TheBeckyJolene

May 19th, 2026

“Oooh yes, fuck this pussy, daddy.” 

The sound of the bed creaking and the headboard slamming repeatedly against the wall with each bounce of your body on his dick is the backdrop for your filthy sex talk. Your hands playing with your heavy breast, nipples twisted between your fingers. His own big hands can’t decide if they wanna stay on your thick hips, help keep you steady while riding, or if he wants to explore the rest of your body. Covering your hands with his own, the two of you playing with your titties together.

Your favorite though is when he drags one of them talented ass hands down the front of your slick, glowing body to play with your clit. And he knows that. You know that he knows that, hence that smug expression on his handsome ass face.

A face you can’t wait to sit on before the end of the night. Him only eating your pussy once today just isn’t enough. Not when God gifted this man with a tongue like that. 

Blessed him with all the things, really. Including the beautiful, thick nine inch dick that’s got you feeling like you’re about to be split into two. A welcomed destruction, cause damn does it feel good.

“Look at you.” He slaps your hip, smoothing his palm down your backside. You bite your bottom lip as he wiggles his fingers between your ass cheeks, index finger probing your puckered hole. “You can’t get enough of this dick.”

“Mmmm.” You’re far too fucked out, leaning over just enough for you to smack your ass up and down his cock, slapping and smacking sounds increasing in volume from you essentially twerking on his dick. “S-s-so good, d-daddy.”

“Such a fucking greedy slut,” he groans, another slap to your ass before he’s back to steering you. Helping you bounce up and down, eyes transfixed on the swinging motion of your titties. “Can’t even fucking think straight when I’m buried in you like this, can you?”

No. Not at all. Not even a little. But as smug as this handsome bastard is, there still remains just enough of your wherewithal to not grant him the privilege of confirmation. You keep your lips pressed together, hand reaching for the headboard to steady you. Your thighs are burning like crazy, and you’ve had to flex your calves at least three times to smooth out the cramp that’s been dying to stilt you ever since he propped you on his dick.

You’re close. So so so close, but you’re also not ready. Not that it makes a difference. You already know he’s got at least one more position to put you in before he finally finds his release.

For a man in his forties, it’s almost embarrassing how well he can outdo you in the bedroom. This’ll be your third orgasm since he returned a few hours ago from his meeting with Paul and Nick. 

He hasn’t come at least once. Not even when you were gagging on his dick, drool seeping out the corner of your swollen, pink lips. If you didn’t know for a fact that he was seconds away from shooting his load down your throat before he pushed you away, put you on all fours, and rammed that big dick in your wet, waiting pussy, you might have been offended. But you know better.

You know him.

“You close, ain’t you, baby?” He taunts, your closed eyes not preventing your from picturing the way them soft ass lips are either still lifted for that smug smile or a knowing smirk. Sometimes you really do hate how cocky he is. Unfortunately, unlike most men, he can back it up. “I can tell by the way she pulsing around me. Fluttering and shit.”

“Mmmm.” Once more, incoherent mumblings are the most you can offer him, the grind and drag of your soft body against his firm ass body granting your neglected clit the attention you’d been wanting. Waiting eagerly for him to address, and he knows it.

“You want me to play with that pussy, baby?” He purrs, and you swear there’s a fresh wave of your juice that gushes out your pussy, small streams seeping past the unforgiving grip your cunt has around his cock. Slippery and drenched, you’re leaking all over his chest, the combination of sweat and your conjoined juices creating an unsteady, unreliable surface. Hence your grip on the headboard and thus the way you’re relegated to grinding to get your fix. “Want daddy to eat it till you pushing me away talking about you can’t take it?”

Tale as old as time. Your husband is an eater through and through. Loves to give just as much as he loves to receive. It’s the best kind of “problem” to have as it pertains to a sex life. He never leaves you wanting more. Always satisfied, satiated, and stuffed.

Just like you are right now.

“Naw. You gotta earn that shit, slut.” His voice cuts through your fantasies, evoking a pout and whine just as he juts his chin in your direction. His eyes twinkle with mischief and devilry. “Keep riding.” 

“How early you wanna fly in to Turin?”

His question stirs you from the much deserved and desired sleep that’s been calling your name ever since you finally tapped out after he came all over your back. He more or less had to hold you up in the shared shower and carry you to the bedroom with the freshly changed sheets he made sure to put on before you both climbed back into bed.

You make a sound, nails lightly brushing across his chest as his own lazily dance up and down the small of your back. He’s scrunched up your thin, lavender gown, leaving the sheets and duvet clinging to your nude, glowing body. But it’s the norm. He’s always been touchy feely like that, and it’s never bothered you. 

You’re more or less the same.

“Doesn’t matter,” you finally answer. “The usual is fine.”

The usual being touching down via his private jet about a week before a show. It provides him time to get in match day headspace and you the time to squeeze in some exploring and swiping of his black American Express card. But more importantly, it allows adequate opportunity for you two to just spend time together. As proud as you are of him for his big win at Mania and ascension back to the top of the mountain, him being home more was something you’d gotten used to.

Life is just easier when he’s around. 

Until it’s not.

“Okay,” he says. You wait for him to follow up with something. Most likely a reminder that the boys will fly in with ya'll or even whatever tentative agenda and schedule he's been given at this time. But he remains quiet and just continues to caress your back, embracing the post coital relaxation and silence.

It’s the perfect opportunity to grant your exhausted body the recharge it desperately needs. Especially given your busy day tomorrow. Hop on the jet to fly back home in the morning. Filming, editing, and posting of the material you recorded while accompanying him to this Raw all scheduled to be done before the clock hits midnight.

It just makes sense to close your eyes and allow yourself to drift off to sleep. The smart thing, perhaps.

But no one ever said you were smart.

“You know…..” You inch closer, nestling your head against his inked chest. It’s a somewhat subconscious thing what with the way you angle your mouth close to his rib cage. Speech slightly murmured, partially obscuring the clarity and muffling the volume. “Naomi brought over David the other day.” For your own sanity and perhaps to allot you some faux sense of security, you choose to ignore the way his body tenses under yours. “He’s so adorable. Looks more and more like—“

“Y/N.” A single word, and the roles are precipitously reversed. You’re the one growing quiet, and he’s the one who fills that silence. “Don’t.”

You swallow, peering up at him. “Don’t what?”

His jaw ticks, the glow of the moon peering through the opposite window highlighting the shadows of his defined face. His grays splattered throughout a sea of otherwise onyx more or less the same in the dim lighting. “Don’t start this shit again.”

“How am I starting something?” You challenge. A part of you screaming to let it go, to let it be as it is, but another part of you, the part that you’ve never been able to truly silence, is begging to be unleashed. The protector protecting from dangers real and imagined “I’m literally just talking to you.”

Unfortunately for you, your husband has never been one to back down. To not accept and meet a challenge with the same energy brought you the table. He's a mirror of yourself in many ways. “No, you’re trying to have that conversation again, and I’m not in the mood to argue with you.”

“Argue over what?” You suck your teeth, sitting up and looking down at him. Frustration ticks when he diverts his gaze and runs his hand over his face. “Roman.”

His answer is to make the same sound as he sits up and turns away. You also sit all the way up, thin sleeve of your gown drooping over your exposed shoulder. You study the defined line of his back, starting to visually trace the sharp outlines of the dark ink. “How many times do gotta do this shit, Y/N?” He looks over his shoulder but not directly at you, and for some reason, that almost hurts more than the reaction, deep down, you knew you were going to get. “Same song and dance every fucking time.” Something tightens in your stomach when he does finally meet your eyes, however, his own reflect nothing but irritation and exasperation. “I said no, and that’s final.”

Once more, an opening is created. An escape and jump off a mountain that only leads to an increasingly difficult uphill battle. The wise choice, the best choice, is to retreat. Leave it be.

If only your heart wasn't so much louder than your head.

Eyes narrowed, the timbre of your voice carries with it ammunition ready and waiting to be unleashed. “Yeah, you did say no, but not before you said 'yes,' and then ‘no’ before that and then another ‘yes' sprinkled somewhere in between.” You throw your hands up, the frustration that swims between the two of you about what and what on both ends. “You can’t make up your mind.”

It’s a fact he can try to deny all he wants, but it doesn’t make it any less true. From the moment you two met two years ago, at least, the parts that you can remember, it’s been nothing but back and forth. One minute he’s blowing your back out, hands locked behind you, whispering nasty words and broken promises. 

“You gon’ give me a baby, princess? Hmm. A little girl for me to spoil just like I spoil her mama.”

The next, it’s nothing but a slightly different scene than the one transpiring now. Him pacing across the bedroom, hand on his hips, upper cheeks flushed from vexation with a topic that’s been revisited, reviewed, and recycled ten times over now. 

“I don’t know why you keep bringing this shit up, Y/N. We’re not having any fucking kids together. Ever.”

He swings from one end to the pendulum to the other. Getting your hopes up only to dash em’ back down with all of the cruelty that, one could argue, got him to where he is today, career wise.

It’s also, however, what cost him everything, too. 

“Well, my mind is made up now, and the answer is the same it’s been the last three goddamn times you brought this shit up.” He pierces your internal monologue with another reiteration of what makes your shoulders drop and scowl shift into a frown. “No.”

It could be left at that, and maybe it should be, but once the flood gates are opened, that’s it. 

There’s no turning back.

You move to sit on your knees, his expression, just like his current stance, unchanged and undeterred.

“Do you know how unfair you’re being?” You shake your head, hating how a newfound emotion is trying to creep its way into your voice. This isn’t the time for that. “All this back and forth. It’s mind games. You’re playing mind games with me, Roman, and it’s not fair.”

It’s not fair how he’ll get your hopes up only to crush them with the stomp of his metaphorical boot, throwing out excuse after excuse, reason after reason. 

“We need to work on us before we even think about that, Y/N.”

“Let’s see what this year looks like for me work wise, and then we can revisit it.”

“I just want you to focus on you first. Before anything else.”

Rejection cloaked as kindness. It’s like for every step you take in the right direction, he keeps moving the goalpost. And maybe if he would stick with a stance, whatever that might be, it would be easier for you to “let it go.” 

At least, that’s what you like to believe. 

“I’m not playing any games with you, Y/N,” he sighs, mirroring your actions by also shaking his head. “You just refuse to accept the truth and come to terms with reality.” Words that sting, but the impact is slightly lessened by the visible decrease of frustration in his deep voice. Forbearance making a surprising appearance. “And the reality is that I don’t want any more kids. I'm about to be 41. My boys are grown. I’ve raised them. I’m not trying to start over again. I’m too old for that shit.”

There’s so much for you to dissect in that conglomerate of sentences. He’s not wrong about a couple things. Josiah and Jeremiah are grown. 21 going on 22, in their senior year of college, each with aspirations—and likelihood—to go pro in their respective sports. They’re fine young men, and Roman and his ex-wife, Julia, should be proud. You know they are. It’s why, despite them still having a rocky relationship since their divorce almost four years back, when it comes to their twins, they always set aside personal feelings and do what needs to be done for their kids.

Roman is a good father. A great one. And if he managed to do that as a kid having a kid, still maintaining a close bond with his sons even now, constant communication between the three of them on the daily, you have no doubt it’d be the same for your child.

And therein is where his words, fact with opinion, start to pierce. At, basically, 41, you can partially understand why he’s not exactly thrilled about the idea of having another child. But not even a month ago he was asking you how you’d feel if it was a boy instead of a girl. 

It being the baby he’s now saying he doesn’t want. 

Again, the fucking back and forth. 

Yet there’s one word in all of his soliloquy that you latched onto.

My

“Exactly. You’ve already had them, but I haven’t.” You point to yourself, feeling that damn emotion continuing to expand, making its way to the surface. Refusing to be denied any longer. “I’m 25, Roman. I'll be 26 later this year. It’s normal for me to want children at this point in my life. It’s the perfect time for me to have kids.”

Your own kids. Despite only being a few years older than his sons, you hold a close relationship with them. As close as a step-mother can get. They see you more as a peer than anything, and after making amends with the objectively strange ass way you and Roman got together, they allowed the walls to collapse and reservations to be set aside. But again, the dynamic with them is more friends than anything. They aren’t kids, they don’t feel like kids, and they’ll never be your kids.

Hence why you want your own child.

A child with Roman. 

But your emotions making an appearance through the watering of your eyes and cracking of your voice seem to do little to faze the man before you. The only indication of disturbance being whatever flashes in his warm eyes before his quiet, simple response. “Then you should have thought about that when you agreed to stay married to me.”

His words circulate throughout your head even after he leaves. Walks out of the room, most likely decompressing in the second bedroom of the hotel suite. Allowing both him and yourself time to process before the argument could reach a level that resulted in him leaving and you spiraling. 

It wouldn’t be the first time.

The last two years of your life have been such a whirlwind. Something most wouldn’t believe if you told them because the story of you and Roman sounds like something out of a Reddit thread or TikTok story time. The type where you watch with a degree of skepticism because some of the shit just sounds too outlandish. And your meeting of your now husband is nothing short of outlandish.

You met the night after WrestleMania 40. Vegas. The Chandelier.

An hour and several drinks after said meeting, you two were hitting the slot machines and wandering around the casino, talking, sharing, and connecting without a care in the world.

Two hours and even more drinks later, he had you bent over the balcony of his suite, screaming and calling on every deity known to man. 

And then some. 

12 hours later, you woke up in bed, naked, his soft snores in your ear, and a rock on your left hand.

You were married. 

Needless to say, the fallout from that was….something.

Wild as hell, too, but also….it tracked.

He was depressed from not only the loss of his title, the end of his legendary 1,316 title reign, but also everything that came with it. Old emotions and never fully healed wounds poked and probed with and by painful reminders of betrayal.

And you were three days deep into a manic episode, one that would only end a week and a half later, when the bulk of the damage was already done.

Two storms on a collision course for disaster.

Neither really willing and wanting to do anything to find a life vest, a raft, a way to evacuate. 

He was too caught up in his head to seek out the appropriate parties about an annulment, and you, again, being manic, were too deep into your episode to see how absolutely insane all of it was. You were just excited to be married, to a rich ass, fine ass, older ass man who you later learned to be Roman fucking Reigns.

Separation wasn’t anywhere on your agenda. No, according to the journaling you did and have done for a number of years now when in a manic or depressive state, you were already planning the names of your kids. From the very beginning, you knew you wanted kids with him. 

It’s that reminder, however, that triggers the thought for you. The one that remains even an hour later when he returns to the room to find you in bed, in a fetal position near the edge, blankets pulled up to your chin. 

Silent tears streaming down your face. 

It’s not until the bed groans and his coarse fingertips brush against your cheeks that you break the silence you’d rested in since his departure.

“I haven’t had an episode in almost a year,” you whisper, throat dry and stinging. A similar sensation felt near the corner of your eyes. Telltales of the tears being in a consistent, heavy flow for the past hour. You swallow, licking your suddenly chapped lips and manage to shift your eyes to look up at him. “I’m consistent with my meds. I haven’t missed a day in God knows how long.”

His lips press together, his fingers moving to stroke the top of your head. “Y/N….”

“I’ve done so well in therapy that I only have to go once a month now,” you continue, finding the strength to sit up. Roman angles his body so that he’s fully facing you as you cross your legs under the thin covers. “I—I’m better now.” 

Perhaps better than you’ve been in a very very long time. Because even before your diagnosis of Bipolar 1 at the age of eighteen, your life was always a chaotic storm. Because before it was you, it was your mom. Wild, erratic behavior that, as a kid, you didn’t understand. Your mom was different. Moody. Unique, as your dad once described her. She could be hot one minute, and cold the next. But she was your mom, and you loved her to pieces. So did your dad. Hence the way he stood by and supported her up until her last day on this earth. 

An intentional last day.

Your mom died by suicide a week after your thirteenth birthday. 

That was when your own symptoms started to manifest. You’d later find out that your doctor, and even your dad, strongly suspected bipolar. That they knew that was what you had by your 17th birthday. They just had to wait until you were 18 to formally diagnose you. 

Before and after, it’s been up and down. A few hospital stays sprinkled in over the years. Discussions, at one point, taking place between your dad and stepmom, Sherry, regarding a conservatorship. Most of your behavior, however, was simply due to being treatment resistant. You’d go to therapy for a little while and then disappear. Take your meds as prescribed for a few weeks before stopping cold turkey.

It wasn’t your diagnosis that was ruining your life. It was the person in the mirror. 

That behavior continued even after meeting and marrying Roman. The first stretch of your marriage was, in no uncertain terms, a hot fucking mess. 

Arguments. Mudslinging back and forth. Cheating. Threats. On both sides. But for every bad thing in the relationship, something good always followed. A heartfelt conversation. A kind gesture. A gentle touch. A vow and oath of love and commitment. Vehement defending of one another, whether it be him defending you to his family, especially his ex-wife. Or you defending him to your parents who thought you’d experienced some sort of psychotic break by marrying a man over ten years your senior. It didn’t matter though. For as toxic as the shit was, it was equally as healing.

Felt that way, at least.

Roman especially began to thaw out and extend a newfound sense of understanding and patience when you finally disclosed your diagnosis. He was confused, didn’t understand everything but said he would try— on one condition.

That you’d get help.

Real help.

Because he’d grown exhausted at having his team work overtime to ensure stories detailing and depicting your capricious behavior during manic episodes remain sealed. Snapped photos that disappeared. Social media posts scrubbed. Both for the sake of his image and yours. A social media influencer with over 1 million followers—5 million now—you were partially known for your quirky behavior that sometimes helped conceal the episodes. But it was only a matter of time before the comments of entertainment turned into expressions of concern.

He protected you from that. 

He’s protected you from a lot. 

Including yourself.

Ensured that he assembled the best treatment team—therapist, psychiatrist, and primary— that his pockets could afford. And you’d come to find out that his pockets ran deep. 

So much so that your turbulent early to mid twenties are so far behind in your rearview mirror that the view is almost entirely distorted. 

The first six months of your marriage was a hot dysfunctional mess. The second six months carried healing and repairing. Now in the second year, you feel as if you’re in the best place mentally that you’ve ever been in your entire life. And your marriage isn’t too far behind that. You and Roman, in your opinion, are in such a good, healthy space now.

But maybe….maybe he doesn’t feel the same. 

“I can do this, Roman.” You reach for his forearm, closing your eyes when he palms your face. His touch has always been so calming. “I can be a mother.”

You know you can. You just….you need the chance to show him. 

“Y/N…” he murmurs. You open your mouth to see him frowning, the lines in his forehead more pronounced as his thick brows furrow together. “I know how bad you want this. I do, but—”

Your chest tightens for the umpteenth time that night. “But?”

He sighs, thumb brushing over your cheek. “I don’t know if you’ve thought about how all of this is actually going to work.”

For some reason, despite the gentle undertone in his voice, his words do little to soothe you. If anything, they’re only spiking your anxiety and deepening your grief. “What do you mean?”

His loud sigh precedes what you already have a nagging suspicion isn’t going to help an already contentious situation. “Having a kid….it’s not easy.”

“I know that, Roman.” 

You place your hand over his as he continues to palm your face. “You’ve made such good progress over the past two years—”

“But?” You press once more. He’s dancing around the subject, and it’s doing nothing to help your trepidation and everything to worsen it. 

His jaw shifts. The three second pause before he answers feels like three fucking hours. “Would you still be able to take your meds while pregnant?” 

You swallow. It’s an understandable question, one that, for all the contemplating and dreaming you’ve done regarding pregnancy, you hadn’t considered. It seems like most medications carry with them the generic, default warning regarding risks for pregnant women. Granted, you’re certainly not the first woman with a mental health disorder that requires medication to keep your symptoms managed who wants to become a mother. Wants to conceive. So surely there must be some sort of remedy. 

“I—I don’t know,” you answer, honestly. “But I’m sure I can just take something different while—”

He shakes his head. “After how long it took for them to find a regimen that works for you?” Another valid question that makes you inwardly wince. “And didn’t you tell me Bipolar is genetic? Or hereditary or something?”

As you begin to pick at the sheet covering your body, his latest inquiry makes your eyes lift to his. Where….where is he going with this? 

You grow quiet. “Yes.” 

Roman licks his lips, the pauses between his words indicative of him working hard to carefully articulate his thoughts. “Your mom had it. You have it….what happens if our kid has it too?” 

And there it is.

You immediately jerk away from him, forcing his hand to drop. Once soothing, his touch suddenly feels like a thousand needles prickling into your skin.

Just like his question has pricked into your heart.

A stabbing, more of a fitting comparison, with the largest, metaphorical kitchen knife that he could locate. 

“Are you….” You shake your head, still trying to mull over what he just asked you. “Are you saying that I shouldn’t have a kid because he or she might also have Bipolar?” His eyes shut, and you yank your hand back when he attempts to reach for you. “Like it’s a fucking death sentence?” 

“Y/N—”

But you’re not trying or wanting to hear it. You kick the blankets away, also kicking him in the process, and crawl across the mattress. Your feet slam into the ground as you start to march out of the room, Roman right behind you.

“Baby, that’s not what I’m saying—”

“Well, it sure fucking sounds like it,” you snap, turning around simply to glare at him before continuing to walk with no specific direction in mind. You just need distance. Distance he refuses to grant. As soon as your feet shift from carpet to the cool wooden floor and you harshly flip the switch to light up the kitchen, you turn to him once more. “I didn’t ask to be born with this, Roman. Okay? It’s not something I fucking had control over.”

He’s standing near the entrance, allowing you to move over to the refrigerator as you open it with, again, no clear goal in mind. “I understand that, Y/N.” 

“Do you?” You challenge, slamming the door shut before once more closing that distance you want but can’t seem to enforce. “Tell me something. How would you feel if someone told you that you shouldn’t have kids because of your CML?”

It’s a low blow. You know it. Can see it in the way he blinks, lips slightly parting before his jaw tightens. 

“That’s different,” he says, lowly. 

You cross your arms. “Is it?” 

“Yes.” His gaze darkens, voice tightening. “Because CML isn’t hereditary, and if it was, I would fucking agree with them because to bring a child into this world knowing they have an increased chance of developing cancer is fucking cruel and selfish.” 

Once more, you can’t deny that he makes a valid point. But you also can’t deny the way that point fucking hurts. The pang and throb in your chest increasing by the second.

“And that’s what you think of me, isn’t it?” You whisper. “That—that I’m being selfish and that I’m—that I’m cruel—”

“No.” His heavy footsteps follow the way he pulls you into his arms, holding you close and kissing the top of your head. “That’s not what I think at all. What you have and what I have are two completely different things. I was just trying….” He trails off, and you find yourself clutching the sides of his sweats and closing your eyes. “Fuck, you know I’m not good with this shit.” 

And he isn’t, but it’s never stopped him from trying with you, and that’s more you can say for your ex’s. For most men perhaps. 

But Roman isn’t most men.

Not in the slightest.

He cups your face with both hands, words and expression the softest you’ve seen all night. “Look, it’s late. Why don’t we talk about this tomorrow mornin?” He then suggests, and it feels genuine vs an attempt to push off the inevitable. “Or when we get back home?”

Enough words have been exchanged for this evening, and you’ve done enough therapy over the years and gained enough introspection to recognize that trying to continue this conversation when your emotions are all over the place won’t do anybody any good. Roman is a calm, but he can also be the storm, too. 

You don’t wanna test it.

Nodding against his chest, he cradles the back of your head, kissing your scalp with a murmured, “I love you.”

You echo the sentiment, remaining quiet as he carries you into the bedroom and gently places you on the bed before he climbs in, pulling you close. But while he eventually drifts off to sleep, hand still on your back from when he was rubbing small, soothing circles, you lay on his chest, mind a million and one places.

Perhaps it’s your inner desire that’s fueling it, but deep down, you truly do believe that Roman wants children with you. Even if just one. The same way his eyes light up with something akin to excitement and pride when he’s talking about or interacting with the boys is the same light you see when he makes comments about your future children. 

That has to mean something.

As he more or less indicated tonight, his uncertainty regarding your child most likely inheriting Bipolar from you is what has him concerned. It’s one of perhaps other smaller, similar concerns. The barrier to happiness he can't seem to break through.

But.

But in the event that you’re wrong, that he truly doesn’t want anymore kids. That he won’t have anymore kids….what does that mean for you?

he cups your chin, coaxing you to speak, but all that comes out are broken little whines. each slow, deep stroke leaves your eyes rolling back, your sweet body struggling to keep up with the way he moves inside of you.

he wanted you right there with him, feeling every inch instead of getting lost in it. he watched the uncertainty in your pretty eyes slowly turn into arousal as his pelvic bone graze against your clit, his hips rolling forward with steady, deliberate pressure. “hmm… wait, it feels so good. it’s…” you pant, your words breaking apart every time he bottoms out. he looks into your eyes, his pace never faltering as he shoved his fingers in and out of your mouth, muffling your pleas.

his gaze never leaves yours. it’s almost unnerving how calm he looks, especially when he’s literally fucking you stupid.

his praises were so effortless it almost sounded genuine as he used his fingers that were in your mouth to stimulate your clit. “mhmmm, i know baby,” he breathed, almost like he was answering both of you. “you’re doing so good.”

your hand lifts on instinct, fingertips weakly wrapping around his arm, you don’t even have the strength to push.

“move your hand baby…..you're okay.”

you let it fall back beside your head with a quiet whimper, your fingers curling into the sheets instead.

“you’re such a good girl.” he watches your face for the smallest reaction. “you like when i call you that?”

“mhm,” you answered quietly, your chest rose unevenly.

“do you believe that you’re a good girl?”

you nodded.

“then tell me.” he drawled, each word punctuated by the slow roll of his hips, never letting your attention drift.

“oh my gosh…” your voice caught on a shaky breath before you moaned out, “i’m a good girl, roman…” your legs lifted almost instinctively, crossing behind his back.

truthfully, you’ve never really fantasized abt this, abt him doing this to your body, but there’s something about having him inside you. you don’t think it’ll be too bad if he decided to breed you.

“what’s in that pretty head, angel?” he asks condescendingly, studying your face. “thinking of carrying my baby?”

you part your lips to answer, but he grabs your jaw in a firm grip, lips pressed together before a thin string of saliva falls onto your tongue. the sight alone has him cursing under his breath.

“mommy,” roman chuckles though the word leaving him breathless. “such a nice ring to it, huh?”

a whiny sound slips from your throat, “ro…” his hands steady your waist, keeping you perfectly still while he fucks you. every touch leaves your body feeling less like your own, your legs trembling hard enough that they’re slowly losing their grip.

“you said you wanted this," he growled lowly, “you told me you were a good girl… that you’d do anything to make me happy.”

you let out another helpless whine in protest, “please, i’m going-” you started as that familiar warmth begins to build low in your stomach.

“not yet, baby,” his fingertips colliding harshly with your clit, “daddy’s still fucking a baby in you.”

the intensity was unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. you were used to the slow kisses, whispered reassurances, the carefulness that always came with a condom. but now, there’s that yearning to be bred.

so when the moment finally comes, there isn’t a single word that could describe the rush that crashes over you. it hits all at once, leaving your body trembling as you cling to him. your eyes squeeze shut as warmth floods through you, the feeling so overwhelming as you gasp, “i feel it!”

“that’s so good, baby,” he smirked, pulling out and inspecting your hole for himself. he took his time, admiring the sight before he absentmindedly pressed his fingers inside of you. a quiet hum left him at the soft, wet squelch… you caught yourself watching him as he watched his fingers fuck his cum back inside of you.

Two Problems, One Bed

You were in New Orleans, nearly on the spookiest night of the year.

The night before Halloween.

It was pouring rain.

And you were about to have to get out of your rental and make a mad dash for the hotel you were staying at.

Things were not looking up.

"Oh, well, might as well suck it up and get inside," you thought out loud as you opened the driver's side door. Then you were running around to the back of your SUV to get your luggage out. Once you had the rolling suitcase securely on the ground you began running for the entrance to the hotel. But it was too late. You were already soaked.

Once inside, you hurried through the lobby to the front desk to check in.

"Hi, I have a reservation."

"Name please, Miss."

"Y/L/N."

The short, blond clerk typed on his computer for a moment. "I'm sorry ma'am, but there is no record of your reservation."

"What? That's ridiculous. I made the reservation days ago!"

"I'm not sure what to say ma'am. There is no record of a reservation for Y/L/N."

"Well, this is not my fault," you proclaim. "Don't you offer discounts or something when this happens?"

"We would ma'am but we are all booked up. I can offer you a discount for your next stay, but as of right now we have no rooms available."

"Unbelievable. So what am I supposed to do? I've had a long day and would very much like to be asleep right now."

"Well, you could doze in one of the lobby chairs till a room becomes available…"

"What about other hotels nearby?"

"Well, ma'am you probably wouldn't have much luck with that because New Orleans' hotels are very busy this time of year. We have a high rate of tourists. So the hotels are all most likely booked."

"I can't believe this," you groaned under your breath. How were you supposed to get any sleep? If you dozed off-like the clerk suggested-in one of the lobby chairs, you could get your purse or luggage stolen!

You heard the impatient sighs of the patrons behind you in line and reluctantly stepped out of line to head back to the lobby till you could think of something to do.

Tiredly, you sat down in one of the chairs and pulled your suitcase as close to the chair as you could. You instantly began nodding off.

"Y/N?"

You jolted awake at the sound of your name from a familiar deep voice. A voice you were head over heels in love with. Or rather the man who owned the voice.

"Easy, it's just me."

You looked up to see Damian Priest gazing down at you. "Oh… Hi Damian." You said, slightly embarrassed at your predicament.

"What are you doing sleeping in a chair?" He asked, sitting down beside you, pulling his luggage up next to yours.

"Ugh, they lost my reservation and the rooms are all booked up. Not to mention the clerk told me that the other hotels are most likely booked up too. So I have to sleep here," you explained, fighting off a yawn. "That or get a head start on my drive to Houston. But then I'd get no sleep at all."

"Nonsense," Damian said immediately. "You're not driving in this weather or the sleepless state you're in. Come stay in my room. I'll take the couch."

"I couldn't expect you to do that," you exclaimed in shock. "Hotel sofas are so uncomfortable, Damian."

"We'll argue about it in a bit," Damian joked. "Come with me, cariña (sweetheart). You're not sleeping out here. The clerk should be reprimanded for even suggesting it."

Almost hesitantly, you stood to your feet and followed Damian to the front desk. He quickly gave over his name and got a key to his room.

"Will the… uh...lady, be needing a key to the room as well?"

"Wait just a minute," you started. The implications the clerk was making were unacceptable and highly inappropriate.

"I got this, Mami," Damian interrupted you, placing his hand on your shoulder. He turned a glare on the clerk then. "The lady is staying in my room because you screwed up and lost her reservation. And then you proceeded to tell her to sleep in the lobby where she could have been mugged or anything in her sleep. Don't ever let me hear you make insinuations about her again or you will be sorry. Do you understand me?"

"Y-yes, sir. I apologize, sir."

"Apologize. To. Her."

"My apologies, Miss," the clerk said softly, avoiding your gaze.

"Thank you," you replied curtly, and followed Damian as he led the way to the elevator.

Within minutes, you were on Damian's floor and letting him lead you to his door.

"Here we are," he announced, sliding his key through the scanner. "You ready to get some rest?"

You nodded, "More than ready," you chuckled, stepping through the door with him. "Thank you so much for letting me do this, Damian. I can't tell you how much I appreciate it."

"No problem, cariña."

You both looked over the room and immediately noticed that the sofa was not a sofa.

But a loveseat.

"Oh wow…"

"That's gonna be a tight fit," Damian quipped.

"There's no way you can sleep on that thing," you insisted. Not at six-foot-seven, anyway. "Really, I wouldn't be able to sleep knowing that you were even attempting to sleep on it."

"Well, what do you suggest then, mami?"

Your heart fluttered at the Spanish names he used on you and you had to struggle to concentrate on your words. "We're both adults. So, why not share the bed," you suggested shyly.

Damian froze.

You instantly took it as a bad sign.

"I'm sorry," you said immediately. "I didn't mean to say something that made you uncomfortable."

"No, no," Damian said, holding his hands up in a defensive gesture. "I'm not uncomfortable, really."

"Oh, gosh… you have a girlfriend don't you? I am so sorry."

"No, no girlfriend."

"Okay… Do you want me to leave then?"

"No!" He nearly shouted. Then he looked as if he felt badly. "No, I don't want you to leave," he said in a softer tone. "Look, why don't you go into the bathroom and dry off, get warm. We can go to bed after?"

You nodded, feeling a little hurt. "S-sure."

You grabbed your pajamas from your suitcase and headed into the bathroom then and shut the door a little harder than you intended to.

Why did he invite me here if he didn't really want me to take him up on his offer?

You sighed and began drying your hair with the hotel room's blow dryer.

}i{}i{}i{}i{}i{

"Way to blow it, estúpido," Damian whispered to himself.

He heard the way the bathroom door practically slammed shut.

She's angry now. Just great!

The truth was, he wasn't uncomfortable with the idea of sharing the bed with Y/N. He was thrilled.

But nervous.

He'd been in love with her for the longest time. So the idea of sharing a bed with her was both thrilling, yet a little intimidating.

About ten minutes later, Y/N emerged from the bathroom with dry hair and pajamas on.

}i{}i{}i{}i{}i{

"Bathroom's yours," you announced as you stepped out of the small room.

A flash of lightning had you cringing. And in the next instant, your fear was justified as a crack of thunder reverberated through the hotel, then the lights flickered. You proceeded to jump out of your skin with a small yelp.

"You okay there?"

Damian's deep voice seemed to center you as your heart rate slowly returned to normal. You nodded, still shaking slightly. "Yeah, I'm astraphobic, is all-ya know, the fear of thunder and lightning?"

Damien's eyes instantly went warm and caring. "I'm sorry, will you be able to sleep?"

"Maybe," you replied. "The fear is deep-seated because I witnessed a man get struck by lightning when I was a child. It wasn't pretty."

"I'm so sorry," Damian said again. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Try to be patient with me?" you asked timidly. "I tend to jump a lot, and sometimes I scream. You may not sleep too well with me in the room. Why don't I go back to the lobby-"

"Missing a night's sleep isn't going to hurt me that badly," Damien interrupted you.

"I could sleep on the loveseat. That may help you a bit."

He looked mesmerized that you were trying to help him out.

"We either share the bed, or I sleep on the loveseat, cariña. That's the only deal on the table."

You nodded, "Okay, we'll share the bed. I couldn't bear for you to try sleeping on that thing."

With that, you climbed into said bed, as Damian went into the bathroom. Another flash of lightning and clap of thunder had you shivering even beneath the bed clothes. The storm continued outside and you were a fearful mess by the time Damian emerged from the bathroom. He was wearing a pair of gray sweatpants and a black tank top for bed. His black hair tumbled down around his broad shoulders.

Even though the storm had you scared out of your mind, the sight of Damian calmed you a little.

He must've seen the fear etched on your face because he rushed into the bed and touched your shoulder. "Hey, it's gonna be okay, bebé. Try not to worry."

You nodded, comforted by his touch. You both lay back against the pillows and you tried to get sleepy but it was so difficult with all the lightning and thunder plus the unnerving sound of rain literally pouring outside.

"Try taking some deep breaths, Y/N. It'll be okay." Damian said. He seemed almost hesitant when he took your hand and gave it a light squeeze. "You're safe, okay?"

"You don't know that."

You hated the fear in your voice. You were always so confident and brave in the ring, you couldn't stand for someone to see you so vulnerable.

"But I do. I won't let anything happen to you-no mientras estés conmigo."

"So you have the power to control the lightning and thunder?" You were surprised by the teasing note in your tone.

"I'm the Archer of Infamy, cariña. Nobody messes with me," he joked in return.

You giggled softly and forced yourself to relax against the pillow completely. Before long, despite the storm outside, your eyes grew heavy.

"Are you ready for me to turn out the lamp?"

Damian's deep voice gently eased you away from sleep for a moment. You nodded. And turned onto your side, facing him, as he turned out the light.

"G'night, Damian."

"Goodnight, cariña."

"What's that mean?"

"Cariña?"

"Yeah."

"It means, sweetheart."

You smiled in the dark as your heart did a hard thump in your chest. Being called sweetheart by Damian Priest was pretty okay in your book.

Your eyes grew heavy again and then before you knew it you were asleep.

}i{}i{}i{}i{}i{

BOOM!

You came awake instantly, screaming as you shot straight up in the bed.

"Hey, hey, it's okay."

Damian raised up beside you and pulled you into his arms. "Don't be scared."

"I'm… I'm sorry," you stammered out, latching onto him. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"Shh, shh, mami," he whispered, rocking you. His fingers played in your hair. "No hay nada que temer-there's nothing to be afraid of."

"I know it's silly to be so scared of a storm, but I-"

"No, it's not silly at all," Damian soothed his hand over your hair and hugged you closer. "You were a child and saw a terrifying thing. Of course you're scared."

He gently eased you back onto your pillow but kept you in his arms. "Te mantendré segura (I'll keep you safe). Sleep now, cariña."

"I can't just yet. Will you talk to me till I fall asleep? I love your voice." You flushed in the darkness. You always had a tendency to blurt out your thoughts when you were sleepy. Especially if they were thoughts you'd rather keep to yourself.

His chuckle rumbled in his chest. "Sure. What should I talk about?"

"Why did you seem uncomfortable when I brought up sharing the bed?"

He fidgeted in the dark, seemingly battling with himself over whether to admit the truth to you.

"The honest truth?"

"Yes, please."

"I'vebeeninlovewithyouforalongtimeandIwasnervousaboutsharingthebedwithyou."

He let out a breath after that as if he'd been holding it in for years and was relieved to let it out.

"Wait, what?"

"You heard me."

"You're in love with me?"

"Yes."

Smiling, you reached up, felt for his face and could feel beneath your fingertips that he was frowning in the darkness.

"Turn on the light."

"I'd rather not."

"Please?"

A moment later, the light was on and Damian looked almost shy as he turned back to face you. His dark eyes were even darker and he looked like he'd wished he'd just kept his mouth shut.

"Why are you nervous? I've been crazy about you for a long time as well. How did we not realize this?"

"Beats me."

Damian seemed relieved then, as if a weight had been lifted from his chest. His smile stretched across his handsome face and could have lit the room on its own.

Smiling in return, you urged his face down to yours and then his mouth was lightly covering yours. His lips placed barely there kisses to yours till you let out a soft mewling protest. Then he let go and kissed you with everything he was feeling. Which was a lot.

"Have mercy," you said between his heated kisses. "You're an amazing kisser."

"It's because of you, mami." He whispered, trailing his lips down to your neck, nuzzling the soft skin with his nose. "Todo por ti."

His mouth returned to yours as he simultaneously turned out the light once more.

"I love you," you said softly.

"And I love you, cariña," he returned, pulling you closer to his chest. "Te amo mucho."

You settled within his embrace, and let a peaceful sleep take you over.

somewhere only we know

mirror

lessons in love

my all — part three

↳ READ MY DISCLAIMER.

↳ be kind. non-negotiable.

↳ drama free. i don't tolerate or allow any mess on this page.

↳ be respectful. it's a two-way street.

↳ no minors. i block empty blogs and/or blogs with no age in the bio.

↳ no racists, homophobes, transphobes, sexists, xenophobes, etc.

never be the same

runnin' in circles

nature vs nurture

say something

forever, for always, mine

the talk

acknowledge me

la isla bonita

let's get it on

except, because: i do not love you

late nights

mirror

somewhere only we know

it kills me

how will i know

The Proposition

Part 3:

You came to.

Groggily.

Only to face blackness.

You were in the pitch dark and had no way to see where you actually were. 

Pausing a moment, you took stock of where you were lying. You heard gravel crunching underneath you. The floor you were lying on was scratchy. Not as soft as carpet. You were evidently in the trunk of a car. You quickly felt around for the trunk release latch. 

“It has to be here,” You told yourself, frantically searching for it. Unless…

Unless you were in an older model car. You weren’t sure when cars started being made with the trunk release latches for purposes such as this, but it was in the 2000’s sometime, you were sure.

You kept searching, too desperate to give up. Your hands fell on a piece of cable and a plastic handle–you’d found it!

Frantically, you gave it a yank, but nothing happened. You tried again, and still the trunk lid would not pop open.

Brad had damaged the latch, or disabled it somehow. Of course, he had thought to do that.

You tried kicking out a taillight, but all you managed to do was stub your toes really hard.

You fought back a sob and tried not to panic. To no avail. But you kept it together somehow. You had to or you’d never get out of this mess. 

You knew Amy would somehow get free and get help, but you didn’t know how long that would take, and the police would have no idea where you were. You didn't even know where you were, or where you were being taken. 

If only I had my purse, you thought. My pepper spray was in it. You could be ready as Brad opened the trunk and spray him right in the face. But that was impossible now. He clearly knew what he was doing. How long had he had this plan?

The car came to a sudden stop, and your breath hitched in your throat, and then came in brief snatches. Should you feign being unconscious still? Should you try to punch him in the face when he wasn’t expecting it?

With a new-found desperation you felt around the floor of the trunk for a weapon. Anything hard that would serve as a club or something. But no such luck. Brad had cleaned the trunk out, apparently.

There was the sound of a key grinding into a keyhole and then the trunk was opened. You had no time to do anything as Brad reached down toward you and grabbed a hank of your hair, forcing you up and out of the trunk. You cried out at the searing pain to your head.

“Shut up, whore!” You were slapped and he yanked you up against him, grinning maniacally down into your face. He bent down and latched his mouth across yours in a horrible excuse for a kiss.

Instantly, you brought your knee up into his groin, and as he bent over to grab his crotch and yell out in pain, you took off. 

It was dark and raining outside, but you could tell as you ran, that you were surrounded by woods. And there was a cabin. A cabin that you knew to stay away from. That’s where he was bringing you, you knew it. So you had to stay away from it. You knew if you set foot in that cabin with Brad, you were as good as dead–or worse.

You ran. And you ran. And you ran. Fighting for breath and energy, you ran through the trees, and brush, and over fallen logs as fast as your legs would carry you.

Suddenly, you heard a loud pop. Followed by another and another. By the time you realized you were being shot at, a searing pain hit you in the shoulder and only an instant later you heard another pop. You were thrown to the ground by the force of the bullet. But there was no time to stop and rest. You climbed to your feet despite the pain in your right shoulder, and took off running again, though much slower this time around. 

You suddenly stepped on thin air and dropped to the ground. Frantically looking behind you, you had fallen from a drop-off in the ground, a cliff of sorts. You scrambled back, trying to ignore the pain in your shoulder, and huddled underneath the cliff hoping you were well-hidden in the dark.

You hoped that Brad would give up on you and then you could somehow get out of the woods and find the main road. From there you would try flagging someone down to help you.

But somehow, you knew that Brad was not going to give up. He knew that if you got help he’d be in big trouble. You froze then, and realization dawned. “He’s going to kill me.”

He wouldn’t want you to get help because he’d spend his life in prison. He was going to rape you and kill you afterward.

You sobbed, and hugged your knees closer to your chest. A sharp pain engulfed your shoulder and you sobbed again. “Please, someone… Come looking for me,” you whispered to yourself. You hoped against hope that Amy was able to get free and find help.

You didn’t know when you fell asleep, but  a sudden crackle of twigs on the ground being stepped on woke you.

You huddled silently, hoping that if it was Brad he would go away and think you’d run the other direction. 

“Y/N? Baby girl?”

Your head shot up at that. You’d know that velvety voice anywhere even though it had been three long months since you’d last heard it. Why was he here, looking for you? How did he know where to look?

“Roman?”

You gingerly stood to your feet and walked toward his voice. “Roman?”

There was no one here. Certainly not Roman. You must have just dreamed of his voice.

Now, you wanted to cry. Not only would you give anything to see him again, but to think he’d come to your rescue, only to find out he hadn’t… It was too much. 

You covered your face with your hands and sobbed. “Roman…”

You didn’t know how long you stood there, sobbing, but apparently it was long enough for Brad to find you, because he suddenly latched onto the arm of your wounded shoulder. You shrieked in pain and struggled against him. You earned a hard punch to the jaw for your trouble. Stunned, you would have fallen to the ground if he’d not held you up. He stooped down and lifted you over his shoulder and began carrying you. You could only assume he was heading for the cabin.

You wanted to fight. You really did. But your head–it hurt so badly now. And your right arm was heavy and useless. 

“Help me, please…” you whimpered to no one in particular.

You heard Brad snicker. “There’s no one around here for miles, doll. You’re all mine.”

He’d reached the cabin then because you saw as he climbed the steps to the porch. “Please, let me go…”

“Not a chance.”

He carried you into the cabin, and seemed to know exactly where he was going. Was this cabin his? Or had he broken into it and merely learned the floor plan? You were tossed unceremoniously onto a bed, and immediately your left wrist was pinned above your head and cuffed to the head of the bed. Then he took your right wrist and proceeded to be a little extra rough with it, seeing as it was your bullet-wounded side. You cried out and tried to struggle, but all you got out of the struggle was a slap to the face and a punch to the stomach to immobilize you.

While you were trying to get some air into your lungs, Brad cuffed your remaining wrist and then began working on your ankles. You kicked him in the face, and he grew angry–pulled out his gun and pointed it at you. “Do you want another bullet? Do you?” 

You immediately froze. You already had one gunshot wound that hurt like nothing you’d ever felt before. You didn’t want another one.

“That’s what I thought,” he said, and proceeded to cuff your ankles to the foot of the bed. “I have two bullets left. One for each of us. I wouldn’t want to use them too soon.” He pulled out a pair of shears, and snapped the scissors in your face with a chuckle before moving them down to the hem of your waitress uniform. 

“You're sick, Brad.” The words slipped out before you could stop them. But it was the truth. This was a sick, sick man.

“Maybe I am. But I’m going to give you a good test drive before I die, so think on that, baby.”  He began cutting upward on your dress and exposing you completely, save for your bra and panties.

You tugged on your cuffed ankles and wrists, to no avail. The cuffs were too tight to free yourself. You weren’t going anywhere.

Brad laughed. “Here, I’ll even let you hold the key to the cuffs. And I’ll make you a deal. If you can get your wrists close enough together to unlock the cuffs, you can go free.”

He put the key in your hand and tried to watch with a straight face as you strained your arms, trying to bring them close enough together for the key to reach. But he’d cuffed your hands far enough apart on the headboard that there was no way to reach one hand to the other. You sobbed, and strained even harder, cutting your wrists in the process. You could feel blood sliding down your arms.

“Wow, you’re desperate to get out of here, huh?” Brad laughed, and spoke again, “You can hold on to the key while I make love to you. Then you can die with it in your hand. I want you to die knowing the literal key to freedom was in your hand the whole time.”

“You won’t get away with this.”

“I don’t plan to. I plan to die alongside you, baby. I’ll have you forever in eternity.”

“You’re truly twisted!”

He reached down and dug his finger into your bullet wound. The scream that tore from your lips was something you’d never heard before. The pain… it was… unbearable. 

You passed out almost immediately, meeting pure, sweet blackness.

}i{}i{}i{}i{}i{

“Are you sure you know the way to this cabin you were telling me about,” Roman asked, pressing his foot down harder on the gas pedal.

“Y-yes. I watched where he took me. It’s down this highway a few more miles. Then turn to the right,” Amy replied. “Please, go faster!”

He didn't have to be told twice. Roman gunned the engine and flew down the highway, not particularly caring if a cop tried to stop him or not. Maybe they’d get the police on the right track if they did stop him.

“So tell me what happened,” Roman said as he drove. “I need to know.”

“I was getting off work and he was waiting for me out by my car. He told me that he had Hayley and Y/N and if I didn’t come with him… I’d never see them alive again. So, I went with him. That’s when he took me to the cabin and tied me up. I asked him where the girls were, and he just laughed. Said that I fell for his trick and if I didn’t do as he said, Y/N would pay dearly.”

“So he just held you there for several hours,” Roman clarified. “He didn’t hurt you?”

“No. He hit me once for struggling against him, but no, other than that, he didn’t hurt me.”

“Y/N tried to help me,” Amy went on, needing to get it all off her chest. “But he… He slapped her and then even when she agreed to go with him to keep him from hurting me, he hit her in the head with the butt of his gun.”

Roman didn’t know what to say. He was angry that Y/N had been treated in such a barbaric manner. “He’ll pay,” he promised. Roman looked over at Amy then. “He’ll pay. I swear it.”

There was a long silence, and Roman couldn’t stand it. It made him think too much.

“Talk to me,” he said to Amy; his voice getting more deeply pitched with his worry. “I can’t be thinking about what he’s doing to her. Tell me how you three met.”

“We met online. On a blog site called Tumblr. Y/N and I started talking about The Walking Dead one night, and we hit it off from there. Then Y/N and Hayley started talking on Tumblr and X–at the time, Twitter, and they hit it off. Then Y/N introduced me and Hayley and we almost instantly became best friends.

Roman chuckled in spite of himself. “Y/N did tell me she was an internet junkie. So how long have y’all been close?”

“About eight years, I think.”

“That’s a long time.”

Amy nodded. “It is.” She looked over at him. “We’ll find her, right?”

“Yes.”

“This is the right turn!”

Barely making the turn, Roman flung the steering wheel to the right and turned down a dirt road.

“Take this road for about two miles and the cabin is on the left side of the road.”

“Okay,” Roman pressed harder on the gas and was easily going seventy to eighty miles per hour on the old dirt road. He hoped no one got in his way, they’d be a sitting duck if they did, because he was not stopping. Not for anything.

“You can see the driveway from here,” Amy said, pointing ahead off to the left. 

Roman floored it. “Hang on, tight.”

Amy grasped at the dashboard and and the arm rest and indeed held on while Roman gunned the rental as hard as it would go.

They reached the driveway in seconds and Roman skidded to a stop. 

“I need you to stay here.” 

“No! I’m coming with you!”

“I can’t protect both of you at the same time,” Roman told Amy. “I need you to stay here. Get the police called and wait here for them. There’s no time to argue,” he said, getting out of the car. “Just do as I say!”

He turned and ran for the cabin and as soon as he reached the door, he tested it, and was surprised that it opened with no issues. Instantly, he decided to be quiet and catch Brad by surprise. He couldn’t afford to go in with guns ablazing and cause Y/N to get more hurt than she already was.

He crept down a long hallway and glanced in each room till he came to one that had a flurry of motion in it. A man, on top of a woman.

On a bed.

Brad. Y/N. Brad is on top of my woman, “ Roman thought, seeing red.

Just red.

He noted that Y/N wasn’t screaming or moving or anything as he lunged in a suicide dive and tackled Brad away from her. He punched the man over and over in the kidneys, the liver, the head, anywhere he could reach. Finally, the guy seemed out cold enough, and Roman stood to his feet and sat on the edge of the bed that Y/N was on. He had the urge to immediately take her into his arms, but he knew he could frighten her worse if he did. So, he calmly took in the state of her well-being. Noting that she was tied to the bed in just her under garments, he seethed.

He actually cuffed her wrists and ankles to the bed. His blood boiled as he scanned the area for a possible key to free her with. He saw none. And he was not skilled in picking a lock, let alone four of them. 

Worried over her condition, he moved up on the bed a ways and gently ran his finger down her bruised cheek, assessing the damage that was done to her.

Her forehead was dotted with sweat and her skin felt cold and clammy to the touch. She was clearly in shock. “Baby girl,” he whispered, his voice rumbling in his throat. “Sweetheart,” he said a little louder. “Wake up for me, honey.” Then his eyes fell on the wound at her shoulder. Obviously a gunshot wound. 

“He shot you?”

She jolted slightly, and managed to come to a bit. A pained moan passed her lips.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Wake up for me.”

“R-Roman…?”

}i{}i{}i{}i{}i{

You felt a slight pang of pain at your cheek as you came awake. It felt as if a finger was tenderly tracing the bruises on your face.

That can’t be right, you thought. There was nothing tender about Brad. You fought off a cry of pain. Everything hurt.

“He shot you?”

You jumped slightly at the accusation in the tone of voice. And then you recognized that beautiful voice.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Wake up for me.”

“R-Roman…?”

You turned your head slightly and winced, managed to open your eyes a little. Roman was sitting on the edge of the bed you were cuffed to and he looked angry. But not at you. There was only tenderness in his eyes when he looked at you.

“Yeah, baby girl, it’s Roman. I’m here, honey.” He eyed your wounded wrists and ankles and you could tell he was having trouble keeping himself from losing it. “Do you happen to know where the key is, baby?”

“In my hand,” you whispered hoarsely. “I need it though.”

“What do you mean?”

“When I wake up. I need it. To get free. He said if I could manage to unlock myself, he’d let me go.”

“Honey, you are awake,” he told you, cupping your face in his large hand. “I promise.”

You shook your head and a tear spilled down your temple. “No,” you sobbed. “I’m dreaming you again. I have to be.”

“I’ll prove I’m real, Y/N. Just…” he reached for the key in your hand. “Just give me the key, sweetheart.”

With a soft sob, you released the key and let Roman take it. WIthin a minute, he had your wrists free, then your ankles. You cried out softly as he removed the cuffs. They’d dug into your skin due to being too tight.

Roman inspected your wounds. Thankfully they didn’t look or feel too deep–they shouldn’t need stitches.

“You’re gonna be okay, baby. I promise.”

You nodded weakly. And managed to sit up on the bed with Roman’s help. 

“Did he…?” Roman started, unsure of how to ask the question. He eyed your cut uniform dress. “Did he…?”

You knew what he wanted to know. “No. He was going to. And then he was going to kill me and committ suicide. He said I’d be his for all eternity.” It was absurd, but so frightening to think about. You fell into Roman’s arms and sobbed. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“Believe it,” he told you. “I’ll never leave you again. Not ever.”

“DIE! BOTH OF YOU!” Brad lunged up out of the floor suddenly, and attacked Roman. He pulled his gun out of his pants and aimed it at Roman. It fired, and merely scraped Roman’s bicep. He grunted in pain, but didn’t take the time to acknowledge the fire blooming up his arm.

“NO!” You screamed with a newfound energy as you watched Brad aim the gun at Roman’s chest. You dove and grabbed at the gun, determined that it would not fire and hit the man you’d somehow quickly fallen for. You grabbed hold of the gun and tried to wrestle it away from Brad, but he had an iron-clad grip on it as well.

“Y/N! NOO!” Roman roared the warning and lunged toward the both of you, but it was too late. 

In your weakened state, Brad lowered the gun to your abdomen and fired. 

Wet fire bloomed across your stomach, and a look of disbelief crossed your face. A whimper passed your lips and then you managed to whisper weakly, a tremble in your voice: 

“You only shot me. You didn’t kill Roman.”

“NO!” Roman roared again, and dove to your side as you crumpled. He caught you and eased you down to the floor.

“God, baby, why? Why did you do that?” Roman demanded, holding you closely.

“Because… you’re everything… to me…”

You felt yourself weakening, but he had to know the truth. “I know its… too fast… But, I l-love…you.”

“I love you,”  Roman said softly. “Don’t leave me, Y/N. Stay with me. Don’t you dare leave me.”

You weakly lifted your hand, placed it on his face. He held it there for you. “I don’t want to leave you… but…” 

“No buts. You can’t leave me. Not now. Not ever.”

“So… Sorry…”

Your hand fell away then, and you went completely limp in his arms. Your eyes closed and your head fell to the side…

}i{}i{}i{}i{}i{

“NOO! NO! NO!” Roman tilted his head up and howled a war cry that was both mournful and full of fury.

Brad had watched the whole display with a smirk on his face.

Until the large Samoan’s black eyes glittered, and settled on him. 

“You’re dead,” Roman said calmly.

Too calmly.

Brad began to back up, but what he didn’t realize was that Amy had run inside after hearing the gunshots. She snuck up behind him with a tire iron in her hands, and shot it straight up between his legs.

Brad made a strange sound, almost as if he was inhaling and exhaling at the same time.  And hunched forward to grab his crotch, when Roman raced forward and grabbed him into his guillotine submission hold. But instead of merely rendering him unconscious, he pulled harder on his neck until he heard a satisfying CRACK.

Brad’s limp body fell to the floor then, and Amy gasped and paled, turned away, and instantly dropped down beside Y/N. “Oh my God…” 

She felt for her pulse at her neck, and sobbed. “Roman, she’s alive! She has a pulse!”

Roman crouched down on the other side of Y/N and felt for her pulse also. He had to know for sure. He was afraid to believe Amy without seeing for himself.

His fingers brushed over her neck in search of a steady thump. Instead he found a ragged, thready pulse. But it was a pulse nonetheless.

“Y/N…” He nearly sobbed her name in relief. 

“The police and an ambulance were dispatched,” Amy said softly. “They should be here any-”

And at that moment, like a Godsend, police came rushing into the room and a pair of paramedics instantly began working on Y/N.  The police surrounded Brad’s body, and dispatched for a coroner. Within minutes, the paramedics had Y/N hooked up to an IV, and situated on a gurney with a pressure bandage on her abdomen. They began rolling her out of the house and both Roman and Amy followed close behind, preparing to ride with her. They’d agreed to give their statements to the police at the hospital.

Roman held Y/N’s hand the whole way, urging the ambulance driver to hurry up, while Amy was on the phone with Hayley, telling her what hospital to meet them at.

They finally exited the forest and came to the highway that Roman had sped down no more than an hour before. The ambulance’s siren was blaring and Roman and Amy were both thankful that the other driver’s were courteous enough to get out of the emergency vehicle’s way.

Once the ambulance made it back into the city, they sped for Mount Sinai Hospital. 

When they arrived, the staff immediately rolled Y/N back to the operating room and began prepping her for surgery to remove the bullets from her. 

Roman was taken back to be stitched up from the bullet’s graze he’d suffered. He didn’t care about it in the least. He only wanted to see Y/N alive and well. 

Once he was done with getting his wound treated, he went back to the waiting room and spotted Amy and Hayley sitting together. He went and sat next to them, but remained silent. He couldn’t think of anything but Y/N. 

After what seemed like several hours, but in actuality wasn’t but a couple, a female doctor came into the room and asked for Amy and Hayley–seeing as they were Y/N’s emergency contacts.

They and Roman stood and made their way to the doctor.

“How is she,” the women asked anxiously. Hayley rubbed her arms, a habit she’d developed ever since Brad had started stalking Y/N.

“I’m Doctor Smith. Y/N is in the recovery room as of right now. We removed two bullets; one from her shoulder and one from her liver. We had to do a resectioning–which means we cut away the damaged part of the liver. It will grow back in time.”

“Is she going to be okay,” Roman demanded, he was practically pacing like a caged animal and looking very worried.

“I look for her to fully recover, yes,” the doctor said kindly, seeming to realize that Roman was on edge. “She will be put in the Intensive Care Unit for a couple of days and we will see how she does. If she does well enough, I’ll move her to a regular room until I see that she’s well enough to be discharged.”

“We want to see her,” he said. His facial expression left no room for argument.

“Alright, as soon as we get her settled in an ICU room, we will come get you and let you all see her, but only for a few minutes at first. She needs her rest.”

About a half hour later, Roman, Amy and Hayley were all escorted back to the ICU room that Y/N was in. They were again warned that they could only see her for a little bit and they were left to visit with her while she slept.

The women talked to Y/N and told her everything was going to be okay, and held her hands, while Roman hung back and let the best friends have a few moments. Then they decided to hang out in the hallway so Roman could have some alone time with her. They knew by the distressed look on his face, that he needed the time with her.

He took hold of her hand in his large one and tried to gently wake her. He needed so desperately to see her eyes on his face again.

“Sweetheart? Can you hear me?”

She whimpered in her sleep and her brows drew together as she twitched.

“Shh, you’re safe now. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

She leaned toward him and her eyes slowly opened…

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The Proposition

Part 2:

You walked into Gary’s Cafe, and nearly cringed at seeing Brad waiting for you in a booth. The instant he heard the bell clang over the door he looked up and his emerald gaze found you immediately.

“Great,” You muttered under your breath. “This is all I need.”

“Y/N… Where have you been? I’ve tried calling you. I went by your place last night and you weren’t home…”

“I had my phone turned off. And I was-” You stopped suddenly. Realization dawning on you “It’s none of your business where I was, Brad. We’re through. You need to get that through your head. You were the one to dump me, remember?”

“I told you, that was a mistake. I don’t want to break up with you.”

“Well, I could care less. I-”

He took your arm much like he had last night, but with a bit more caution. He tugged you into the kitchen so you could discuss things more privately.

“You’re not allowed back here,” you hissed.

“What were you doing with that guy last night?” He demanded. “Did you sleep with him?”

“I don’t like your audacity, Brad. Again, it’s none of your business- OW!” 

He squeezed your arm painfully. Fire bloomed up your forearm where he gripped you, and then he growled in your ear, “Be quiet, or I’ll snap your arm. Right here, right now.”

“Let go of me,” you said quietly, glaring into his green eyes.  “This is OVER.”

“We’ll see about that, baby. We’ll see about that.” He finally released your arm and stalked back out of the kitchen and sailed out the building’s exit as if he owned the place.

“What next,” you wondered out loud, taking a look at the kitchen. Gary was nowhere in sight. Probably on a smoke break outside. He wouldn’t have let Brad treat you in such a way if he’d seen what had happened. But he wasn’t around at the moment. And the other waitress that was helping you with the breakfast rush had been busy with orders while the abuse had gone on. 

No witnesses. Just great.

Too bad Roman wasn’t around, because it sounded as if Brad wasn’t going to give up on you so easily.

At the thought of Roman, you fought tears. And groaned. “I’m supposed to be forgetting about him,” you thought aloud. “He has probably already forgotten about the chick that didn’t even have the courage to have a full one-night stand with him.”

Regret filled your heart. If only…

If only you’d gone through with it, you might have some really good memories to feast on, instead of just a few stolen kisses to remember. Though those were nice to think on as well.

You sighed dejectedly, and got to work taking breakfast orders.

By the time your shift was over in the afternoon, you were exhausted. You’d been on your feet for several hours straight, and you’d gone non-stop trying to forget both Roman and Brad. Each for a different reason, but so be it.

You clocked out before someone asked you to stay longer, and took off your apron in the kitchen–began counting up your tips. 

Not too bad, considering it was only a few hours.

You grabbed your purse out of your locker and stuffed the money into your checkbook till you could put it in your tip jar at home. 

You kept your tips in a large jar, and then deposited them into your bank account about once a month, so you could add to your income that way.

Tugging your purse onto your shoulder, you called out goodbye to Gary, and then headed out to the parking lot. It had a few cars on it, but most of them were empty due to the patrons being inside the cafe. You glanced over to your car, and stopped in your tracks. 

Brad was waiting, leaned up against your driver’s side door, so you couldn’t escape him.

For a moment, you were tempted to go and get Gary. But you didn't. You didn’t wish to drag anyone else into your problems.

“What do you want,” you asked, reaching your car.

“I want to take you to a late lunch,” Brad said, brushing his hand over his short-cropped brown hair.

“Well, I don’t want to go to lunch with you. I want to go home and have a nap.”

You started to nudge him out of your way to get into your car, but he was planted where he was.

“Listen, I’m sorry things went down the way they did,” Brad tried to sound regretful, but you could see through his facade. “How about we just get a bite and talk for a bit. Then you could go home and take your nap?”

“Brad…. There is nothing to talk about. I’m trying to explain this so you understand. When you dumped me simply because I wouldn’t sleep with you, that showed me what kind of man–or boy–you are. I don’t find that attractive in the least. I do not want to stay together with you.”

You thought, briefly, that you’d gotten through to him, until he smirked cockily at you.

“If you’d give me just five minutes, you’d want to sleep with me.”

You rolled your eyes at him, “Okay, that’s enough. Let me get into my car.”

“Is it because of that guy last night?”

For an instant you thought about telling him the truth, that you’d not slept with Roman. But A) it was none of his business. And B) you could use it to your advantage.

“Yeah, okay? It is because of Roman. He showed me things that you couldn’t even dream of!”

You understood your mistake when the snarl crossed Brad’s face. “I gave you three months of my life–three months! And you couldn’t even give me a- You were with him for one single night and you slept with him?

He was practically frothing at the mouth as he yelled at you. Then he lunged forward and grabbed you by the throat.

“How dare you, you little whore!”

You struggled in his hold, and fought to free yourself. “Let go of me!” You choked out. 

To your surprise, he released your throat and glared down at you. “Mark my words, Y/N. You’ll be mine. Mine.”

He walked over to his huge pickup truck and climbed in, and drove away, leaving you shaken to your core.

Shuddering, and on the verge of tears, you got into your car and sped straight for home.

}i{}i{}i{}i{}i{

“Why don’t you somehow get her number, and call her, Uce?”

Many days had passed since Roman had dropped Y/N off at her condo, and  he’d left her. A month to be exact.

I left her, he thought to himself. How could I leave her after the way she looked at me? Like I was the only man for her?

“Ro? You okay?”

Jimmy and Jey prodded him to talk, but he didn’t want to. So he simply said, “I gave her my number, and she hasn’t called,” as he tied the laces on his wrestling boots. “Besides, I’m not into relationships right now.”

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that,” Jimmy said, squeezing his wife’s hand. “I thought the same thing about myself, and then Naomi came along.”

“This isn’t what you and Naomi have,” Roman denied, standing to his feet. “It was nothing.”

“Yeah ‘nothing’ is stretched tightly across your face,” Jey said, rolling his eyes.  “It was nothing,” he mocked.

“Oh, shut up,” Roman growled, stalking from the room. He loved his cousins but sometimes, they expected him to confide in them like they were all a bunch of school girls from the old sitcom, Saved By the Bell.

Heading down the hall to the gorilla position, he took a few minutes to think of her though. He missed her, plain and simple. She’d made a special place in his heart, just by sharing one night with him. And they hadn’t done anything but talk and make out a little bit. He could only imagine what it would be like right now, if they’d followed through with their one night stand.

He remembered the soft touches. The taste of her lips. He’d come so close to having her. All of her. And all to himself. 

He couldn’t stop thinking about her. To the point that his matches weren’t going as well as he wanted. She consumed his every thought. He was even contemplating a relationship with her, if she’d have him. He felt so unworthy of her. That was part of the problem. She was so pure, and innocent and refreshing. She was the type of woman who didn’t want sex, she wanted to make love. And he actually wanted that too. With her. And only her.

He shook his head when his music boomed out. And he got himself in the zone then. He had to forget about her. At least for now.

He walked out to a huge crowd in St. Petersburg and pandered to them all. Prompting them to acknowledge him by pointing his finger at the sky. He wasn’t disappointed. The majority of the people did the same.

He looked at his opponents in the ring: L.A. Knight, Randy Orton and AJ Styles, and knew that he was going to be banged up after this match. But it would be worth it. They would put on one amazing show for the fans, of that he was certain. He took his time getting to the ring and climbing into the squared circle. Then he played up to the crowds some more and confidently handed his belt over to the referee while patiently waiting for Samantha Irvine to make the introductions…

}i{}i{}i{}i{}i{

2 Months Later…

“Are you sure you want to go in today, Y/N.” Amy asked softly, as you pulled a brush through your hair and secured the long waves up into a ponytail. “I mean, what if Brad ambushes you yet again?” Hayley nodded her agreement, her brown eyes flashing in anger.

You smiled gently at your best friends and reassured them. “I have to work, girls. There’s no way around it. I’ll be fine. He’s actually been staying away pretty well lately. He’s just…sick is all. He’s only doing stuff like sending me flowers–as if that’s really gonna win me over.” You laughed and tried to play it off as no big deal. But the truth was you were frightened. After Brad had tried to choke you in the cafe’s parking lot, he’d shown up at your condo a little later, apologizing profusely for his behavior and vowing to make it up to you. You’d promptly told him to go away. That you didn’t want to see him ever again. But he just kept asking for you to give him one more chance as he backed away and left your condo.

“Just one more chance, Y/N.” He turned and left before you could even respond to him.

You had no intention of giving him one more chance. You just wanted him to go away and leave you alone. But you were so afraid he wouldn’t. If only Roman was around. 

You froze. It wasn’t the first time you’d had that thought, but you wished it would go away too. Roman wasn’t coming back for you. It’d been about three months since he’d left you. If he was going to show up and come to your rescue he would have done it by now.

“What? What’s wrong?” 

You turned to Hayley and saw a look of concern on her face at your tensing up. “I’m fine. Just a little nervous is all.” You rolled your neck and shoulders a bit trying to loosen up some of the tension in your muscles. “Just… If he was to show up here… Look out the peephole, and if it’s him do NOT go to the door. Please.”

Amy nodded, “Okay. Don’t worry. We’ll be fine,” she said, giving you a hug.

“I’m sorry to drag y’all into my mess,” you said, hugging Amy back, and then Hayley. “If I’d known he was such a psycho, I’d never have gone out with him.”

“It’s not your fault,” the girls said in unison.

“He is the one with the problem, not you,” Hayley added. 

You nodded, “I know, but if anything ever happened to one of you because of me…”

“Shh,” Amy shushed you and rubbed your shoulder affectionately. “Nothing’s going to happen to us. And it wouldn’t be because of you, either.”

A tear spilled over your cheek and you groaned as you rolled your eyes. “I cry so easily anymore. I’m sorry.” You wiped at your tears and picked up your purse, preparing to leave for work. “I’ve got to get going. Just be safe, ladies. Please.”

“We’ll be fine. Now go, and you be safe too,” Hayley said, patting your back. 

You nodded, and headed out the door. Within a couple of minutes you had your car started and were heading to work.

}i{}i{}i{}i{}i{

“Alice, your order for table nine is ready to go!” Gary called out and placed the plates of food up on the counter so Alice could pick them up and deliver them to said table.

You were on lobby duty, which meant wiping down vacated tables and collecting your tips, when another couple of customers walked into the cafe. She and her date sat down at a booth and waited for you to bring them some menus and cutlery.

“Hi guys, I’m Y/N and I’ll be your waitress for this evening. What can I get you to drink?”

“Coke for me,” said the blond girl.

“Dr. Pepper for me,” said her date, a tallish young guy with dark hair.

“Coming right up,” you told them with a smile and headed for the drink station.

You were filling their glasses when your cell phone vibrated in your apron pocket. Quickly, you glanced at it to make sure it wasn’t just a spam call. 

Amy?

That was weird. The girls never called you during work hours. Instantly worried, you answer the cell phone.

“Amy? What’s wrong?”

“Y/N! Don’t come out! It’s a trap! Get-”

Suddenly, her voice was muffled, but you could hear her still trying to scream. You felt yourself pale at the frantic sound of your best friend’s voice. 

“Amy? Amy, what’s wrong??”

“Get out here to the dumpster if you want to see her alive again.”

Brad’s voice. He had Amy!

“I mean it Y/N. I’ll kill her.”

“Okay. I’m coming.”

You hung up and instantly began gathering up the waste basket’s trash bag so you’d have a logical reason to be going outside and not call any attention to yourself. You tugged the bag from the basket and carried it outside, walking toward the dumpster. You shook as you walked, and not just because of the chill in the air. You stumbled over a large crack in the concrete and nearly went down on your trembling knees. Finally, you reached the dumpster and looked around it. You didn’t see anyone. You dropped the bag of trash and left it sitting on the pavement as you started to investigate.

“We’re behind the dumpster,” came Brad’s voice. “Come to me, Y/N. Or she dies.”

Quickly, you walked around the dumpster, and spotted Amy immediately. She was sitting on the concrete, leaned up against the dumpster and tied up at the wrists and ankles. Tape was over her mouth, her eyes wide with fright.

“Amy!”

You dove to her side to untie her when Brad moved out of the shadows and grabbed you by the hair. “Not so fast, Y/N. You’re coming with me.” He laughed then, a maniacal gleam in his green eyes.

“You’ve lost your mind, Brad.” You said softly, your voice shaking as you spoke. “Let us go. Now.”

You were backhanded for your trouble, and collided with the dumpster’s unforgiving metal. 

“I’ve not lost my mind at all. You’re mine, Y/N. You always have been.” 

You clearly weren't going to get out of this without some help. You needed Amy untied so she could run and find someone to call 911. 

“Okay, Brad. Okay,” you said softly, ignoring the throbbing pain in your cheek. You raised your hands in a defensive gesture and slowly lowered yourself toward Amy. “Just let me untie her and let her go. Then we can leave. Together.”

Amy started struggling then and crying out against the tape on her mouth. You could tell she was telling you not to do it. But you had no choice. You couldn’t let him hurt Amy.

“Leave her,” he said, pulling out a handgun. 

You froze. “Brad. What is wrong with you? Have you completely lost it?” You demanded.

He pointed the gun at Amy. “Get away from her now. She stays here. Tied up–so she can’t cause me any trouble.”

Suddenly, you were eager to get him as far away from your best friend–your sister–as was possible.

“Okay, Brad. Let’s just go.” You started toward him slowly so he wouldn’t feel threatened. “Just don’t hurt her.”

“You did sleep with him, didn’t you?”

The question caught you off guard because it was so random all of a sudden. But you instantly knew he was referring to Roman.

“N-no. I didn’t. I just said I did.”

“You little tease! You whore! I can’t trust anything you say now!” 

The next thing you knew, he’d drawn the gun back and struck you across the cheek with it. You were out cold before you ever hit the concrete.

}i{}i{}i{}i{}i{

Roman couldn’t seem to drive quickly enough. Even in the torrential downpour that was going on. He was definitely not driving safely, but he didn’t care. He had one thing on his mind.

He had just finished his main event tag team match with his cousins at Madison Square Garden, and was heading for Y/N’s condo. 

He couldn’t stand it anymore. He had to see Y/N. Had to make her his. Even if he had to wait a long time for it. He would. For her. She was so worth the wait.

He sped down the street and pulled in at Y/N’s condo. Flying out of his rental, he ran through the rain and when he reached her door he pounded on it. “Y/N! Open the door baby!”

The door did open, but the dark-haired woman that emerged was not Y/N. By a long shot. 

This woman was frightened and angry. He could see it on her face. 

“Where’s Y/N?”

“You creep! You left her and now Amy is missing and I can’t reach Y/N! I don’t know how this is your fault, but I’m sure it is! I will kick your-”

Roman wasted no more time. He simply ducked down, picked the hysterical woman up caveman style and carried her into the foyer of the large condo. She began beating on his back till he lowered himself again and deposited her onto a sofa in the living room.

“First of all, who are you?”

The woman seemed to calm a little and replied, “I’m Hayley.”

“Okay, Hayley… Where. Is. Y/N?”

“She was supposed to be at work, but she’s not answering her phone!”

Roman cursed softly. This wasn’t good.

“What about your other friend? Where is she?”

“I don’t know! She’s missing! She was supposed to be home hours ago! I called the police and they are supposed to be looking for her, but I’ve heard nothing from them yet!”

Roman rubbed the back of his neck. “Okay. I want you to stay here. In case they come back,” he clarified. “I will go check out the cafe and see what I can find out. Keep the doors locked, do not answer the door unless it’s them, the police, or me.”

For some reason, Hayley didn’t argue. She simply gave a nod and rubbed her arms as though she was cold.

Roman left then and climbed into his rental, starting it up instantly. 

He had the drive to Gary’s Cafe driven in ten minutes flat. He parked and ran inside hoping against hope that he’d see Y/N inside waiting tables.

No such luck. 

There was another waitress waiting on tables, but no Y/N.

He approached the older waitress and gently touched her shoulder, “Can you tell me where Y/N is?”

“I have no idea,” the woman exclaimed. “She just left me high and dry to wait tables. That is so unlike her. She is normally so helpful.” He was already running to the kitchen, not caring that it was against the rules. “Sir, you’re not allowed back there!” The waitress called out.

“Where is Y/N?” He asked Gary, ignoring the waitress.

“She took the trash out about twenty minutes ago. She should be back inside and waiting tables by now.”

“Well, she’s not,” Roman snapped. He turned around and left, heading outside.

Trying to keep the rain out of his eyes so he could see clearly, he instantly spotted a bag of trash laying on the concrete not far from the lone dumpster. He jogged over to it and inspected the area. No one was around.

He suddenly heard a feminine grunt and a soft cry. A muffled voice. Coming from behind the dumpster.

He hurried around it and spotted a young woman tied up and sitting in the rain.

Cursing, Roman tried to gently pull the tape from her mouth. 

“Are you Amy,” he asked. 

She looked at him, eyes wide and nodded, “Y-yes. You’re… Roman?”

It was his turn to nod. “Where is Y/N, Amy?” He demanded as he began untying her.

“Brad took her.”

Roman froze. “That’s her ex?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have any idea where he took her?”

“Take me with you. I can lead you to where he was holding me. That’s the only place I can think of that he’d take her. It’s deep in the woods. A cabin.”

Roman finished untying her and helped her to her feet. “Come on. We have to go.” He handed Amy his cell phone, “Call your friend, Hayley. Let her know what’s going on.”

And then they were running for his car as Amy dialed Hayley. Roman stifled an angry growl as he got in the driver’s seat. “He better hope she’s not hurt.”

“He knocked her out,” Amy cried, shock entering her eyes. He hit her! With a gun!”

Starting the car, Roman peeled out of the parking lot and floored it onto the street as Amy directed him where to go.

He had to find his woman. He just had to. She was his. 

His.

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The Proposition

Part 1:

It had been a week since the break up with Brad. The relationship had lasted all of three months before he had decided that being with you was just too much. Your ‘no sex’ rule was just too much.

“Guys need sex,” he’d said, as if he was explaining biology to you. “There are only so many cold showers I can stand, Y/N.”

So he’d dumped you. At TGIFriday’s.

And you couldn’t say you were heartbroken about it.

“Order up!” You called loudly, getting Gary, the cook’s, attention. You placed the order slip on the rotating check spindle, and went to check on some of the other customers in the cafe, refilling coffee, and serving desserts as was requested of you.

Suddenly, the bell clanged over the door of the cafe, and you glanced up to see how many customers you needed to get menus for.

Some of the biggest, most handsome Polynesian men you’d ever seen walked into the cafe and waited at the door to be greeted. There were four of them. One wore a shirt that read “YEET”. One had dreadlocks. One had his long dark hair weaved back into several braids–other than the hair, he looked identical to the one in the YEET shirt. And then… 

Then the last one sauntered in like he owned the place–the whole city. HIs long black hair was pulled back into a man bun and his beard was neatly groomed. Black eyes searched the room, and time seemed to freeze as they settled on you. He didn’t adjust to the other customers’ energy level. They adjusted to his.

“Sit anywhere you like,” you called out to the men with a friendly but shy smile. “I’ll be with you in a moment.”  

The group of men headed for the big table in the center of the room and took a seat.

You counted their heads and grabbed a few menus, and sets of cutlery before heading back to their table to take their drink orders.

“Hi, I’m Y/N. I’ll be your waitress tonight. What can I get y’all to drink?” You asked, passing out the menus and placing a set of cutlery in front of each of the men. There were four of them and you hoped you would do a good enough job to get a decent tip from them.

“Water,” was the resounding answer so you wrote “H2O X 4” on the order slip and smiled at them. “I’ll be right back with those waters.”

“Could I have a slice of lime in mine?” Came a deep voice. You looked for the owner of it and found yourself staring into the black eyes of the man bun guy.

“S-sure thing,” you stammered only slightly, as you took in his appearance. He wore a black t-shirt with big silver letters that read “OTC”, and around the letters were the words “Original Tribal Chief”. 

And that he is, you thought. The title fit him perfectly. You noticed he was wearing a pair of black running pants and a new looking pair of black and white Nike’s. His right arm had a full sleeve of tribal tattoos going all the way down to his wrist.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he said, breaking your attention from his clothing and tattoos and resettling it on his handsome face.

“You’re welcome,” you said softly, turning on your heel and attempting to hide the flush creeping up your face. You headed for the drink station and began pouring up four glasses of ice water and put a slice of lime on one of the glass’s rim. Quickly, you grabbed your drink tray and loaded the waters onto the circular tray, before heading back to the table to serve them.

“Here is y’all’s waters,” you said, careful to place the lime water in front of the handsome Samoan you ogled just minutes before. And then proceeded to set a glass of water down in front of the rest of the men.

Once that feat was complete, you pulled out your order pad and poised your pen above the pad. “Do you guys know what you want, or do you need a little more time to think it over?”

“I know exactly what I want.” 

Your gaze flew up to meet the handsome Samoan’s again. Was there a hidden meaning there? You wondered. If the slight twitch of his mouth–aimed at you–-was anything to go by, you’d say there was.

“I’ll have the double cheeseburger–no onions, and fries.”

You wrote it down with a shy smile on your face, and then wrote down each of the other men’s orders. YEET guy ordered the same as the Triblal Chief, his twin ordered waffles—“It’s gotta be breakfast somewhere, Uce!” He’s said. And the dreads guy ordered a steak. “Rare.” It wasn’t a demand, but you sure hoped that Gary cooked the stake right. “Alright guys, I’ll go get this started for you all.” You tore the slip from the pad and headed back to the cook’s station. “Orders up!”

“Hey, sweetheart? Could I get a refill on my water?”

You froze for just an instant. That voice! It sounded like what velvet feels like. 

You turned and faced the Tribal Chief. “Already? I’m sorry, I should have checked to see if you needed a refill, you shouldn’t have come all the way to the drink station.”

“Don’t worry about it. I wanted to. So I could talk to you for a minute.”

You smiled and felt your face flush once again. “Talk? What about?” You asked, taking his glass and adding some ice to it.

“I don’t normally get so blunt so fast, but I’m going to be leaving in the morning. And I wanted to see if you’d like to… hang out when you get off work?”

There was no mistaking his meaning, and you should have been insulted.

Should have been.

You poured his water as you thought. Long and hard.

“What did you have in mind?”

“Maybe you could show me around New York City a little bit. Then we could go back to my hotel room, and see where things lead.”

You thought some more. 

Why not? You wondered. I’ve been saving myself for no one in particular. I have waited (your age) years. And where has it gotten me? And here comes a perfectly handsome–gorgeous man who wants to share it with me. How can I say no?

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yes. It… It sounds like just what I need.”

He smiled. “Good. Me too. I’m Roman by the way. Roman Reigns.”

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Nice to meet you, Y/N. What time do you get off work?”

“In about forty-five minutes.”

“I’ll be here.”

You smiled and handed him his glass of water, then said, “I’ll check on y’all’s food, and get it out as soon as it is ready.”

“Thanks, sweetheart.” He replied with a wink, and headed back to his table.

}i{}i{}i{}i{}i{

Forty minutes went by quite quickly, and with every minute on the clock that ticked by, you became more nervous. 

Am I really doing this? Can I do this?

You heard the bell clang above the door again and you looked up, because it was close to closing time. The only customer left was Roman. His friends—or family?—had already gotten in their cars and left. Obviously, they knew that Roman had big plans with the waitress that evening. You flushed at the thought. Then your eyes fell on the customer that had entered the cafe.

Brad.

What does he want?

He spotted you and walked right up to you with a big smile on his face. “Hi, Y/N. Can we talk?”

You gave a slight shake of your head. “I have to finish closing up with Gary, and then I… I have plans.”

His smile faltered and he looked less friendly. His green eyes darkened. “We really need to talk.”

“I don’t think we do,” you replied. “We broke up–you dumped me. I wasn’t enough for you to wait on, so I am moving on.”

“I don’t want us to break up.”

“It’s a little late for that,” you said quietly, as you picked up a rag and began wiping down tables and booths. He followed you and practically whined about what a mistake he’d made.

“I don’t really care, Brad.” You picked up a creamer shaker and checked to see if it needed filling. Satisfied that it was full enough you set it back down. “Listen, you proved your true colors to me. It has made you unattractive in my sight. I no longer want to date you.”

Brad’s hand shot out and grabbed your arm. Painfully so. “No, you listen, you little tease–” You cried out and tried to free your arm. To no avail.

Instantly, you saw a blur of movement from your peripheral vision and turned to see Roman heading for you, his eyes on the hand that Brad used to hold you in place.

“Let her go.”

“Who are you,” Brad demanded, looking up at the broad-shouldered, six-foot-four Samoan.

“You’re hurting her,” Roman replied, ignoring Brad’s question. “Let her go. Now. This is your only warning, bud.”

“And if I don’t?”

It happened so fast, you didn’t even have time to blink.

Roman had Brad in a serious headlock, choking off his air. Instantly, your ex-boyfriend released your arm and began struggling against the larger man. 

“Are you going to leave her alone?”

“Sure, man. Whatever!”

“Not good enough.” Roman dragged Brad to the door, opened it and flung him outside. “Stay away from her. Do not come around here ever again.”

With that, Roman shut the cafe door and locked the dead bolt.

“Are you okay,” he asked, turning toward you.

You nodded, rubbing your now sore arm. “Y-yeah. Thank you so much. Are you some kind of martial artist or something?”

Roman chuckled and you found that you loved the sound. 

“No, I’m a professional wrestler.”

You nodded, “Somehow, I can see that,” you said with an impish grin.

The next little while was spent sweeping up the floor while Roman turned the chairs upside down on the tables for you, which you thought was sweet of him to do. 

Finally, when everything was finished and Gary asked if you were okay to leave with Roman, you nodded at the cook, and he left out the back door.

“I guess we’d better get going,” you said, pulling out your keys to lock up with. “The night isn’t very young.”

A look of hunger crossed Roman’s face, and you had a feeling it had nothing to do with food. He nodded, and followed you to the door, unlocking the deadbolt and holding it open for you. 

You liked that. Never really had you come across a gentleman before. And to look the way Roman did, it was a nice surprise.

You both stepped out into the crisp Fall night air, and locked the door behind you, knowing that Gary had taken care of locking the back door.

You turned to Roman, “So, what would you like to see first?”

Another ravenous look crossed his eyes, and he just stared at you for a moment, then gave a slow lick of his lips. “I know what I want to see first, but I’m actually saving that for last,” he said, gazing at you intently.

Your body nearly shuddered at his words as well as his actions. That tongue… 

“Okay… So, what do you want to see second?” you giggled.

“Believe it or not, I’d like to see the Statue of Liberty. I heard you can take a ferry from Battery Park, is that true?”

You nodded, “Y-yeah. Statue City Cruises.” Roman wasted no time in taking your hand and leading you to his car.

Am I really going to ride with a stranger? You wondered of yourself. So much could happen. Am I nuts or what? When I decide to live it up, I guess I go big or go home-

Roman interrupted your thoughts as you neared the car. “Are you okay to ride with me,” he asked, seemingly reading your mind. “I won’t hurt you, I swear. If you want, you can take a pic of my driver’s license and send it to a friend so you have a record of who you are with.”

“Okay, yes I’d like that.”

So, Roman dug his wallet out of his pocket and passed his license over to you. You couldn’t help inspecting it before you snapped a pic of it. 

Roman Reigns.

Birthdate: May 25, of 1985.

Address–you skimmed over this detail and looked at the city and state–Tampa, Florida.

Quickly, you then snapped a photo of the license, and texted it to your best friends with a quick note.

You started to pocket your phone after handing Roman his license back, when the phone almost frantically alerted you to a text. Rolling your eyes, you smiled and checked the message.

Hayley ~ You’re finally gonna get it on??

You ~ I think so. Leave it alone for now. I’m busy. Details later. 😈

Amy~ I bet you are “busy” by the looks of that hunk! 😏 So HOT!! 🥵 Have fun. We’ll talk about it later.

Chuckling, you pocketed your phone and looked up to see the quizzical look on Roman’s face.

“My best friends. They’re thrilled that I’m…” You stopped yourself from saying ‘going on a date’, and opted for “actually getting out and doing something. I’m normally a homebody.” You planned to tell Roman you were a virgin. You really did. Just not right at this moment.

“Oh yeah,” Roman clarified. “I’m usually a homebody too.” He opened the passenger door to his car and helped you in before fastening your seatbelt around you. Looking at him strangely, he shrugged. “I happen to be an alpha male. I take care of my women.” His base-pitched voice rumbled softly in your ear and his warm breath brushed across your neck like a lover’s caress.

“I like that,” you replied. “It’s sweet of you.”

“Nothing about me is sweet,” he chuckled, running his finger across your jawbone and letting it linger at your lips. “If you only knew…what I’m thinking about doing to you later, you’d not call me ‘sweet’.”

“And what exactly are you planning to do to me?”

The words were out before you could stop them—a challenge.

“Oh, baby girl…” Roman’s voice vibrated in his chest and his dark eyes bore into yours. “Lots of things.”

Your breathing hitched in your chest. The thought of it. All of it. With Roman. A man like Roman… was more than you could imagine.

You nodded, and with that little nod, Roman leaned forward and captured your lips with his. Your eyes fluttered shut and you gasped against his mouth. He swallowed the soft sound and urged your lips apart to deepen the kiss. You opened for him immediately, and he slipped his tongue inside your mouth, tasting every inch of you.

You moaned. It was as if he’d done exactly what you needed when you needed it. But only for a moment. An itch that was yet to be scratched began to burn within you. One of his hands held you by the throat, while the other began to roam over your body in the car seat. You moaned again, this time with a bit more fervor. “Easy girl,” He mumbled against your lips. “Easy. Much more of that and we’ll be naked in a flash. While a hotel room isn’t the most romantic place on earth, I sure don’t want to do this in an empty cafe parking lot.”

You chuckled, and nodded, “Me either.”

He made sure your arms and legs were fully inside before slamming the door shut and walking to the driver’s side of the vehicle. Within seconds, he was inside the car and starting it up. He punched in Battery Park to his GPS and followed the instructions to drive to the famous park.

“What do you say we get to know each other a little on the drive over?” Roman suggested, pulling onto the street.

“Sounds good,” You replied. “What do you want to know?”

“How old are you?”

“I’m (your age) years old. You?”

“I’m forty. What do you do for fun?”

“Besides letting myself be wooed by handsome wrestlers?”

He laughed, but kept his eyes on the road. “Yeah. Besides that.”

“I hang out with my best friends a lot. And I hang out online too. I’m an internet junkie. I love to blog, watch Youtube videos, and I write for fun.”

“Oh, really? What do you write about?” “All kinds of things. Things I’ve never gotten to do, I imagine them and put them into story form.” You tilted your head to the side and looked at him, “So, what do you do in your free time?”

“I workout a lot. Read. Practice for upcoming shows. That kind of thing. I try to sightsee as my job lets me travel all over the world.” 

“That’s amazing! So you’ve never seen the Statue of Liberty?”

“I have. But not like this, on a ferry with a beautiful woman on my arm.”

You flushed and looked down at your folded hands. “I’ve only lived here for about four months with my besties, and I’ve not yet had the opportunity to see it. So this will be a first for me.”

Among other firsts, you silently added to yourself.

“Well, I’m glad I get to be the one to share it with you.”

“I’m glad you are too.” You swallowed hard, wondering why you were suddenly feeling emotional, and then changed the subject. “So, I probably should have asked this earlier than now, but, you are single, right?”

He chuckled, and signaled for a right turn. “Yes. I’ve been divorced for a few months and am just enjoying the singledom.”

You nodded. “I’m single too. For about a week so far,” you chuckled as well. “The guy you put in a chokehold at the cafe… he’s my ex.” “I thought it was something like that,” Roman said, checking over his shoulder before merging into the chaotic traffic. “If you don’t mind my asking, why did you guys break up?”

You puffed out a slow sigh, “Long story short…. I wouldn’t sleep with him. And he couldn’t handle it.”

“Any reason why? Why you didn’t want to sleep with him, I mean?”

“He just… I… I knew the relationship wasn’t going anywhere, so I didn’t want to.”

“That’s good enough reason,” the large Samoan replied, making another turn.

Before he could ask another question of a sexual nature, you changed the subject again. “So, what kind of sights do you want to see?”

“To be honest, I’ve seen most everything there is to see of New York City and Manhattan. But I’d like to spend some time with you and get to know you a bit. My only thing is, I need you to understand that this isn’t the beginning of a relationship, Y/N. I’m single and enjoying it. We’ll have one amazing night together, and that’ll be that.”

That stung. But to cover up your disappointment, you laughed. “That’s perfect. And that’s all I want too. I’m too busy for a relationship anyway, really. That’s partly why my relationship with Brad failed as well. I was too busy for his liking.”

Where the lies came from that were tumbling from your lips, you had no idea. But you were thankful for them. They covered your disappointment very well, and you were quite convincing, because Roman smiled. “Good. We’re on the same page then.”

About that time, he pulled onto a street near Battery Park and parallel parked with ease into a parking space. He killed the engine, and signaled for you to wait for him to come around to your side of the vehicle. Then he was helping you out of the seat and making sure you didn’t stumble. He took your hand wordlessly, almost as if he’d done it many times, and led you to the ticket master of Statue City Cruises.

“Two tickets, please,” Roman said, an authority in his tone.

“Yes, sir,” replied the older man working the ticket booth. He printed out two tickets, and accepted the money for them before handing the passes over. “The ferry leaves in ten minutes, so you should probably start boarding.”

With a nod, Roman took your hand again, and led you to the ferry where you both presented your tickets and boarded. 

Within minutes, the ferry was leaving to take its trip around Liberty Island. You both watched as the Statue of Liberty became larger and larger. 

“Oh, my gosh,” you gasped. “It’s so beautiful!”

It was pitch dark outside, but the statue was lit up perfectly. It was quite breathtaking, actually. The closer you got the more emotional you felt. Why, you didn’t know.

A tear spilled down your cheek as you gazed at the statue. You turned to look at Roman with a teary smile on your face. “I don’t know why I’m crying, really.”

Roman smiled back at you and brought your hand to his lips, brushing them over the knuckles in a soft kiss. “Beauty can make you react that way. And she certainly is a beautiful landmark.”

You nodded as the ferry began to turn around and go back the way it had come. You got another good look at the statue as the tour boat again sailed past it. 

“Okay, so what should we do next?” Roman asked, when you were well on your way back to Battery Park.

“Well, if it was still daylight, I’d say take a stroll through Central Park, but I don’t think that would be very safe at night.”

Roman clicked his tongue, “Yeah, it probably wouldn’t. How about we go hit Luna Park in Coney Island?”

“That’s in Brooklyn. Are you sure you want to do that,” you asked, wanting to be considerate of his time. You had the distinct feeling that since you’d mentioned not doing much sightseeing that he’d suddenly made this outing all about you. And you felt badly for it.

“Of course, if you would like to go on some rides, I’d be happy to.”

“I’d love to. But be warned… I’m a chicken. I don't ride anything that’s super crazy.”

Roman laughed, “That’s fine. We’ll only ride what you’re comfortable with.”

A half hour later, you were strolling through the amusement park, holding hands as if you were an old couple. But somehow you knew once you got back to Roman’s hotel room, his gentlemanly side would disappear. And you couldn’t help but look forward to it. Something told you he was a menace in the bedroom. 

“What are you thinking about?” He asked, running his thumb lazily over the back of your hand.

“Later,” you answered honestly. Flushing slightly, you gazed up at him. “I’m nervous–but excited.”

“No need to be nervous, baby girl.”

Oh, yes there is, you thought to yourself.

“We’ll move at your pace. At first.”

You gulped at those last words. 

“Come on, let’s ride the Coney Clipper.”

“The big, swinging ship, right?”

He nodded, “Yep.” He began leading you across the walkway to it. “It’s not scary, and it’s really fun.”

Within minutes, you were installed in a seat next to Roman, and you waited patiently as the ship began to slowly swing one direction, then the other. 

“Hang on tight, it goes faster pretty soon.”

You gripped the metal of the railing that caged you into the seat, and closed your eyes tightly.

“No, no, open your eyes,” Roman laughed. “That’s all the fun!”

Nervously, you opened your eyes, and watched as the ground sailed further and further away from you, and then you seemed to freeze in midair for a long moment, before the ship came flying back down to earth and you swung in the other direction.

“I love it,” you gasped.

“I thought you might,” he said, taking your hand in his. “Trust me?”

You looked at him. You did trust him. How, or why, you didn’t know. But you trusted him. “Yes.”

He seemed to stare back at you for a moment, scanning your face with his gaze. An expression you couldn’t read flitted across his face and then he spoke softly, “Let go of the bar. Raise your hands above your head as we freeze in the air for a sec.”

As you went backward, you loosened your grip on the bar and finally released it altogether.

“OhmygoshOhmygoshOhmygosh!” You screamed in glee as you went higher and higher into the air.

Roman laughed, and took hold of one of your hands above your head and squeezed it tightly.  

You got flung backward as the ship swung in the other direction.

“Hang on to my hand,” Roman said, a big smile on his face. 

You clung to his hand for the remainder of the ride which ended much sooner than you wanted. You were having the time of your life.

“What do you want to ride next?” He asked, as you walked away from the Coney Clipper.

“After that? Anything!” You exclaimed. “That was so much fun!”

He began leading you to a roller coaster called the Cyclone. “You want to try a roller coaster? It’s not very scary. Just a bunch of ups and downs. No loop de loops. I promise.”

Still on a high from the Coney Clipper, you smiled. “Sure! Why not?”

You went ahead of him and began eagerly heading for the ride. You turned and saw Roman just watching you. “Come on, Roman! Let’s get a good seat!”

He walked up to you and didn’t hesitate in brushing his hand down your cheekbone. “I love the sound of you saying my name.” He leaned down and kissed you softly. 

You flushed for what seemed like the millionth time. 

Roman gazed at you for a moment. “Woman… You’re gonna be the death of me, I just know it.” Another brush of his lips across yours and then he took your hand and led you the rest of the way to the roller coaster.

“I’ve never ridden a coaster before,” you suddenly said, softly. You looked over at Roman and smiled nervously. “What have I gotten myself into?”

It was a loaded question. And you both knew it.

“More than you can handle, I’m afraid.”

You giggled, “I certainly hope so.”

The sexual tension between you seemed to grow thicker and thicker as the night went on.

“Let’s go back to my hotel after this ride, yeah?”

You looked at his handsome face, and saw that his eyes had gone blacker than pitch. He was as hungry for you as you were for him.

Wordlessly, you nodded, reached up and kissed him.

And then the roller coaster ride began.

It started out by going around a curve, and then chugged slowly uphill and zoomed downward. After that, it was literally a series of ups and downs as Roman had said.  The ride seemed to be over in a matter of seconds, and you were grateful. You were eager to get back to Roman’s hotel room.

The drive back to New York City was driven in record time. You were amazed that Roman didn’t get pulled over, and wrote a ticket. But he didn’t. He drove into the hotel’s parking garage in no time and was pulling into a space.

Everything went by in a whirl. Roman led you to the elevator and punched the button for the fifth floor. Once the lift had brought you to the designated floor, Roman took your hand again and began pulling you down the hallway to his room.

Within seconds, he had his room’s door open and was showing you inside. The room was surprisingly luxurious and nice. The bed, huge. 

You looked over at Roman and ran your slender hand over your hair. “Would you mind if I took a shower? I feel so icky at being in the cafe all day.”

“Of course. Help yourself,” he smiled. “Just don’t take too long,” he added with a wink. 

You giggled and nodded before heading into the bathroom. You wasted no time in stripping down and getting under the hot water of the shower. Quickly, you shampooed your hair and cleaned yourself up so you’d be presentable to Roman. Within minutes, you were out of the shower and drying off on a huge towel and wrapping it around you, tucking the end of the towel in between your breasts.

Suddenly nervous, you stepped out of the bathroom and instantly found Roman lying on the king-sized bed, wearing only a pair of boxer shorts.

He heard you step into the room, and rose up on the bed. 

“Wow,” he said, looking you up and down. The towel didn’t cover much so he was getting a much wanted dose of leg. “You look beautiful just wearing a towel.”

You gazed at him. He’d taken his black hair down from its bun, and it flowed down around his broad shoulders. His stomach muscles rippled as he sat up on the bed. He was, in a word, ripped. He looked like a romance novel cover model.

“You’re gorgeous,” You said, without thinking. Then you inwardly cringed at how pathetic you sounded.

Roman smiled, “Thank you. You are quite stunning if I do say so myself.”

He raised his hand and motioned for you to come to him, “Come here, sweetheart.”

You felt your face burn as you made your way over to him. No sooner than you reached him, he was hooking his large hands underneath your armpits and lifting you onto his lap. You straddled him and your face flushed even further.

“Don’t get shy on me now, baby girl.”

You smiled and avoided his eyes. “I should probably tell you something before we… Before we…”

“Have sex?”

You nodded, “Y-yeah. I… I’ve never done this before.”

“What? A one night stand,” Roman asked.

You shook your head. “No. I’ve never done any of this.”

His eyebrows raised on his forehead. “You’ve never had sex? You’re a virgin?”

You nodded again, “Yes, I’m a virgin.”

“And you want to go through with this?”

“Y-yes. I think I do.”

Roman turned your face up to make you look him in the eye. “Sweetheart, can you look at me when you say that?”

So, taking a deep breath, and meeting his eyes, you said, “I want you,” in a whisper.

With that, his lips crashed against yours and he plundered your mouth with his tongue.

“Mmm,” you moaned into his mouth and grasped at his shoulders as his large hands raised up and cupped your face.  He nudged you back onto the bed underneath him and kissed you senseless. Your legs hugged his sculpted waist and you mewled into his mouth again, frantic for every bit of sensation he was giving you.

His hand slid down the length of your body and hitched your leg up around his waist even tighter.

“I’ll try not to hurt you, being your first time. But I can’t promise it won’t hurt anyway.”

You gulped hard. You’d not contemplated pain. What Roman was making you feel right now was anything but discomfort. 

“Tell me I’m not a jerk for doing this,” he groaned into the curve of your neck. “I want you so bad.”

“You’re not a jerk,” you cried softly, arching into his touch. His hands were wandering all over your body. But suddenly, you were gasping. Fighting for air. One of your famous panic attacks.

“Sweetheart? Baby girl?”

“I.. I can’t…”

You suddenly had the feeling you were making a huge mistake. You were already halfway in love with this man–as crazy as it sounded, even to you. And yet here you were, about to sleep with him and then say goodbye forever? But you were going to have to say goodbye forever regardless. 

Why, oh, why did Roman Reigns have to come into my life?

“It’s okay,” Roman said immediately, tucking you against his body. “We don’t have to do this.”

“I’m s-sorry…”

“Don’t be sorry,” he hugged you close. “I’m sorry for pressuring you.”

“I really did want this,” you said on a sob. “I promise.”

“I know. And I did too. I think it would have been very special. A night I’d never forget.”

“M-me too.”

“You’ve given me a night I’ll never forget, anyway.”

“Ditto.” You sniffled. 

Roman chuckled, “Ditto, huh?”

You nodded, and snuggled into him. “Yes. You’ve given me… more than you’ll ever know.”

Roman looked as if he wanted to object to your words. But he didn’t. Instead he said, “Well, I’m glad, if I did.”

“I’ll go now,” you said, starting to rise up off Roman, and preparing to get dressed.

“What? No. Don’t leave,” Roman said, tugging you back across him. “Stay. I’ll hold you while you sleep.”

“But I have to be at work for the morning shift. And you, don’t you have, like, a flight or something to catch?”

“Yeah I do. But I can make us a wakeup call for five or six if you want. Then I can drive you home.” He watched as you thought it over. “Please. I’d like to know that you get home safely.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. Let me get a shirt for you to sleep in.”

A few minutes later, you were climbing back into bed with Roman, wearing one of his t-shirts for a sleep shirt. His arms closed around you and you were asleep before you knew it.

}i{}i{}i{}i{}i{

The next morning, you woke up about a half hour before your wakeup call. You shifted slightly in Roman’s arms, and gazed up at him.

He was beautiful. Even when he slept. You reached up and coiled a lock of his hair around your finger.

“I’ll miss you,” you whispered softly, so he wouldn’t hear in his sleep. A tear spilled down your cheek at the thought of never seeing him again. But he’d made it clear last night. This wasn’t going anywhere. He would leave and never think of you again. You stifled a sob and tried not to jolt as the phone rang for your wakeup call.

Roman woke up and quickly picked up the hotel room’s phone, “Hello?” He nodded once and thanked the person on the other end of the line and hung up. 

“Well, baby girl. It’s time to check out.”

“I know.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. Thank you for last night, Roman. Thank you so much. I needed it. It’s been so long since I’ve felt a connection with the opposite sex.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, “And thank you too, sweetheart. I needed last night as well. It was fun.”

You nodded, “It was.” And then you stood to your feet, headed for the bathroom to put on your work uniform from the night before. 

Within a half hour, you and Roman were heading down to his car and driving toward your condo in the city. The short drive was done in a matter of twenty minutes, and when Roman pulled into a parking space nearest your condo, he proceeded to get out of the large SUV and help you out of the passenger’s seat.

“Thank you,” you whispered, taking his hand and stepping down from the large vehicle. 

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

You both walked hand in hand to your condo you shared with your best friends Amy and Hayley. Once you passed by the other condos and reached your door, you turned to face him. “So…”

“So…”

“I guess, this is it, huh?”

“I’m not relationship material, sweetheart. Not right now anyway.”

You nodded, “I know that. You’ve made yourself clear, Roman. I promise to not cramp your style and latch onto you crying like a little girl.”

“Whoa. What’s the anger for?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I’m just angry at the situation. I finally met someone who I connected with and I screwed up by not sleeping with him, and now I have to face the consequences of not seeing you again.”

“Hey, you didn’t screw anything up,” Roman said, pulling you into his arms.

You pulled away, “Please, don’t make this harder than it already is. I am not cut out for one night stands, and I shouldn’t have said I was. I’m sorry.”

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. It’s completely fine, Y/N.”

“I need to go, and get ready for work.”

“How about I leave you my number and you can call me anytime you want?”

“Sure.”

Roman quickly took a store receipt from his pocket and scrawled his phone number across the back of it, and handed it to you.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart. I hope to hear from you.” 

You nodded, having no intention of calling him, and looking like a needy teenager.

“Well, I better get going. I have a flight to catch in a couple of hours.” “Okay. It was nice…meeting you, knowing you… I mean…”

“It’s okay, sweetheart. It was nice. Let’s leave it at that, yeah?”

You nodded again, and tried not to tear up when he leaned down to your face and kissed your cheek. 

“Take care of yourself.”

“You too.”

With that, he turned and left you. Headed back toward his car. And you turned and went inside to see your best friends hanging by the door.

“So? How was it?” Hayley asked. “Is he going to see you again,” inquired Amy. You promptly burst into tears and explained the whole situation to your sisters.

By the time you were through, the other two women were seething. “How dare he leave you high and dry!”

“How could he do something so cold??”

“Y’all he didn’t promise me anything. Just one night together. That was it. And he kept his end of the deal.”

“Yeah, well,” Hayley huffed. “He is selfish.”

“Maybe so, but I didn’t have to agree to the one night, so that’s on me.”

You rose from the sofa, and headed for your bedroom to get ready for work. “I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

You shut the door to your bedroom, and pulled another work uniform out of your closet and began putting it on. 

“It’s not anyone’s fault,” you told yourself as you undressed from your previous day’s work outfit and began pulling on the fresh one. “He can’t help if he doesn’t want a relationship. And I can’t help that I met “Mr. Right at the Wrong Time”. 

“You needed to dive into work. That would help get your mind off him. Yes, just dive right back into work and forget that Roman Reigns ever existed.”

As if.

}i{}i{}i{}i{}i{

Roman placed his carry-on bag into the overhead compartment above his seat and sat down next to his twin cousins, Jimmy and Jey.

“What’s good, Uce?” Jey asked, looking over at his older cousin.

“Not much, right now,” Roman replied, “Not much.”

His mind was on the beautiful woman he’d spent the entire night with. Everything about her stood out. She was like a bright little light that he’d never forget. Her eyes, her hair, her lips–her kisses… Nothing would he forget. 

“What’s wrong?”

Roman was jarred out of his thoughts by his cousin’s inquiry. “Huh?”

“Something’s wrong. You’re different. Is it the woman from last night? She get a little too clingy?”

“No.” 

It’s not that at all, Roman thought. She wasn’t too clingy. By the time he dropped her off at her condo that morning, she hadn’t been clingy enough. 

He needed to get back to work. That’d help him forget about her. Just have a few good fights, and she’d be out of his system for good.

As if.

If you want on the tag list just ask! 😃

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The Proposition

Part 4:

You heard Roman speaking to you and your head turned toward his voice. Your eyes opened slightly and you winced in pain. But you were able to make out his beautiful form sitting in a chair next to your hospital bed.

“You came for me,” you whispered softly, weakly. A tired smile graced your lips.

“Of course I did, sweetheart. I should have come for you long ago. This would have never happened.” His hand reached up to cup the uninjured side of your face. “I’m so sorry this happened to you. I’m so sorry that I-”

“You’re really here,” you managed to say, cutting him off. You reached up and touched the hand that caressed your face. “You’re real.”

“You’re not dreaming, baby. I promise.”

“I thought I was going to die–when he had me. I didn’t think anyone would get to me in time, let alone you. I figured you were somewhere doing a show.”

“I’d just finished up at the Garden,” Roman told you, taking your hand in his, running his thumb over the back of it. “I went to your condo. Hayley was hysterical because you and Amy were missing.”

“Are they okay now? Amy? Was she hurt?”

“She got hit but she’s okay,” Roman replied. “And yes, they are both safe and okay. Brad’s dead–I killed him. He’ll never hurt any of you again.” He swallowed hard, and spoke softly. “Amy and Hayley are out in the hallway. Wanna see them?”

You nodded, and then grimaced at the pain that invaded your shoulder.

“Easy, baby. I’ll go get them.” He stood to his feet, and walked over to the door. “Ladies?” He called. “She’s awake and wants to see you.”

A second later, Amy and Hayley rushed into the room and joined you at your bed. “Oh, my God, Y/N, you scared us so badly!” Hayley said.

“I’m sorry that you got dragged into my mess, girls,” You said tiredly. “I never intended for any of this to happen.”

“We know. And it wasn’t your fault,” Amy said softly. “It was all Brad. He was a sicko.”

You nodded, “He was. I’m just glad it’s over and that we’re all safe now.”

You talked with the girls and Roman a little longer and then a nurse came in and said it was time to let you rest. You tried to get the nurse to let them stay a little longer, but she simply and firmly assured you they could see you again later in the morning.

It didn’t take long for you to fall back to sleep.

}i{}i{}i{}i{}i{

The next few days went by in a flash and you were being discharged from the hospital. The doctor had said you’d probably stay for a week, but she wound up saying you were doing so well, that she didn’t see any need in making you stay the full week, and discharged you after five days.

Roman drove you to your condo. He’d taken some time off from wrestling, and stayed with you the whole time you were in the hospital. He finally put his foot down with the nurses when they tried to get him to leave so you could rest, and said there was no way in the world he was leaving you again. 

“I left her once, and something very bad happened to her. I’m not making that mistake again,” he’d said.

The head nurse had discussed it with the doctor and Roman got the okay that it was fine to stay with Y/N throughout her hospital stay.

Now, as Roman pulled into a parking space at your condo, you felt a surge of butterflies in your stomach. 

You were home.

And your two best friends in the world were waiting for you to arrive.

You were being escorted by the man you loved.

Life couldn’t get any better than this.

“Ready to get inside,” Roman asked, after opening your door.

“Yes, more than,” you laughed softly, and moved to step down from the SUV. 

“Nuh-uh,” Roman admonished you and proceeded to lift you up in a bridal carry.

“Roman! I’m fully capable of walking.”

“I know that. But you’re crazy if after all you’ve been through, you think I’m going to let you walk all the way from here to your condo.”

Smiling softly, you cupped his handsome face in your hand and kissed him, relishing in the feel of his soft beard underneath your fingertips.

You wanted to tell him you loved him. You remembered saying it to him when you felt as though you were dying, and you’d meant it. You loved him with your whole heart. And you remembered him saying it back to you. But you were afraid he’d only done it in the heat of the moment. And to try to give you some incentive to fight and live.

So you kept your silence. 

For now.

He reached your door, and you rang the doorbell, still in Roman’s arms. The door opened instantly and the girls were practically jumping up and down at seeing you in some place other than the hospital. 

“So glad you’re home,” the girls both exclaimed, wrapping their arms around you in a group hug. 

“I’m glad too,” you replied, hugging them in return. 

“We just want you to chill and relax. We have dinner covered, and we thought we could start a Walking Dead marathon to celebrate your homecoming, but only if you feel up to it.” Amy suggested.

You nodded, “I’ll probably fall asleep as soon as I eat and get on the sofa, but yeah, we can try that.”

You all ate dinner, and did begin a Walking Dead marathon, but you didn’t get far into the pilot episode before you were dozing off and your head fell against Roman’s shoulder.

“Maybe we should try this another time,” you chuckled softly, as you fought off a yawn. “Maybe after I’ve gotten used to being home and everything.”

Amy and Hayley agreed quickly.

“Of course,” Hayley said, “Why don’t y’all go on to bed and get some rest?”

“But the kitchen, I could help clean up,” you objected.

“Nope. We pretty much cleaned up as we went,” Amy told you. “We’ll finish up in there in no time.”

With that, Roman stood from the couch and lifted you up into his arms. “Let’s get you to bed. He carried you, while you giggled softly, into your bedroom and sat you on the bed. 

“Where do you keep your pajamas?”

“The dresser. Top drawer on the right.” 

He reached into said drawer and pulled out a large sleep shirt. “This okay?”

You nodded and reached for it, stood to go to the bathroom and change.

“Wait, I’ll help you change,” Roman insisted, beginning to pull your t-shirt over your head.

“Roman! Wait!”

But your shirt was already off and you instinctively placed your arm across your breasts to hide them from view. 

“I’ve already seen it, you know.” Roman said, as you began tugging at your sweatpants next.

“Seen what?”

“Your tattoo. The little “MTC” over your heart with the tribal circle around it. I assume it stands for My Tribal Chief. When did you get it done?”

Flabbergasted and embarrassed, you swallowed hard. “About a month before… before you came back.”

“I love it. So you know,” he said, getting your nightshirt ready to put on you. “You’re mine, so I like seeing my mark on you.”

Your heart skipped at hearing him call you his. He tugged your arms through the sleeves of the shirt, and you didn’t know what to say. Your face was crimson, you could feel it.

Once your arms were through the sleeves, he pulled the shirt over your head and settled the garment around you.

Then he was nudging you back onto the bed, kissing you softly. You laid back against the pillows and leaned into Roman as he laid down next to you.

“How will we make something between us work,” you asked suddenly. You were actually thinking out loud rather than actually asking Roman. “I mean, you live…. Where? And I live here.”

“I live in Tampa,” he said. “Florida.” He seemed to be deep in thought for a moment. “So, do you and Amy and Hayely have anything holding you here? Any lifelong dreams of being New Yorkers? Anything like that?”

You shook your head, “No, not really. We tried to find a place central to where we all lived so that we could move in together as roommates. New York City seemed random, but practical.”

“Would the girls be open to moving to Tampa? Would you?”

You froze. “Are you serious?”

“Yes,” Roman replied, kissing you again. “I want you near me.” His dark eyes met yours then. “I meant it when I told you I loved you. I don't know how in the world it  happened so fast, but I am not willing to lose you again. Move to Tampa. Move in with me.” He cursed softly then. “Marry me.”

You gazed into his face to read his logic. You didn’t want to rush into anything, but at the same time… you loved him. Why not?

“But, how do we know this will work? What if we’re moving too fast?”

“You love me? Trust me?”

You nodded immediately, “Yes. You know I do.”

“Then marry me. I don’t want something to happen to you or me, and we not even have any married time together. Life is too short, baby.”

You scanned his handsome face, smiled and nodded. “Yes.”

He grinned from ear to ear, “You’ve just made me the happiest man alive.”

“And you’ve just made me the happiest woman alive,” you replied, caressing his face in your hand. “It’s like my world was in black and white till you came along.”

Roman smiled again and leaned down, kissing you deeply. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. When are we getting married?”

“As soon as possible,” Roman answered, pulling you closer against him.

“I don’t care about a big wedding,” you said, stifling a yawn. “Getting married at the courthouse is fine with me.”

“We’ll talk about that tomorrow,” Roman said, “Now get some sleep. You need it.”

You settled against him then and fell fast asleep in his arms. 

}i{}i{}i{}i{}i{

Two Weeks Later…

“You may kiss your bride.”

Time seemed to freeze as Roman leaned down and kissed you. The red Ula Fala he wore tickled against your collar bone as you kissed him in return. You brought your arms up about his neck and relished in the taste of him. 

He finally broke the kiss and smiled down at you. “Mrs. Reigns.”

The small,  intimate gathering around you applauded as the minister introduced you as the newly married couple, “Mr. and Mrs. Reigns”. 

Amy and Hayley, both your maids of honor, squealed and clapped as you both took hands and went back down the long aisle of the church. You both quickly walked back to the dressing rooms to get ready for the party that was to follow. When you re-emerged from the dressing room, you donned a shorter white dress that was easier to move around in. Roman came out then, and had merely removed his neck tie and gray suit blazer. He was left in a crisp white dress shirt and his Ula Fala with a pair of gray slacks. His black hair remained loose about his broad shoulders.

You joined hands again and headed for the limo outside so you wouldn’t be late for your reception. You both got in the elegant vehicle and Roman immediately reached up and hit a switch. The partition between you both and the drive slid up and you had privacy then.

“Come here,” he mumbled, pulling you against him. He kissed you then, slipping his tongue into your mouth and fully tasting you. “Can’t wait to get you home.”

You giggled, and playfully slugged his shoulder. “We have a party to get to. Behave.”

“Why?” You slugged him again, and then realized you were pulling into the venue.

“Because we’re here. Do you want your close friends and family watching us make love in the backseat of our limo?”

“No,” Roman admitted. “And I want it to be more special for you than in the backseat of a car.” He swallowed hard looking you in the eye. “So I guess we’d better make at least an appearance at our party, and then…” He wriggled his thick, dark eyebrows at her. “We can go home.”

You giggled, and kissed him. “I love you.”

“And I love you,” he replied, opening the door. “Let’s go party.”

The next few hours were full of dancing, drinking champagne and soft, stolen kisses on the dance floor. 

“Do you think we’ve been here long enough?” Roman finally asked, his arms tight around you.

“Roman! We’d be the first people to leave. How rude would that be?”

“It’s not rude. Let me make a little speech and we’ll be on our way.”

“Roman, no!”

Ignoring you, he took a microphone from the DJ’s table, and stepping onto the stage, he spoke into it. “Ladies and gentleman, can I have your attention for a moment. Cut the music for a sec, please.”

When the music quietened down, Roman spoke again. “Life is short. As we, personally, almost learned a couple weeks ago.” He took your hand and squeezed it. “So, my wife and I are going to go and celebrate our lives. But please, stay and enjoy the party!”

There were several cat calls and hoots from the attendees, as Roman led you off the stage and to the exit door in the venue. 

“Oh my gosh, Roman. I will never be able to face these people again! You just announced to them that we’ll be-”

You were silenced as Roman tugged you up against him and kissed you deeply–a kiss full of promise of what was to come.

“They understand, sweetheart. We’re in love, obviously. And most of them are all married. They totally understand that we want some alone time.”

You nodded, though you were still flushed, you could feel it in your face. “Okay.”

You allowed him to lead you to the limo and you both climbed in.

“We’re heading home,” Roman informed the driver. “And there is an extra thousand dollars in your tip if you can get us there, safely, in under twenty minutes.”

“Roman!” You hissed. “Do you have to be so obvious?”

He chuckled, and kissed you again. “We just got married. Like they don’t know what we’ll be doing anyway.”

You facepalmed and shook your head. 

The limo driver accepted the challenge with a smirk on his face and began pulling out onto the street. He had the drive made in eighteen and a half minutes.

“This isn’t my first rodeo,” he said, when Roman looked impressed.

Roman quickly wrote out a check for the man’s tip and then hurried out of the limo, pulling you with him.

“Roman, slow down!”

Suddenly you were lifted, caveman style, over his shoulder and were being carried to the front door of his home.

Too full of a fit of  giggles were you, to protest. Roman was instantly turning the key in his lock, and carrying you inside. He locked the door back, and proceeded to carry you up the stairs, past the landing, and straight to the master bedroom. 

He immediately closed the gap between your faces, and kissed you. Hard.

His mouth never tore from yours as he carried you back toward the large bed, laid you across it. His large hands moved upward and began unzipping your dress

You broke the kiss long enough to gently remove his Ula Fala, and lay it on on the night table, then you unbuttoned his dress shirt and whipped it off him. 

You both had each other undressed in seconds and then his mouth was on yours again, his tongue slipping past your lips. You moaned into his mouth as his hands began to wander over your body.

You wanted this so badly. And none other than Roman Reigns was the perfect man for the job.

He was gorgeous with his long, silky black hair, and intense smoldering gaze. He was kind, and oh, did he know how to play a woman’s body like a highly strung instrument. 

You gripped his hair in your hands as he continued coaxing little sounds from your throat. You closed your eyes as he pulled your body flush against his, relishing in everything he was making you feel…

THE END

Tagging:

@oreillystolemyheart @lookalivesunshine-x @southerngirl41 @claymoresofinfamy23 @beccalynns-world 

@Heerah34 @dersha89 @shortyiceheart @wwechristina87 @expert-texpert

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  @skyesthebomb @moxley99 @mandabrammer2021 @destinylewisbellblog @furrywombatpuppy

After the chaos of tonight, between the brons to La Knight causing a certain someone to lose his temper after weeks of stress since losing his precious gold that he worked so hard for.

The car ride back to the hotel is quiet, not a sound except the wind whistling through their hair. "Is anyone hungry" Jimmy finally breaks the silence, the female in the passenger seat looks at Jey for response but nothing, she sighs "we can order something when we get to the hotel" Jimmy hums "craving anything in particular?" he asks curiously "don't have a appetite if I'm being honest with you" she laughs softly as she looks at the building passing by. "pizza will do" Jimmy says as he scrolls through his phone, Alaula looks down as she feels her husband grab her hand, intertwining their fingers as he continues driving in silence a way of reinsurance, letting her know that she's not the one he's upset with. She plays with the rings on his fingers, she always liked how big hands his were while hers was small, but they fit together so well like a puzzle piece.

⋆˙⟡

Alaula sits at the counter top with a glass of wine in her hand as she listens her husband rant his head off about tonight, she watches him as he paces back and forth.

"Feels like everyone is out to get me" he mumbles to himself "dunno who to trust, who to believe" he runs his fingers through his hair

"Uce, I need you to believe me" Jimmy softly says sitting on the sofa "Shaun wasn't coming after you, you were pushed then he-"

Jey cuts him off "what are you on his damn side now huh?" his twin sighs "Josh will you listen" he snickers "I've listened enough, I'm fucking tired of everybody, man" he continues "I've been busting my goddamn ass for months just for these fuckers to come at me from all sides"

Alaula sighs "babe"

Though, he continues his ranting "Shaun's ass, punks dumb ass, the damn brons." He inhales sharply "why are the brons even after me? They should be minding their damn business"

Alaula tries again "babe!" she says a little louder

"Colby got the title so why's their focus on me huh"

She shouts "Joshua!" he finally stops talking and turns to her with his hands on his hips "What Alaula!" he snickers.

She farrows her eyebrows with a head tick "okay first of all, change your tone - lose the attitude with me right damn now" she laughs softly in annoyance "I done nothing to you, okay" she tucks some of her indigo colored hair behind her ear "secondly. Nobody is out to get you, Josh. You are overthinking, you have created something in your head to cause something to go wrong" she sighs "Shaun was out there trying to help you, like Jon just said - he got pushed into you"

He laughs "naw naw, so you're picking sides huh" Alaula throws her hands up in annoyance "so we're accusing everyone of shit they never said or did huh"

Jey rolls his eyes "ain't said it, probably thought it" he says brusquely, she laughs as she rubs her face before getting up from the counter.

"You know what Josh" she sighs "your brother was right" he looks at her with confused but upset eyes "about?" she looks him dead in the eyes "he was fucking right when he said earlier tonight that you're starting to sound like Roman, exactly fucking like him"

Jimmy stands up immediately with worried eyes.

Jey stares at his wife "what did you say," she crosses her arms against her chest as she stares up at him "you heard me"

Jimmy sighs "uh yeah that's my que to leave" he quickly but quietly says just before he gets up and immediately heads out of the hotel room without another word.

"Lemme" Jey laughs in-between words "lemme run this back, my wife taking my brother's side" she snaps back immediately "nobody's side" he sighs in annoyance as he walks up to her, towering over her, she watches the look in his eyes change dark, he looks at her from head to toe with a cocky smirk "you're just like them, nobody's listening"

She smacks her gums "you're the one not listening" he backs her up against the wall as his fingers wrap around her throat, his face close to hers "don't smack your gums at me" he hisses out, she bats her eyelashes at him "drop the attitude with me then" he chuckles "as your wife, I'm on your side" she looks at his lips then his eyes "but as a friend, I am here to say that you need to get out of that mindset that Leati has manipulated into you having"

The tall man scoffs "he did nothing" she nods humming "right right, so" she trails off "all those years of abusing you and manipulation did something to you that has you denying" she sighs "hate to say it, Josh" her fingers come up to trace his lips

"But you're doing the same thing he did to you to everyone else" he shakes his head disagreeing "you wouldn't have crashed out if your mind wasn't screwed up because of him after all these years" Jey sighs knowing she was right but he wasn't in the mood to let her know that, "not true" he growls as she pulls on his beard to bring him even closer "it's true" she whispers against his lips "you know I'm right" he scoffs as he lets go of her throat and picks her up quick before carrying her over and throwing her onto the bed.

She climbs up a little bit as she sits up watching him tear his shirt off before climbing over her, caging her as he stares at her with mixed emotions before sitting up and pulling her onto his lap, he rips her shirt off he sees her bottom lip curl into a pout "my favorite shirt" she whines out, he laughs "can get another one, you'll be fine" he says softly before connecting his lips with hers, she cups his cheeks with the palms of her hands as his roam the skin of the upper half of her body. He unclips her bra and throws it somewhere on the floor behind them before pulling her closer, body to body. The warmth feeling like some kind of enchanting power being casted through their every touch.

"Josh" the smaller female breathes out "need you so bad" she whines shyly, he laughs breathlessly "La'u Manamea" she whines at the tone of his voice, that nickname always sounding so pretty coming from his lips, sending shivers through her body as she feels herself get wetter.

"Don't think you deserve it, La'u Manamea" he whispers against her neck, she pulls on his hair "you know you want to, you've been so busy with work" she softly says as she tries to grind against his crotch but his fingers digging into her hips to stop her movements "you've been so busy, we haven't fucked in a while" she softly says, he hums in thought "damn we haven't huh" he chuckles darkly

"But I don't know, you're over there agreeing with my twin and shit"

She rolls her eyes pulling him up by the hair to face her, she grabs a fist full of his beard to bring him close to her face "you're making enemies because your cousin is feeding you lies and I'm just trying to save you from him" she snarls "I'm listening, you are not"

He laughs breathlessly in annoyance before reaching up to grab her by the throat and pushes her down into the mattress hovering over her "how about" she inhales sharply "fuck some sense into me" she smirks as she feels his fingers tingling around her throat "maybe you'll knock the sense so good into me, I'll side with you and your little crash out"

He laughs "you just want to get dicked" she nods "obviously" her free hand reaches down and grabs the budge in his pants causing him to let out the breath he was holding, she squeezes it "you know you want inside" she pouts innocently, he growls in frustration as he quickly pulls her pants off along with his.

He looks down with an eyebrow raise "you weren't wearing underwear, Alaula" she shrugs "they get in the way" he chuckles rolling his eyes before leaning up and pulling her by the hair till she's on her knees in front of him, he roughly grabs her and turns her around to push her face down into the mattress, pulling her waist up, he hovers over her, kissing her neck before making his way down her back as his hands roam her honey toned body, digging his nails in her skin with little squeezes before slithering down to her pussy, he sits back as he pulls her cheeks apart, he hums in approval "already so wet and we haven't done shit" his voice is so dark and raspy, he slowly begins to rub her clit before slipping two fingers inside of her, she clutches the sheets as she lets out a breath of air that she didn't realize she was holding.

He slowly begins thrusting inside her he listens to her sweets moans get louder. He kisses her back just before taking his free hand and tangling his fingers into her indigo colored hair and pulls her up with her back against his front side as he fingers deeper inside of her, her head falls back on his shoulder as she becomes breathless and into cloud nine just by his pretty fingers

"look at you, La'u Tausala" he whispers against her ear "you're just so pretty" he nibbles on her earrings "sounding so good, so wrecked just by my fingers."

No matter what, he's always going to praise her, tell her how good she is, how pretty she is, how much he loves her. He knows how weak it makes her, trapping her under his enchanting spell.

He pushes her back down as he fingers her deeper just before lowering down and slips his tongue inside of her, "oh god" she breathlessly whines out her eyes shoot open from the pleasure shooting through her body, eyebrows farrowed, back arched.

But as she looks to the left side, she notices the big mirror on the wall which gives her the view of her husband behind her. It's probably the second hottest thing she has witnessed and it does nothing but drive her to an orgasm. She gasps out so loud trying to breathe in-between moans as her body shakes and twitches.

Jey hums against her in annoyance as he pulls away from her, licking the taste of her off his lips, "cumming without my permission huh" he hisses out just before leaning up. "Need to teach you a lesson" he hums softly as she watches him align his dick to her before pushing in, she gasps so loudly as he stretches her open, "good girl, la'u tausala" he softly moans out "taking me so well, look at you" she smiles to herself because she is looking at herself getting fucked by her husband and it's just a gorgeous sight to look at.

She watches his hip movements, his dick slipping in and out of her but she loses her mind completely when she looks up at the Samoan man's face, his pretty face filled with pure lust and enjoyment, his brown curly hair sticking to his forehead, his lips parted as he quietly gasps for air "pretty pretty baby", his head falls back as he closes his eyes as he begins to thrust faster, nails digging into her hips "if- god if anything" she tries to speak in-between moans, his head snaps forward as he hears her pretty wrecked voice..

"Talk to me baby, what's up"

God there's the one damn line that manages to destroy her so good. "If anything, you look so fucking good yourself" she whines out "looking so fucking amazing while fucking me" he raises an eyebrow curious on what she's meaning then he realizes before looking to the left completely forgetting about the big mirror on the wall.

"Ohhh shit" he breathlessly chuckles just before he makes eye contact with her through the mirror, he growls at himself because she looks so weak and fucked out by him, "you like watching yourself get fucked huh" he hums "naughty girl" he moans out before reaching down to grab a fist full of her hair and pulling her back up against his chest.

He wraps his arm around her waist thrusting deeper inside of her, he positions the both of them to face the mirror as he continues thrusting harder inside of her. He kisses and sucks on her neck as he drinks in every little sound escaping her lips "told you huh" he whispers "you look so good taking my dick, don't you manamea~" she nods tiredly and breathlessly. He smirks at a sudden idea, he bites into her neck before pulling away, he wraps his arm around her, putting her into a headlock and flexes his bicep, he sees her smile.

"Look at you, baby" he snickers "pretty girl, La'u Manamea.." he moans out "doing so damn good, taking me so well" he squeezes his bicep causing her to lose her breath for a moment, she gulps for air "I'm so close again, please"

he hums in thought "I don't know, baby" he thrusts harder and faster inside of her "I don't think you learned anything tonight" she whines out "you were right, Joshua" he chuckles darkly "learned my lesson" she cries out in pleasure "that's right, princess" he breathlessly chuckles "good girl" he praises her "watch yourself cum all over me" he squeezes his bicep tight before pulling away and grabbing her hips to push himself deeper inside her, he pulls her hair "cum together" she moans out, nearly a breathless shout.

"Together" he moans out before biting and sinking his teeth into her neck , she gasps for air as her body shivers in pleasure "there you go, baby, good girl, so damn good" he continues praising her as she continues to cum all over him as he fills her up to the brim "feel so full" she gulps for air "did so good baby, proud of you" she smiles tiredly.

Jey slowly pulls out and gently lays her down before getting up grabbing a wash cloth, making sure to warm it up before coming back and gently cleans her off "pretty baby" he whispers before laying down beside her and pulling her into a gentle kiss

"I am sorry for getting mad at you" he sweetly says as he pushes her hair behind her ear "you were right about everything and I'm sorry for making you feel like that" she sighs "you've been so stressed about work, I wasn't there to help" she smiles as she rubs her thumb against his cheek

"you'll get your title back, I know you will" she reinsures him "you've been so hard on herself, you need to give yourself a break before you have another crash out and take out the wrong people" he nods

i never knew that i could be comfortable with silence until him. never knew that it was a thing one could learn to sit with, maybe even enjoy, until it became somewhat a natural part of our routine. not always. some days, he's more talkative than others. asks me questions about myself. shares certain things about himself. but, then there are days where no more than five to ten words are shared between us outside of whatever slips out of our mouths when we're intimate.

fucking. that's what my cousin, best friend, and roommate, roxy calls it. what i should call it. an accurate description but something that feels....wrong. no more wrong than this whole arrangement, but i digress.

a soft sigh escapes my mouth as i move my pencil over the pages, tracing the outline of the bare skeletons i'd sketched yesterday evening. i wasn't exactly sure what it was then, and i'm not sure i'm any closer to knowing now. but, that's always been a part of the beauty i find in art. i don't have to know where i'm going. it's not necessarily the knowledge of the destination that's important in as much as enjoying the process along the way that matters most.

a theme that seems to apply to more than just my art these days.

a louder sigh drags my attention from the sketchbook to the man i try not to think too much about if i don't have to. he's confusing. has been since the first time we met, which feels like forever ago, but has only been a couple weeks. roxy and my aunt egypt say it has something to do with him being older, but i'm not sure. possibly. regardless, i try not to think of that too much to. of what it means that i've more or less allowed myself to be used and objectified sexually by a man 16 years my senior. 24, and the summer sugar baby for a man freshly turned 40.

avoidance truly is my saving grace.

he doesn't look at me, doesn't lift his gaze from the laptop in front of him, screen partially reflecting off the the black rimmed glasses that sit perfectly on the bridge of his nose. his lips, full and soft, pulled into a sort of scowl. but, that's nothing new. in the little time i have known him, i've come to find that roman reigns is a man who lives only between the neighborhoods of irritated, borderline irritated, and post irritation. thought that last one is most preferred. he's easier, smiling, less tense and....big. his size is one thing, but it's less the stature and build of the man and more the energy he brings when he's upset.

i've witnessed and been privy to an angry roman reigns, something i'd prefer to avoid for the rest of this experience, if possible. he doesn't scare me, but he is scary, and it's an uncomfortable situation all around.

one i don't want to experience again.

ever.

"sola."

it's only when he says my name that i realize i'd stopped staring at some point and resumed drawing. his use of my nickname still something i haven't decided if i hate or like. similar to my feelings towards him.

biting down on my bottom lip, i look over my shoulder, mindful of my tone and volume. "yes?"

he doesn't waste any time. forever a prompt man. "come here."

such a simple directive shouldn't make my stomach coil or the moisture in the back of my throat dry. nor should it cause the grip on the pencil in my hand to tighten. visceral responses as such don't make a lot of sense, but he, this whole arrangement, and everything else, don't seem to make a lot of sense, either, so it tracks.

letting the pencil drop and rest against my sketchbook, i move from off my stomach, making sure to adjust my short gown as i stand from the bed. the fact that he doesn't even bother to look my way as i make my way over to him leaves me with mixed feelings.

especially when i'm standing directly in front of him, and he says nothing, just continues to type and focus on the screen like i'm not standing there, looking and feeling stupid.

a good minute stretches between us, filled with a silence i suddenly can't handle. "ye—"

"take off your panties."

it shouldn't. it shouldn't. it shouldn't make me still like it does, have my thighs clenching together the way they do. this whole thing has consisted of nothing but sex and most things sex related, so him initiating it at this point should be old news. and yet, every time, i feel that hint of anxiety build. a sort of panic. a nervousness.

except, it's for a bit of a different reason. mostly regarding why i can't follow through on his request.

"i....i....." he continues to type away, acting as if he can't feel or sense the trepidation that brews in the pit of my belly. "i'm not wearing any."

then, only then, do i earn his gaze. dark, sultry, hardened. my eyes never leave him, observe the way he immediately stops typing and sits back in the chair. broad, muscular shoulders squared, eyes narrowing, hand up and finger beckoning me closer.

i don't need to be told twice.

the minute i'm close enough, he tugs me between his thick spread legs. his hands moving under my short, skimpy gown, a purchase by him, eyes dropping to my exposed cunt. his big hand moves over the globe of my ass, squeezing. eyes closing, i can only make out the sound of his low hiss and something else.

a muttered statement in another language. he does that a lot. says what he knows i cannot understand. intentional. i'm sure.

my time for questions is a non-factor as he suddenly turns me around, so i'm facing the open layout of the villa, the wall of windows on the other side of the bedroom that provide a beautiful view of what i'll never in life again experience after this. after whatever this is concludes.

i'm half expecting him to rip my gown off entirely, but the sound of clothes shuffling, movement in the seat is all i'm met with followed by the tug of me onto his lap.

a quiet gasp slipping out at the feel of skin on skin, his hardened, warm member against the small of my back. the way my hands move to grip the edges of his desk as he lifts me up just enough to slide in, inch by inch, that length and girth stretching my walls, acclimating me to him, into my wet, welcomed, warmth.

more unmet expectations when instead of bending me over the desk, forcing the laptop to shut, i'm instead tugged back against his chest. naturally, my palms land against his forearm, secured around my stomach, keeping me close and near as he's settled inside me.

a heavy, shaky sigh. "rom—"

"sit," is the only command i receive. nothing else. no promise that it'll lead to more once he's completed his work or even the simple order to ride him. just a simple one word directive.

i want to protest, want to defy, want to gradually ease myself back and forth on him, to give us both what i know can only be enjoyable. but, i don't. i don't for reasons i don't entirely understand. the same way i don't understand him.

i'm not sure i ever will.

"how did you get into drawing?"

oh.

it's a talk day for him, clearly. another thing i feel unsure about. sometimes talking with him is nice. other days, it feels wrong. this is a business transaction. personal questions and anything of that nature should be off the table. when all is said and done, he will go on with his life, and i will go on with mine. what reason or need is there for anything beyond basic business formalities that weren't laid out in the iron-clad contract that i signed?

again....confusing.

"my mom. she's an art teacher." i could offer more, share stories of how some of my favorite memories are those warm, summer days spent in mexico, outside drawing or painting with my mother and abuela. a shared, love and passion amongst three generations. the funny recollections of all the times i tried to help my dad learn the basics of art. epic and complete disasters every time. hilarious moments that i'll always hold onto.

but, they're mine. and, while he might own my body for the duration of this contract, there are some things i won't allow. won't give him access to.

can't.

he says nothing, adjusting me as he moves one hand to the keyboard, continuing to type. a part of me wonders if he just assumes i'll look away and avoid contact with whatever he's working. i do, because i don't care, and because i have much more important things to worry about like the fact that he's so deep inside me, and i can't do anything about it.

damn.

"you didn't want to be one, too?"

another question i don't necessarily feel like answering but do anyway. "i don't think art is something that should be taught."

a quiet chuckle, my eyes shutting as he shifts ever so slightly. i wonder if it was on purpose. most likely. i learned quickly his preference to.....tease when it comes to the carnal nature of this agreement. "didn't your mom teach you?"

"well, yes, but....that's different."

another sound and another shift. "how?"

a low, elongated sigh, as i bite down on my bottom lip and continue to bite back the urge to say fuck it, and fuck him. "that was p—personal. a f—amily thing."

"you're close with your family." an observation versus a question.

hesitation. "yes." more hesitation followed by an absolute freudian slip of sorts. "are you?"

right away, i'd give anything to snatch it back. to tuck it back into wherever it came, because why would i ask him that? i don't need to know anything about this man outside of the few things he's shared, and they've been minimal, to say the least. so, why?

his reply is gruff, and the shift in his tone audible. " a few."

and, because i clearly left my senses back in the states. "the twins you were with that night....."

"they're probably the two i'm closest with out of anyone in my family." i don't know how i can tell he has that small smirk on his face, but i can. i just can. "them, and my cousin, dwayne, and brother, matteo." a quick add on, almost casually. "you'll meet them when we go to italy."

it's only in that moment i learn that italy is on the agenda of this almost tour of his. i don't ask questions about the itinerary. just follow his lead, as per the contract. that part is not entirely legally forbidden. i can ask questions. i just don't.

unless they're about his family, apparently.

"i....i didn't know you have a brother." nor is there a real reason i should know, but there's just something about him, about his demeanor that always presented with only child energy. whatever that means. i'm not sure. just never would have guessed it.

"half brother," an almost muttered explanation as his hand splays across my stomach, under the material of my silky, skimpy gown that probably cost more than my share of rent. "it's....complicated."

i believe it.

i'm not sure if he can tell and pick up on my dissatisfaction with this teasing, but the feel of him moving, lifting his hips just enough to thrust into me has my head lolled back against his shoulder, nails digging into his forearm.

that relieved, elongated moan and a sigh dancing out, as i feel his minty breath on my cheek.

his soft lips are against the apple of my cheek, voice haughty, "you always this needy for dick, princess?"

not until him.

no, before this man with the handsome smile, endless pockets, and dangerous dick, my sexual experience was....subpar, to say the least. two sexual partners, one being my first. 3/10. the second being my ex who gave me the good ole 'i just want to focus on myself for a little while' only for me to run into that girl he continuously told me, 'don't worry about her' at the cinema less than a month later.

-100/10

it was hit or miss if either made me come. damn sure never made me squirt, and both loved to ask for some head but rarely ever wanted to reciprocate.

night and day from the man who's gradually starting to fuck me. i didn't think it was possible for me to come the way he's made me orgasm. damn sure never thought i would ever squirt. and, God bless men who eat pussy freely and happily.

it's roman. he's men.

a different, pleasurable experience that makes this whole prostitution arrangement that much easier to digest.

prostitution.

just thinking the word makes me frown, the feel of roman's lips on the side of my neck distracting but not distracting enough.

i try not to think of it from that perspective. even if it's true. even if this "sugar baby" label is nothing more than a euphemism for being a hooker. i'm being paid for my service. for sex. he's paying to fuck me. yes, there are times where it's not just sex. where he just wants to see me in lingerie. sometimes in nothing. sometimes he just wants to watch me. see me come undone on the bed as i finger myself, all the while he sits across the room, stroking that lethal dick of his. sometimes, he comes on me. sometimes, he comes in me.

another thing touched on in the contract. the importance of protection. "safeguards to avoid unintentional impregnation," to be more legally specific.

we're always safe though, so there's that, at least. for....for the most part. sometimes, we're reckless. get lost in the heat of the carnal moment, but that's what plan b's are for. i've had to pop a few, more than i'd like to admit, especially considering that is not what they're for. but, the last thing i need is that as a result of this.

and, sometimes, sometimes, the time for sex is limited, because he's gone, off working or doing...whatever it is he does when i'm not with him. that's when the more traditional aspect of this whole thing kicks into play. when he leaves me at some store with a name i can't pronounce and a card that has no limit.

his hand leaving mine, a quick palming of my ass, and a kiss to my forehead as he leaves the team of workers he makes tend to me with a simple order. "give her whatever she wants."

a general, shared command for wherever we go. money is just a thing to him. consistent and in endless supply. the first time he took me shopping, that was a concept i hadn't completely grasped. his wealth something i still don't fully understand. i just know that he's rich. filthy freaking rich, and he doesn't even bother checking totals before pulling out or handing me that sleek black card. sometimes, it's cash. wads and wads of stacks of money that some people don't even see in dreams, and he treats like it's replaceable. because, it is.

just like me.

and then, there are other times where it's less traditional. fancy dinners, sure, probably a typical thing with a sugar baby arrangement. but, it's the way he holds my hand, keeps me close, takes me out as if this is real. as if we're this rich couple living and enjoying life.

one part of that is true. the other is not. the aesthetic does not match the story. a story only a few know. like his close friend and personal guard he leaves me with when he doesn't attend the shopping sprees, spa days, and/or lunches/dinners.

dean. a quiet, partially strange man i've learned is unapologetically his weird self but also....kind. we've only spoken on a few occasions, and each time has peeled back the layer of a man who can easily go from cracking a small smile with me, to sending the most murderous glance to random local whose gaze lingers on me a bit too long. or, at all, if it's roman.

there's a....protectiveness over me i've noticed within roman. or, maybe it's possessiveness. i'm not sure. another thing i try not to look too into.

once this is over, once i've fulfilled my contractual obligation and collected my 500k, i plan to swipe and erase this whole thing from my recollection. i don't know how roxy does it, or perhaps it's the fact that my first sugar baby arrangement ended up being the accompanying of a mafia kingpin on his summer vacation across the globe.

go big, or go home, i suppose. i'd prefer to go home, if possible, but i signed an agreement. agreed to this, so it's a lot of coping and a hell of a lot reminding. reminding that this is a means to an end, that i can get whatever therapy i'll need after this whole ordeal is over with using the half a mil i'm set to receive because of it. i'll never have to work again, never have to worry about not having enough of anything. and for that, i have him to thank. i can't and won't deny him that much.

everything else though....debatable.

thankfully, the time for getting to know each other is over before it can truly start. his hand is on the small of my back, pushing me forward, cheek pressed into the top of the laptop that's now closed as he refocuses his attention on the new task at hand.

"my princess loves when i stretch this pretty little pussy like this, huh?" his big hand spreads my ass cheeks, slips in between as his thumb probes my asshole.

that's been off limits the entire trip. some things are just too much, and that's definitely one of them. doesn't mean he hasn't teased, or that i didn't enjoy it.

that i haven't enjoyed any of the times he's split me open, spread me out, or bent me over the nearest surface.

can't and won't deny that.

my moans bleed into the cool aluminum, fingers grasping the edge of the desk at he fucks into me. "please..."

he sighs like he knows something, like he understands what courses through my body as he digs into me like he's searching for something, trying to prove something, trying to leave every hint, trace, and sign of himself in the deepest parts of me.

i feel his hand caressing the back of my head. “just take it, princess. let your tribal chief fill his pussy up.”

much easier said than done, especially when he stands up, forcing me onto my feet, my upper body practically spread across the desk. when he lifts my left leg up, forcing the inner part of my knee onto said desk so he can deepen his reach.

"oh shit," i pant, whining and withering underneath the weight of him atop me. his pace moves from tantalizing and teasingly slow to something quicker, hastier, desperate.

"you feel that, princess?" his deep voice barely registers, my senses too far gone and deep into the pleasure that rocks throughout my whole body. "feel how deep i'm in this tight ass pussy?"

"yes, fuck, yes," another moaned, pathetic response as my body jerks against the same piece of furniture he had me plopped on top of not even eight hours ago while he ate me out until i had to physically push him away.

for a man in his forties, his stamina is otherworldly. i didn't know sex drives this high existed for men outside of porn.

or, maybe he's just the exception.

the tears brimming in my eyes, as i whine once more, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room the same way he fills me. "it's too big," i moan, reaching behind him. limited experience or not, i know enough to know this man was blessed more than the average man, and as amazing as it and he feels, it's sometimes too much.

in more than one area.

he continues to stroke my hair, "i know, but you're taking it so well, baby."

the best and worst thing to say, because it kickstarts that urge to please him. to make him feel good. to almost prove that the insane amount of money he's paying for this, for me, is worth it. that i'm worth it.

my voice is low but loud enough for him to hear. "bed...."

and, he does. a gradual decline in his pace before he frees himself from me, releasing my leg, so my feet are on the ground. turning around, my gaze lifts to his, refusing to focus on his rock hard dick that drips with my slick. i instead focus on reaching up and smashing my lips onto his, the passion filling my body, coursing up and bursting through our lips dancing against one another.

his hands cup under my ass as he lifts me up, his wet member teasing my throbbing heat that aches and yearns for him. the minute he's laid back on that mattress, the rest of our clothes discarded across the floor, i waste no time in mounting back on top of him.

hands planted on his abdomen, i rock against and on top of him, eyes shut, fully immersed and soaking in how good he feels inside of me.

i feel his hands planted on my hips, guiding and rocking me, "don't hold back. wanna feel you..."

his words yoke out that moan i was trying to repress, the scream i want to keep tucked and hidden away. i've always found the dramatics of porn unappealing, saw straight through the obvious theatrical performance of it all, hence my only intermittent viewings.

but, there's nothing performative about the sounds that leave my mouth when it's just the two of us. the pleasure he's able to bring me every single time.

he doesn't know what a miss is, it seems. at all.

leaning forward, his mouth latching onto my nipple, one hand leaving my hips to caress my other breast. this change in angle has me whimpering, my palm moving and hovering over my lower belly.

this doesn't bypass him, the cruelest, most knowing smile lifting to his lips. "what, princess? is that were i am?"

only one answer that falls out my mouth as i gyrate atop him. "yes, oh my....fuck."

eventually, because i am a simple mere mortal compared to the man underneath me, the burning in my thighs become too much, my body collapsing atop his.

an inconsequential thing. "you're okay, baby." a kiss to my temple, my hands clutching his shoulders. "you're doing so good."

and, then another scream that erupts as he starts fucking into me harder. animalistic. my fingers dig into his slick skin, body nothing more than a sex rag doll. "p—please...."

a waste of time, breath, and words, as he soon flips us over, pushes my legs back, knees by my ear, cunt stretched and dripping all over him and this bed we're bound to ruin before the end of the day.

similar to every bed we've encountered since the inception of the trip.

"eyes on me, baby girl. i like to see you come apart."

a difficult, arduous task, but one i manage as i force my eyes open, vision blurred from my tears. i can only make out the shape of him, the way his hair, freed from the typical that keeps it tucked back and out of the way, frames that same aged but handsome face. his sex faces, a perfect combination of determined and gone. he's just as gone as i am, just much better with holding it in.

he's so....controlled in ways that i envy sometimes.

envy him.

it's another one of those heat of the moment thing as he explodes inside of me, filling me to the point where it drips out and onto these expensive sheets that probably cost more than my wardrobe put together. well, old wardrobe, because lord knows i'll be traveling back home with a collection of new items.

except, instead of working to catch my breath so i can get up, shower, and make sure to pop that pill before i step out of the bathroom, he has other things on his mind for me. for my body.

"you done?" eyes fluttering open, my mouth parts as his thumb tugs on my bottom lip, as if trying to beckon a response he doesn't actually care to hear. "that's too bad." i can barely register what's happening when he suddenly has me on my stomach, his once more hardened dick, stretching me once more, slow inch by slow inch. "cause i'm not."

---------

three months goes by a lot quicker and slower than i expected. some days, i was ready to go home. others, i dreaded the end date. and then, somewhere in between, i wasn't sure where i stood on things. and, most of those days were spurned by his....confusing behavior. when he'd hold me close to him, stroke the small of my back, ask me questions about myself, my life.

share things about himself.

the dinners that lasted far beyond the consumption of our meals and desserts. the evenings where he didn't touch me. didn't even try. just sat on the sofa with me, my back into his side, his long fingers caressing my skin as he watched me draw.

lovers who weren't lovers. the....domestic moments that didn't make sense for the business arrangement this is. or, was. i'm not sure anymore, because somewhere along the way, i started to crave it. crave the way he held me, how his eyes never left mine when we spoke, and i shared personal things about myself. when he shared personal things with me. the way we shared showers, his gentle touch moving the cloth over my body to clean me. the way i took just as much care to clean him, shampooed his hair. the way he sat in between my legs as i did his hair for him. interactions that didn't make any sense but felt right.

he started to feel right.

this started to feel right.

and i....i started to feel things, things far too inappropriate and a stark contrast to the contract i signed to ensure none of this happened. if only dried ink was stronger than the emotions that filled me whenever he held me, smiled at me, made me feel things i always read about but never experienced.

until him.

and, it was the night before we were set to fly back home, the official conclusion of this....adventure of sorts. our bodies tangled, sweat still lingering from the way he took me. not from behind. not in the mirror. just traditional missionary, his eyes never leaving mine, praises on repeat from his mouth, dripping and pouring into me, as i clutched his ass, wanting to feel him as deep as i could. wanting to melt and mold him into me, because if this was the last time, i wanted to remember and never forget it.

never forget him.

i was pressed into him, body practically sprawled on top of his, fingers absently tracing the ink on his chest. silence graced the room, the open doors of the balcony welcoming in the distant sound of the city that closed our trip. a city whose beauty is unlike any i've ever seen, but came not even closet to the beaty of the man under me. the time spent with him.

my eyes began to close, the exhaustion of the day and evening taking its toll. i pressed a kiss against his chest, murmuring a quiet, "good night" into his skin. he didn't say anything, not at first. not until the weight of sleep carried me into a place where i couldn't follow up and ask what he meant, a low "ou te alofa ia te oe" unknowingly being the last thing i would hear from him.

ever.

------

i woke up alone. roman wasn't in bed beside me. nor, was he in the shower or any other area of the penthouse, and the thought that he'd left to handle last minute business was quickly dispelled by the absence of his luggage. any trace of him gone.

a reality that had my chest feeling like it was closing in on itself, especially when a knock on the door that i prayed was him, only brought me face to face with paul. roman's chief advisor.

he wore that same smile that never settled well with me. his chubby face ruddy and somewhat sweaty, as he reached over an envelope.

my trembling hands struggled to open what i already knew what to expect.

"the tribal chief extends his deepest gratitude for your companionship these past three months and has extended the rental until the end of the week to give you time—"

"where is he?" i hated it. hated how empty and devasted i sounded. hated the way i couldn't prevent the blurring of my eyes. not that it really made a difference to the man before me.

he proceeded to completely ignore my question. "your flight home will be on another of the tribal chief's private jet's, and we will assure...." i just remember tuning him out after that, my mind too all over the place to even notice in that moment how the check he'd asked his advisor to leave with me was not for $500,000.00.

it was for $750,000.00.

three quarters of a million dollars that felt like nothing. i felt like nothing. he left. just up and left without a single word, not a goodbye, not an awkward parting conversation.

nothing.

because that's what this was, what i was, nothing.

and, i was the stupid, naive girl to think otherwise.

to feel otherwise.

to feel anything at all.

--------

the return home was a struggle. i don't think i was depressed, but i certainly wasn't happy. i stayed in my room for almost a week, barely ate, rarely left the house. just laid in bed, cried, sobbed, all while unsure as to just what to feel.

i'd never had my heart broken before that, had heard stories of girls over the years, comforted roxy as she cried into my lap over her own experience when we were still in high school, but that was truly my first experience with such a thing, and God was it painful. all i could think about was him. us. every experience, every touch, every kiss, every time he slid inside me, releasing that big sigh of relief, the way he held me afterwards. the conversations, the smiles, the laughs, the way he looked at me. made me feel like nothing else mattered but me. like his universe was my smile, and my home, his embrace.

i remembered it all.

and, then i remembered the feel of waking up alone, naked, in a cold bed without the feel of his arms around me, the sound of his deep voice as he muttered a sleepy, "morning, princess" in my ear and pecked my temple. our morning routine we'd fallen into that usually ended up with him inside me or his face buried between my legs.

i was alone. he left me alone.

he left me.

and, then after the hurt and pain came the anger.

but, it felt wrong being angry and upset with him, because he never promised me anything. he was transparent, in a sense, from the very beginning. laid out exactly what things were in a binding agreement that i signed freely. the were no lies, no subterfuge, no usury. none of that.

but, it's exactly what i felt. i felt used, lied to, manipulated, taken advantage of. like i was sold one thing, received another, promised something else, and then robbed all at once.

roxy tried to remind me to look at the "bright side" of things. i had my money. more money than i'd probably ever be able to spend in this lifetime.

bank account $750k richer, and, it meant nothing. it didn't make me feel anything. i didn't want to feel anything. didn't know how. except, suddenly, a few weeks after being home, i did start to feel things.

not emotions.

physical things.

food i couldn't keep down. nausea that wouldn't go away. breast that were suddenly sore outside of my pms and period window.

a period that i hadn't received.

i didn't need to take a test, didn't need a doctor to confirm what i already knew to be true. i just knew.

knew what it was. knew that while he had abandoned me, he hadn't left me with nothing to show for it.

and, it had nothing to do with the financial compensation.

i booked the appointment a few days after having it confirmed. no other option or choice came to mind. it was the right thing to do. what i wanted to do.

at least, that's what i thought in the days leading up. even as i sat in the exam room, robe on, simply waiting for the doctor to come in and rid me of this sudden problem. except, it was only then that i realized i didn't see it as a problem. didn't feel like it was a problem. in some strange sort of way, i felt like it as a gift.

i didn't have him anymore. i'd never had him in the first place, only foolishly and naively convinced myself that i did. but, i didn't, and i never would again. but, what i did have was a part of him. something that would always keep me connected to him, because as much as i was hurt by and angered with him, the opposite of it was just as true.

i missed him. loved him. had fallen in love with him, and getting rid of the only thing that could forever keep me tied to him felt wrong. it wasn't what i wanted.

so, i didn't do it. i walked out of that clinic, unborn child still in my stomach, roxy confused but supportive of this sudden change, with a new determination. i didn't need to tell him. didn't want to. he didn't deserve to know, nor would he probably want to know that one of the stipulations in the contract was broken. he most certainly put that section in there about avoiding pregnancies for a reason. because it wasn't what he wanted.

he would never want or acknowledge this baby.

the same way he never really wanted or acknowledged me.

and suddenly, that was okay. i was okay with that. i didn't need him.

never did.

i had my baby, not ours, but mine, and that was all that mattered.

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the belief that God has a sense of humor is something i've always agreed with. some things just being too unreal for it to not be true.

like when i found out the probable reason that roman left without a word, abandoned me and acted like the three months we spent together meant nothing to him.

because, they didn't.

they didn't, because it was nothing more than a final act of freedom.

a final fun thing for him to do before he bound himself to a woman for the rest of his life.

he was engaged. set to be married to a long-time fling turned fiancé now wife. now mother of his child.

because, not only was she his fiancé, she was his pregnant fiancé.

the whole time he was with me, a woman waited for him back home for him to give her his last name as she carried his first child.

i'm not sure how that didn't break me. didn't cause me to crumble, lock myself away and never return to the light. it crushed me, for certain, but also reaffirmed what i'd already realized. i was 100% used, but at the same time, i allowed myself to be used. as much anger i had for him, i had for myself.

but, they were feelings i had to shove and push away, as i focused on myself, my life, and the lives i was preparing to bring into the world.

because, of course, getting pregnant by my former sugar daddy with a single child wasn't enough. two also wasn't enough. no, three, triplets, was the only right thing.

he'd left me one, two, three reminders of the time we spent together. one baby for every month, according to roxy.

yeah....God has a big sense of humor.

so, even if for some reason i wanted to tell him about the babies, there was no way i could. no way he'd believe that he impregnated me with three children. granted, it wouldn't make much sense for him to try to deny what math and logic support. i was with him and only him, sexually and every other way, that entire time, as per the contract. but, it didn't matter, as i would learn he and his new wife welcomed a son.

she'd given him an heir.

i would only give him bastards.

she was his future.

i was the past he'd probably already forgotten.

nothing good could come out of it, and i....i accepted that, accepted that some things are better left untouched. that that chapter of my life was over, and my focus was better served on my future. a future that revolved around my children.

savannah, santana, and natano. my beautiful baby girls and handsome baby boy. they became my focus and the three individuals my whole world was suddenly focused around. motherhood unlocked a part of my heart i hadn't realized was unexplored. deepened the love i didn't know a human could have for another. my babies have become my entire world. they healed a part of me i didn't think could ever be healed.

they are my healing.

"mommy!" the chorus of giggling breaks me from my deep reflections of a time that feels so long ago instead of the almost three years prior. the smile on my face deepening, seeing the way three sets of little legs move across my backyard, chasing roxy. the sight of my mom shaking her head with that warm grin, as she stands near my dad who works to grill the burgers we'll eat later on.

they come to visit as much as they can, my mom and abuela more or less living with me when the kids were still babies.

a part of me feels bad, and probably always will, when i think of all the lies i had to tell from the beginning, regarding what happened all the way up until now. the lies that i'll always have to tell. this tale of a one night stand with a stranger leaving me knocked up. the way they believe i spent those three months with my aunt egypt, a traveler by nature. the fact that she, and roxanne, will always have to live by that lie. something both have expressed understanding and agreement with, but something i'm still not okay with. i love my family more than anything. they've always been so good to me and my rock as i entered motherhood.

i just hope one day, somehow, i can be honest with them.

hopefully.

i quickly set aside the sketchbook in my lap to prepare for the way natano, tano, slams into me. making a fake groaning sound, his big brown eyes lift up to mine, that smile, his smile, melting away any lingering emotions that time brings up. my hands go to his face, holding his cheeks gingerly, studying him. the way his long black hair, curls looser than that of his sisters', frame his face. his face.

some days, all i see in them, especially tano, is roman. even more when they're upset. their scowl is his scowl. other days, i only see myself. mostly in their smile, which is still a bit of him as well.

all days though, all i feel is their love.

i hold him close to me, soaking in all of the ardent joy he grants and gives me. "my baby boy...." his hugs are unlike anything else. the girls', too, but there's always something so comforting in the way he hugs and loves on me. at only two, i can already see the natural way he's falling into the "mama's boy" category. i am his entire world, and vice versa. the same for all the kids, but there's almost this seed of protectiveness that i can see only growing over the years. over myself and his sisters as well.

more footsteps, as savy and tana surround me, tugging on my arm, savy bouncing happily. "let's play, mommy!"

of the three of them, she's the most extroverted and outspoken. tano and tana have their moments, but it's more consistent with her.

the most playful tone i can muster as i reach over to lightly tickle her stomach. "you want me to play?"

"duh," roxanne speaks from the middle of the yard, a teasing smile on her face. she more or less lives with me in the beautiful six bedroom, four bathroom home i purchased while still pregnant with the triplets. a nice, family friendly neighborhood tucked in the suburbs right outside the city, it's in a great school district and only 15 minutes away from the art studio i opened shortly before the kids turned one.

it's been a busy past few years, and i can never deny the fact that the money i earned from that summer has changed my life for the better. not to mention, i still have plenty left over, even after investing a chunk, as per the suggestion and guidance of the giver himself.

it was one of our pillow talk conversations. his financial advice and even recommendation that i consult with his own financial advisor, seth rollins. something i eventually decided to, after realizing my conversations and interactions with seth are far and few in between. he only needs to know certain information about my personal life, most of it being my finances and business. nothing about the kids. at some point, i will have to switch to someone else. to not use someone so close to him, but that's a task for another day.

"food will be ready in about fifteen, so get it in while you can," my dad announces, my babies continuing to tug on me, eager for my participation. it's only because my parents are busy preparing dinner that they're not all over them versus myself and roxanne. they adore my parents and abuela.

my older cousin, trick, as well, who will be making a surprise appearance later on. tano especially loves him, and i love that for him. with tano's dad not being in his life, it's important to me he still has strong male role models to look up to and guide him. and, i know no better men than my father and cousin who's always been more like a big brother than anything.

and while, unlike my parents and abuela, i can tell he knows there's more to the story regarding the kids' dad, he's always been respectful and not pushed.

for now, at least.

"okay," i fake a long sigh, and they cheer happily at my acquiescence. standing up and pausing for a single second before i make a quick dash away from them, laughing and calling out, "catch me if you can!"

"no, mommy!" is all i hear followed by them scrambling to chase me down, grabbing roxanne by the arm as i quickly push for her to go the other way, throwing them off. but, my babies are smart, and there being three of them means they can split up and still win.

tana is the one to tackle me first, savy and tano landing on top of a laughing roxy.

tana clutches onto me, burying herself into my chest. my laughter loud and filling the spacious yard, my smile wide, and my heart full of so much love.

this all started out so strange, wrong even. i got my heart broke without even realizing it was on the line in the first place, experiencing some of the worst, heaviest, and deepest pain that i've ever experienced.

but i'd do it all over again if i had to.

i would. my babies are worth it. the life i've been able to provide them, the beautiful home i was able to purchase and will raise them in, the support of my family and friends, makes it all worth it.

and maybe...maybe more.

i've been on a couple dating apps the past few weeks at the strong urging of my aunt and roxy who believe it's time i try to start dating again. i'm not entirely opposed. i'm just so busy most days with the kids as well as my studio. my priorities have been my family and my business. that doesn't mean, i can admit, i can't make time for other things.

granted, thus far, it hasn't been the smoothest experience. i've matched with a couple guys, spoken to some, but only gone out on a date with few. a conversation with a seemingly sweet man named joe hendry went nowhere as he disappeared the minute i shared i'm a mother of three. he unmatched and blocked me.

another guy, atlas, sweet, handsome, with a personality similar to my own, was promising. we even went on a date that was pretty nice. he was a sweetheart, but even with him having a minimal reaction to my mentioning being a mother, i could see it. see that he was maybe a little naive to what it means to be dating a woman with children. especially such young children. thus, i was the one who gently broke it off. it was for the better, i know that.

atlas, however, was a contrast to the date i went on with carmelo, who left me at the table, citing an "emergency" when i mentioned the triplets, as i was trying something different. not disclosing my kids until we actually went on a date. obviously, that was not the route to go, and it wasn't even that i was trying to hide them, per se.

i'm just so protective of my children and don't plan to bring any man around them until at least a few months into dating. so, telling said men about them right out the gate feels a little uncomfortable. though, i also recognize men have the right to decide if they want to entertain a woman not even 28 who has three kids under three.

it just leaves me stuck between a rock and a hard place.

however, about two weeks ago, i made the wonderful decision to try to bring the kids with me while grocery shopping.

terrible mistake.

but, also....not.

because, it was savy dashing down the aisle, determined to grab a box of fruit loops off the shelf that allowed me, or rather my daughter, to run into him.

"whoa there, lil' lady," he spoke in a kind voice. one that matched a kind smile, my eyes bouncing back and forth between the child to the right of me and the one standing in the cart that i moved down the aisle, trying to close the gap. he looked over to the shelf, pointing at the red box. "this what you want?"

naturally, savy nodded happily and reaching greedily. i watched the way he chuckled and took the box down, handing it to her. "here ya' go, kiddo."

savy accepted said box, holding it to her chest. she then looked up with the biggest smile. "thank you!"

his grin widened watching her run back over by me as i finally closed the distance between myself and the kind stranger. savy deposited the box into the basket, while i issued an apology. "i'm so sorry."

he waved me off, shrugging his shoulders, my eyes briefly focusing on the tattoos that made up almost the entirety of both arms. "don't worry about it." he then gestured to the kids. "seems like you got your hands full."

a quiet chuckle and eye roll, as i pushed back some of my hair, tano hugging my leg. "something like that. i usually don't bring them with me, and i'm quickly remembering why."

his smile somehow widened, and i took note of the gray sprinkled in his beard. it was obvious he was older than me, but it didn't take away from how handsome he was. my eyes briefly focusing on his biceps flexing slightly as he crossed his arms. "yeah, i usually come later in the evening, but i guess it's a good thing i didn't."

my brows furrowed a bit in confusion as i pulled tana out of the cart, bending over to place her on the ground as she huddled with her siblings. standing back up and adjusting my top, his gaze was still on me. "oh? why?"

the easiest, smoothest answer. "wouldn't have ran into such a pretty lady."

it'd been so long since i'd been flirted with like that, since i'd been on the receiving end of flirting that hadn't left me feeling awkward or uncomfortable. that had my stomach filling with butterflies.

kids deep in conversation amongst themselves, stepping out of my comfort zone and moving a bit closer, i offered my hand. and, a chance. "solana."

"phil," he returned, and it didn't miss me the way his hand lingered over mine. "but, my friends call me punk."

retracting my hand, it was impossible to not giggle. "punk? feels like there's a story there."

"oh, there certainly is, and i sure wouldn't mind telling you." his eyes sparked with something. "i'd just prefer to do so over dinner."

i've gone on exactly two dates with phil since then, and both have been nice. really nice. i like him. he's kind, funny, down to earth and doesn't seem to care about the fact that i have children. seems okay with it.

he feels....promising.

despite the fact that roxy is convinced that i have some kind of deep rooted daddy issues given the "old guys" i keep going for. doubtful considering my daddy is my world, and it's not like i haven't tried for men closer to my age.

it just doesn't work out. didn't before i had kids and especially doesn't now that i do have kids. not that older means better.

look at roman.

though despite everything that happened, sometimes i still think about him. still miss him. wonder what his life is like with her. if he's happy. what he would think or do if he knew about the kids. but, then i remember why he doesn't know. that i'm sparing them the hurt he caused me, being the protective mama they need me to be. remember that they're better off without him.

and, so am i.

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translation: ou te alofa ia te oe = "i love you."

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STREAM: Dos Oruguitas

STREAM: Episode One / Episode Two / Episode Three

STREAM: With Me

STREAM: Without You

STREAM: Give Me A Reason

STREAM: Love Lies

STREAM: Untitled, Unmastered

STREAM: Somewhere Between Right and Wrong