Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"I'm in a life without a home so this recognition's not enough And I don't care about nobody else Cause I been on these streets for too long," ~ Rolling Stone, The Weeknd
*****
"Did you find it?" Roman asked when he walked into bedroom, only to freeze when he saw me on the bed.
My lips curved up into a seductive grin and I slowly sat up. Lingerie really makes your confidence shoot up, especially when you see the effect it has on your lover. I ran a tongue across my dark red lips.
"I did."
He exhaled on a laugh and moved towards the bed, slowly tugging at his tie. I crawled towards the edge and pushed myself up so I was on my knees in front of him. My eyes stayed on his as I undid his tie. I let it fall from my fingers and onto the floor and then lowered my hands to the buttons of his shirt.
"You look amazing," he whispered, his light touch gently trailing my arm.
I unbuttoned his shirt with ease and slowly pushed it open and down his shoulders. He had a nice body. It wasn't exactly likes Niccolò's—not as hard—but he wasn't fat or anything. I had a thing for muscles, and I often pictured Niccolò chest, his firm arms around me when I was with Roman. Often without realizing it.
Roman shrugged off the shirt and his hands went to the buckle of his belt.
"Slow down, baby." My voice was soothing. I leaned away and reached over to the bucket of ice, pulling out a bottle of wine. I picked up a glass and poured him some wine. "We have all night."
I got him intoxicated. Not heavily, but enough to consider him tipsy. Roman, bless him, was terrible at holding his liquor. I tipped back my own glass, the drink sliding down my throat in gulps.
There was just no way I'd find this safe on my own. I needed him to tell me. I needed to get him to tell me.
We drank a little more, in between kissing and heavy petting and eventual groping.
I knew how Roman got when he was drunk, especially when it was just me. He was chatty, touchy-feely, and ended up blacking out by the end of the night, never really remembering the events the next morning. Which meant I had to hope he'd open up and forget all about it in the morning.
It was a flawed plan, but it was all I had. It didn't take long before he'd finished off the bottle and he was grabbing for me, pulling me on top of him.
"Goddamn, I'm lucky," he murmured as he looked me over, his words slurring.
I laughed, placing my palms on his chest and staring down at him. "You're drunk."
