remind, my palm rubbing. “Be a good boy and come now.”
He follows the command, his muscles stiffening. His jeans are dark, but I watch a wet patch spread across his crotch.
Ragged breaths tear from him as he sags against the wall. I stare up at him, unmoving. Part of me wants to unbutton his jeans and rub his cum into him, marking him.
Something dark is taking over me. Something painful and nasty. Something furious and hard.
“You need to go now.”
He bends down slightly like he needs to assess the situation in his pants.
If I were nice, I’d let him clean up.
“Go out the front,” I order. Isolde knows he’s here. There’s no point in skulking around.
“Ren.” Roma tries to catch my arm.
I step back. “We’re done.”
He catches his breath, adjusting himself. “Hellcat?—”
The expression that crosses my face stops him in his tracks. Something unreadable glimmers in his eyes, but he straightens and nods. “Thank you for letting me come.”
The words unlock another part of me and that’s when I know I’m fucking screwed.
CHAPTER 8
Ren
The next morning I find Ben at Fujimori’s before me.
This is surprising because he and Abe did in fact show up at my place last night. Abe, bless his heart, burst in like he would protect me. All he found was a pile of laundry on the floor and a week’s worth of dishes in the sink. The latter part confused him as he pointed out I almost exclusively eat at Fujimori’s.
Isolde spent the night, only because I refused to leave my apartment. She saw me get into my hired car this morning before heading off.
“Hey,” I greet. Abe and his dad haven’t begun their daily arguments so the place is quiet. The jukebox waits patiently for someone to pick a song. Ben’s got a cup of black coffee and his shirt sleeves are rolled up.
Ben’s my favorite person in the world. And I know I say that about all the people I love, but it’s true.
He’s more like a brother than a first cousin. We grew up running around in the yard together. Since we’re the same age we rode the school bus together. When we finally startedto drive, we went to high school in his beat-up, dark blue Honda Civic. It broke down a lot, but Ben could always fix it.
That’s what he does. He’s patient, but not a pushover. Those two traits probably help him the most with his law career.
