Page 49 of Of Grief And Gratitude

Riona rode my face, dripping down my chin as her hair tossed wildly with every motion of her hips, breasts bouncing temptingly. I wouldn’t deviate from my goal, though. She was close; I could tell by the way she couldn’t form coherent words, how her thighs shook, and the way her pussy sucked on my tongue.

“Romeo—”

My name turned into a whimpered moan as she shattered, her orgasm making her collapse against the headboard as I lapped lazily at her sweet release.

“Please,” Riona whined as I licked her clean. “Too much.”

I finally relented, drinking my fill of her pleasure as I helped her roll off my face and onto the bed, pulling the covers down so she could lie comfortably.

“That was… amazing,” she breathed sleepily, looking up at me through half-lidded eyes.

I kissed her slowly, stroking the damp strands of hair from her sweaty face. “Just wait until it’s my cock making you scream my name.”

Riona’s lips went slack, and I braced myself on my hands, rocking back onto my knees to find her sound asleep, mouth open and purring for me. I didn’t care that she didn’t stay awake long enough to fuck me. She’d given me enough to fuel my naughty dreams for a lifetime.

I slid off the bed and dressed, leaning over Riona’s slumbering form and kissing her forehead before letting myself out of her apartment. I was tired but energized, whistling what I now considered my tune as I pressed the button on the elevator.

Smiling, I planned my next move now that I was no longer Riona’s blackmailer. If she wanted a devil, I’d show her how sinfully delicious I could be.

Chapter Fourteen

It was no use staring at my reflection in the mirror. Whatever felt different inside me wasn’t visible. Fuck Romeo and his stupidly suave personality. Whenever I told myself he was a dangerous man who couldn’t be trusted, my hormones got the better of me, and I found myself lusting after him.

The night of the gala was just another example of how I hadn’t mastered my libido in twenty-seven years on Earth. Even now, I beat myself up over how weak I’d been that night. I’d let Romeo into my apartment, let him feed me, then practically fell all over myself, taking him to my bed. Only to wake up and find him gone.

Sure, he’d eaten my pussy like a man starved, and the earth-shattering orgasm was a nice touch. I couldn’t deny that the man knew what he was doing with a woman’s body. Probably because he’d spent years gaining experience. I scoffed at how a man could fuck around and be a hero, but if I’d done the same, I’d be a used-up whore. While I didn’t hide my body count, it wasn’t something I broadcast to the world because it was nobody’s damn business what I did behind closed doors.

Or who.

Like Romeo.

Fuck.

Ben texted me yesterday to ask me out for coffee, and I immediately told him I was available to meet. Tuesday afternoon coffee probably couldn’t even be considered a date, but I’d gladly take the distraction. That’s part of why I was trying to figure out if my inner turmoil—or sexual frustration, if you wanted to call it that—showed on the outside. I needed to get Romeo out of my head. And I would.

Impulsively, I splashed cold water onto my face, letting the chill clear my mind before I ran through my simple makeup routine. Ben wasn’t the kind of guy who cared if I was perfectly done up. He seemed happy enough to spend time together casually, and I needed that after being under the microscope over the weekend.

In less than fifteen minutes, my makeup looked effortless, and I’d pulled my hair back in a French braid that draped over my right shoulder. It worked well with my white camisole and loose, wide-necked yellow sweater that exposed that same shoulder. I opted for blue jeans instead of black, so I wouldn’t look like a bumblebee, and slipped into a pair of white ballet flats before realizing I hadn’t moved my things from the fancy clutch back to my regular purse.

I dumped my cards out of the black velvet bag and shoved them into my everyday clutch, stuffing my phone in after. Sloane wasn’t around to harp on me about calling one of the O’Connor men to drive me to the coffee shop, and it was only a few blocks from the apartment. Close enough to walk and safe enough to walk alone since it was still daylight.

I grabbed my windbreaker in case the clouds in the sky dumped down rain, and was happy I had when it began to drizzle on my trek. As I approached the coffee shop, the city air smelled fresher, a welcome break from car exhaust.

Inside, Ben waited in line for coffee, and I offered him a wave when he spotted me. I didn’t waste time joining him and patting him on the back when he wrapped me in an awkward hug. I absolutely didn’t compare his lanky arms to Romeo’s bulkier frame, and I definitely didn’t note the lack of conviction in Ben’s hold compared to how Romeo would hold me tightly against his body like he couldn’t bear for there to be a spare inch between us.

“How have you been?” Ben asked, shoving his hands into his pockets and rocking. He wore his suit from the office, a nondescript grey that did nothing for his skin tone.

“Good,” I answered, trying to ignore how his brown shoes clashed with his outfit. It probably didn’t matter when you sat behind a desk most of the day. Back in New York, it would have been grounds for termination. I reminded myself that was yet another reason I was happy to be back in my hometown. “You?”

“The week is off to an easy start,” Ben explained, stepping up to the counter and ordering two black coffees without asking what I wanted.

I didn’t have anything against black coffee, but I could easily make that at home. When I went to a coffee shop and planned to sit and enjoy myself, I liked to splurge on something with flavored syrups and whipped cream. I fidgeted with my purse while we waited a couple of minutes for the barista to hand Ben two cups of coffee.

I pointed to a free table toward the back of the café. “How about there?”

“Looks good.” Ben led the way, setting the coffee on the table and pulling out a chair for me. At least somebody had taught him manners. I dropped gracefully into my spot and subtly pushed the chair back so I could breathe when Ben pushed me too close to the table.

He took the seat across from me and blew on his coffee before taking a tentative sip. I must have made a face because he shrugged and explained, “Wouldn’t want to burn my tongue.”

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