Page 15 of Heartfelt Pain (Ruling Love #3)

Ren

T revino gives me crap about ordering pizza. Not because of the calorie content but because he doesn’t believe in ordering things to one’s house.

“How do you shop?” I ask.

“I go to a store.”

“But online?”

“We live in one of the largest cities in the world,” he states blankly. “I don’t need to shop online.”

“But it’s fun getting packages in the mail.”

He didn’t seem to think so. But I got my pizza after a certain amount of back and forth.

He doesn’t eat a single piece. I don’t mind eating his portion.

It’s almost eleven o’clock at night when there’s a knock on the door. I didn’t order anything else and Isolde normally texts before she comes up.

Trevino forces me to stay on the couch as he creeps toward the door.

“You expecting a Zimin?”

Oh, fuck .

Trevino is already drawing his gun.

“Wait, wait, wait, no.” I scurry to the door. “It’s fine.”

Not that I’m really sure about that. I peek through the peephole. It’s Roma. His hair is tousled and he’s got on his leather jacket.

It’s late and I never heard back after my last text.

“He’s not on the approved guest list,” Trevino notes.

“You’re telling me you haven’t vetted all of the Zimin’s?”

He keeps his face blank.

“What’s your professional opinion on them?” I can’t help but ask.

It’s like before. I can tell he has a lot of information but he’s not sure what he wants to say.

“The Russians handle their business,” he replies diplomatically.

“You hate them?”

“I didn’t say that.”

There’s another knock on the door.

His face remains neutral as he says, “I have been hired to protect you from an unidentified killer and the man knocking on your door has a track record of screwing you over.”

Is that my bodyguard speaking or my inner consciousness?

“Just open the door,” I tell him.

Standing tall, he pulls the door open. I peer around him, but he keeps his body—his very fit body—angled in front of me. I’m going to be texting Isolde about this.

Though, she’d probably agree with him.

“Do you want some pizza?” I offer.

Roma’s too busy playing a staring game with Trevino.

“Weapons?” Trevino asks.

Roma snorts. It’s just like when he scared that guy away at Hartright. He doesn’t give a fuck about Trevino and it’s obvious.

But I like Trevino so I ask, “Do you have any? ”

Brown eyes meet mine. If I had to guess, I’d say he’s annoyed with me. Again.

“I’m Roma Zimin.” He holds out a hand. “You?”

“Trevino.” He doesn’t take the offered handshake.

“You got a first name?”

“The Ghost,” I say right as he announces, “Tristan.”

Trevino cuts his gaze toward me.

“He’d figure it out soon enough,” I defend.

“You’re taking meetings with clients in your apartment now?” Roma asks me.

Trevino holds up a finger, silently telling Roma to give us a minute. Then he shuts the door in his face and turns to me. “This man is arrogant and annoying.”

“I feel like some people would describe you the same way.”

“You really want to let him into your apartment?”

“Do you have a younger sister by any chance? Because you’re giving off very strong big brother vibes.”

“Which you’re not going to pay attention to at all.”

I smile up at him as my hand reaches out to open the door again. “I’ve got a sheet mask left if you want to use it,” I tell Roma.

“Why is the Ghost in your apartment?” he asks as he passes by. His chest is so close I brush against the material of his jacket.

“He’s my new bodyguard,” I say, not wanting to go into the details.

“You think I’m going to need one too?”

I pause by the coffee table, where the pizza box is. “So your dad told you?”

“She tell you about the masked guy last night?” Roma asks Trevino.

The bodyguard remains rigid by the end of the couch. I’ve always thought my apartment had a decent amount of space, but the two large men are eating up a lot of it .

“Yes,” he confirms. “But I’d love to get your version of events.”

“I think we could do that later.” I sink onto the end of the couch and toss a blanket over my pajama shorts.

“You don’t by any chance know the masked guy?” Roma asks.

“Because I know all masked perps?” Trevino replies.

“I didn’t know if you guys have a club or something.”

“Trevino wouldn’t hang out with someone as stupid as the guy from last night,” I defend. “Now both of you knock it off.”

The men stare at me like they’re just now remembering I’m in the same room.

“Do you want pizza or not?” I ask Roma, pointing at the box.

“No.”

It’s late and I’m suddenly sick of the reality show on the TV. Roma and Trevino are still both standing.

“So did you move in or?” Roma asks him.

“Yes,” he confirms.

Roma bites the inside corner of his lip. “Okay, I’m going to need you to go outside for a second.”

Trevino’s eyes meet mine. I nod.

With a sigh, he slips out.

“That’s kind of rude.” Earlier today, I didn’t want to hire him, but now he’s like a houseguest.

“You think he has voyeurism tendencies?” Roma asks taking off his jacket. He looks around for a spot to hang it up.

I curl my legs to my chest, pulling the blanket up. “It wouldn’t matter seeing as nothing’s about to happen.”

He throws his jacket on the edge of the couch. “You called my dad about your ex-boyfriends dying but you didn’t want to call me?”

“Not particularly, no.” I reach for my can of Pepsi .

“You still drink that stuff?”

“I will drink whatever I want in my own damn house.” I take a sip. “What do you want, Roma?”

“Mostly to get laid,” he admits. I almost choke on my drink.

“Those are some high hopes.”

He shrugs. “You should take more pity on me. My days could be numbered.”

“Why did you come to Hartright’s on Saturday?”

He slides onto the couch, taking Trevino’s spot. “Lennie told me where you were going. And I don’t know.”

I lift a brow. “You don’t know?”

How can we go for years without talking to suddenly making out in the back of a cab?

Without hesitation, Roma replies to my question. “I’d rather tear you apart than let you sleep with another man.”

He’s steady as he says it. Serious, brown eyes never leave my face.

I should be scared. But I’ve lived with monsters for so long that I’m not.

I’m a monster too, after all. I’ve killed men.

“I’d rather be torn apart than sleep with you,” I tell him.

This man dares to brush my hair back as he replies, “You always liked it when I tore you apart.”

I shift back, but he doesn’t stop. “My cock in your cunt. Buried deep. You cried for me. Every time.”

Heat flushes my cheeks, but I pull the blanket around me tighter.

“The cab on Saturday was fun, but do you remember us behind Fujimori’s in the alleyway?”

I hate him for bringing it up.

“Our first time and you let me destroy you. I begged to take you back to my place and you tore your panties down. I couldn’t fucking breathe you were so tight. ”

“I wish you couldn’t fucking breathe right now,” I mutter.

His smirk is what decides it for me.

I throw off the fuzzy blanket and shimmy out of my pajamas. Roma’s head jerks back as he watches me, no longer able to talk.

I further take away his ability when I kick off my underwear, ball it up, and shove it into his mouth.

“You’re so fucking annoying,” I say as I climb onto his lap. “Because I remember that night too. What was it? All two minutes of it.”

His hands wrap around my naked waist.

“Let’s see how long you can go this time,” I challenge. His eyes are wide as he glances down at my pussy. I’ve been needy for days and arousal already coats my thighs. “Let’s see if you’ve learned how to use your dick.”

I unzip his pants, wiggling to get his hard cock out.

“Do you think you can make me come, Roma?” I ask. He nods, my underwear gagging him. I remember that girl in the alleyway, needy for him. I’m still needy, but it’s different. It’s dangerous. I want to scratch something deep in my soul.

“Make me come,” I demand. My own words work me up. I’ve never controlled so much of an interaction and I’m high from the power. “Put me on your cock and make me ride you.”

His fingers dig into my waist. He lifts me and then slams me down on his cock.

My head bows, my forehead touching his chest. The muffled groan from Roma shoots through my spine and I whisper into his ear, “You think you can fill me up?”

Thank fuck I’m on the pill because I’ve just let this man claim me without a condom.

“Be a good boy and fill me up,” I goad. His hands move my waist and our hips rock. His cock pounds into me as he forces me down, over and over again .

He’s still wearing a shirt, but my arms wrap around his neck, my nails scratching over the skin. It’s my turn to tear him apart.

“More,” I demand, flexing my hips down. It’s a punishing, driving pace in which I force him to do the work, to move my body.

Delicately, I kiss his cheek. I pull him closer, his chest as close to mine as possible. The planes of his chest rub against me, my nipples tightening. I throw my head back, unembarrassed to show how good it feels.

My hand runs through his hair, sweat gathering at his hairline.

“I thought you wanted to fill me up?” I ask, panting. He chokes on his response. I move his hand, forcing it between us. He takes direction well, his thumb finding my swollen clit.

Colors flash as I shut my eyes. I hold onto him for dear life as his hips jerk. My release is a cascade, my walls clenching down on him.

His cock swells inside me and I open my eyes as his hot semen fills my cunt. I hang on to every moment, trying to memorize the sensation. The way he keeps pumping into me and I wrap my arms around him, wanting to cling to him. To so closely become one with him.

I hold onto him, my chest rising and falling with his. Until I get my breathing under control. Then I untangle myself and drop onto the couch.

He runs his hand down my legs.

I fling an arm over my eyes. “Clean me up,” I demand. When he doesn’t move, I lift up, yank my underwear from his mouth and pull his face to my pussy as I lay back down.

His tongue laps at me. Cleaning my thighs, though, it’s a lost cause. I drift into the pleasurable sensation as his mouth moves from my thighs to my slit. He runs his tongue up and down. He licks his own cum off my pussy .

My fingers fist his hair, grinding him to my face. He sucks my clit and my back arches. He’s gentle as he goes back to licking off the new arousal between my thighs.

Finally, he settles back, quiet as he watches me. My hand remains flung over my eyes.

I dismiss him. “You can leave now.”

He doesn’t speak as he stands up, pulling his pants back up. There’s a rustle of clothes and I expect him to be gone, but instead, he lifts one of my legs.

I move my hand and find Roma pulling my pajama shorts back up my thigh.

It’s Trevino, I realize a beat later. Roma might silently take my orders, but he’s not about to leave me naked for another man to find.

Fine, I let him finish pulling up the shorts. But that’s it. “You’re not taking my underwear with you.”

I grab them from his hand and settle back. He’s crestfallen, but a half-second later he tugs on his leather jacket and opens the front door.

It’s not right away, but I’m not sure if it’s a minute or ten before Trevino lets himself back in.

I keep my hand over my face but when he passes by I hear him mutter, “I’m never sitting on that couch again.”