Sweet Rome

“I’m not going anywhere,” I assured her, my voice stern and laced with authority. I grimaced internally, unsure if my tone would scare her off. But hell, this was me: stubborn, strict, one hell of a moody f**ker, and harboring a desperate need to be in control.

As always, the girl surprised me, and instead of being deterred and telling me to f**k off, she burst into hysterical laughter.

I wasn’t sure whether to be pissed off or join in on the amusement. “What’re you finding so funny, Shakespeare?” I asked, a hoarse roughness to my voice.

Leaning farther forward, she sang, “That Romeo has come to my balcony to strive for my attention.” I barely even noticed she said that damn name; I was too mesmerized by the lift in her spirit.

Clasping her hands, she recited, “The orchard walls are high and hard to climb, And the place death, considering who thou art, If any of my kinsmen find thee here… they will murder thee.”

“How the hell do you know that from memory?” I asked, fighting not to return the wide smile that was plastered on her damn cute face.

“I’ve read it about a hundred times. It’s beautifully tragic.” Pointing at me, then herself, she said, “Kind of like us, don’t you think?”

She’d hit the friggin’ nail on the head. We were tragic, both pretty f**ked up. But we could be f**ked-up together, balance it out.

Running to the side of the balcony, I spotted a trellis and, groaning at the damn irony, began climbing up the wall like a man possessed.

“Romeo, be careful! What the hell are you doing?” Molly hissed, watching me in horror.

“Coming to see my Juliet,” I said in jest, watching her face pale as she stumbled back in surprise, then climbing the rest of the way and jumping onto the terrace. I hit the floor with a thud, but then I looked up… and almost had a stroke.

Brown hair to her waist, thick enough to grip, and the shortest, thinnest scrap of pink material barely covering her impressive curves, the beads of her ni**les visible, tempting me to just step forward and take them in my mouth. My c**k instantly hardened in my jeans, and moving toward her, noting the quickened rise and fall of her braless tits, I reached out, stroking her soft dark hair—even the thin wrap of sports tape in the center of her frames unable to distract me from how f**king stunning she was right here before me.

In an instinctive move, her hand met mine, and, taking advantage of the lust widening in her eyes, I moved in, running my finger down her neck, my restraint hanging by a thread.

“Romeo? W-what are you doing?” Molly asked, her question more of a strangled moan than anything else.

“I ain’t sure. But I don’t wanna stop,” I whispered against her neck. Vanilla. Her. Fucking perfection.

“Rome, I don’t think—” She stopped mid-sentence as she whipped around to look down at the backyard, fear on her face. Students flooded the yard, the party spilling to this side of the street. I didn’t give a shit, though. In fact, let all of the student body see us like this. So with more aggression, I slammed her body against mine and nipped along the bare skin of her neck, continuing where we left off.

“We… we need to stop,” Molly whispered into my ear, but there was no conviction in her tone, just breathy pleas spurring me on.

“No, Mol. I’ve held off for long enough. I’ve tried to take things slow, but no more. I won’t be a nothing to you anymore. I want you. I want you so f**king bad…” I said quietly, my voice hoarse with need, my desperation increasing by the second. Reality and fantasy blurred into one, and I couldn’t get the image of us intertwined on her bed out of my mind. I almost groaned out loud at the thought that in about ten minutes, I’d have her stripped bare, could be plunging deep in her pu**y.

Soft hands skimmed up my bare arms, feeling so damn right against my skin. “Rome. This isn’t a good idea. I can’t do this.” But she didn’t pull away; her hips and tits were still pressing into my body

“Sure you can,” I murmured, my hands slowly drifting down, hearing the hitch in her breathing as I caressed her waist.

Those damn soft hands suddenly pushed me back, snapping me to the harshness of reality. “Please… just… hold on a moment,” she said in a fluster, arms locked and braced to stop me getting any closer.

Well, that was a first, a chick stopping me from f**king her. I hadn’t had to work at sex since I was in high school; matter of fact, I never did then either. Chicks were just always drawn to me. Not Molly, though; she was proving one tough f**king nut to crack.