Page 63 of Star Crossed
Chapter Twelve
If Romeo ever got sick of fighting, Jules would gladly hire him to clean under her desk on bad days. The man had a gift for it, and Jules was so glad she’d decided to meet him despite being unnaturally tired. Work had been stressful. This week had been one of those that brought home the fact that she worked three jobs. Adam had a wife with the flu and had to take leave. Jules had been filling in on dispatch so Harvey could take over Adam’s shifts. The law office was getting busier and busier as tax refunds started rolling in, and the Cellar always kept her moving.
She needed more than a quickie with Romeo, which is what the two of them had been reduced to for the past few weeks. She knew she could stay at the Cellar until three in the morning and Wyatt would never notice. Shedidhave countless hours of law work to catch up on, but this felt more important. Connecting with Romeo was like a vitamin for her soul, and it was exactly what she needed.
Sprawled out on the desk, with her legs draped over Romeo’s shoulders, Jules put her hands above her head and gripped the wood as he ran his tongue over her wet, quivering pussy.
“Use your fingers too.” She panted, already halfway there. When Romeo did as told, pushing one thick finger inside her and curving it upward until he found her sweet spot, Jules’s back arched and she cried out, “Fuck!”
It felt so good. She writhed under the ecstasy of his mouth until her skin was dewy with sweat, but still she wanted more. She threaded her fingers through his hair, holding him to her as she rose to that amazing precipice Romeo always helped her find so easily. Almost there, she stopped fighting for the climax and hovered on the edge of oblivion because she needed all of him.
“In me,” she moaned, her breathing a tremor of bliss. “Please, Romeo.”
He completely ignored her, tormenting her with his mouth and hands instead. Sucking on her clit, pushing a second finger deep inside her throbbing body. She started shaking under the onslaught. Then he palmed one tit with his other hand, his thumb and forefinger playing with the sensitive nipple, forcing Jules to climax against her will.
Alone in the Cellar, she allowed herself to actually scream when the pleasure burst free, crashing over her with a rush of ecstasy. Romeo let her ride out the tempest, licking and sucking at her clit as the bliss pulsed through her until she was suddenly in sensory overload.
“Too much!” She wheezed, using her hold on his hair to wrench his head away from her. “Too intense. Sensitive.”
Romeo didn’t complain, just leaned up and ran his lips over the flat plane of her stomach. He bit playfully at her hip bone and palmed both of her tits with his big hands, making her moan and bow back on the desk from the aftershock his touch caused.
Then he was sucking on her nipples, obviously choosing to ignore her too sensitive complaints, and she squealed and squirmed beneath the onslaught. “Too much, too much, too much,” she chanted, trying to push him off her, but she was still weak from the bone-melting climax and he was built like a Mack truck. “You keep it up, and I’m not playing sensei and uke with you.”
Romeo released the tormented nipple and lifted his head. His eyes were alight with mischief as he grinned. “Can’t have that.”
Jules laughed and tugged at his hair again. “You really wanna do this? Spar with me?”
“I even went home and got my gi,” Romeo said, his smile wide and bright, making him look breathtakingly handsome.
Jules smirked. “You kinky bastard.”
“No, honestly, it’s deeper than that.” Romeo rubbed his thumb against her bottom lip in a sensuous swipe. “I wannafeel youon the mat. Your strength, your power, I want you to let it all loose on me. I need to really touch who you are, like on a spiritual level. Does that make sense?”
Not really, but Jules could tell it was somehow important to Romeo and said, “Fine, but you’re certifiable if you think I’m gonna just play uke and let you throw me ’round the mat. The only way I know how to fight is full force, all or nothing. If we’re doing this, I’m gonna bring it, Wellings.”
He grinned triumphantly. “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”
* * * *
Relaxed, with her hands on her knees, Jules sat on the mat. Her back straight, a smile on her face as she waited for Romeo to emerge from the men’s locker room. He insisted they change separately, which was sort of—cute.
Her hair was still wet from the shower she’d taken after she’d finished with her last classes, so she’d braided it to keep it out of her way. Like Romeo had asked, she’d dressed traditionally in her white gi, with her black belt tied around her waist. Before she’d known he was somewhat serious about this, she’d planned to go bare beneath it, but since they were actually sparring, she wore a tight white sports bra and panties beneath the comfortable material.
Before coming to the mat, she flipped on the main lights but left the rest off. It felt like the center area of the Cuthouse Cellar was under a spotlight with all the different rooms and offices pitch-black, save the one lone light streaming out from the back hallway leading to the locker rooms. That’s where Jules saw him, coming from the locker rooms in his white gi, with a red-and-white belt tied around his waist.
Her entire being responded to the sight of that belt, as if reverence for it was built into her genetic makeup. Jules had been taking classes since she was five, and she knew Romeo hadn’t started until much later. The fact that he’d earned the belt was amazing.
Jules looked up at him in awe as he walked up to her. “You outrank me.”
He stopped in front of her, big, bare feet spread apart on the mat. The lines of his handsome face were relaxed and lacking their usually intensity as he said, “Yes, I do,” without an ounce of his typical cockiness.
Jules stayed where she was, feeling suddenly like a student instead of an equal or teacher to a sparring partner, and it’d been so long since she’d been in that role. It made her feel young, and she couldn’t help but feel a bit of idol worship. The broad expanse of his chest, the peek of olive skin between the V of his gi, the sheer height and strength of Romeo’s massive body. Mix all that with his red-and-white belt, one of the highest-ranking belts in karate, and Jules swallowed hard against the rush of yearning that washed over her.
“Wyatt woulddieif he saw that,” Jules couldn’t help but whisper. “We’re bothGodan, and he’s been walking around thinking he’s the baddest fella in town for being a fifth-degree black belt. Why haven’t you worn it before now?”
Romeo took a seat on the mat inseizaposition, with his ass resting on his bare feet. He sat across from her, once again giving her the feeling of being a student as he said, “’Cause that’s not what this obi’s for. It’s not a trophy for my ego.”
In Jules’s mind that’sexactlywhat it was. A candy-cane-colored trophy that said he’d worked longer and harder than everyone else. A red-and-white, sixth-degree black belt was respect and reverence, a badge of honor Jules knew she’d have someday because she was always striving and pushing herself, but she didn’t have it yet—and Romeo did.
