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These days, Roman looked forward to Friday nights. He looked forward to stealing the show yet again with another memorable in-ring promo on Smackdown. But it wasn't the reaction from the fans, or his cousins or Paul, or even Vince himself, that he was interested in. There was only one person's opinion he cared about, and that was yours. You never hesitated to let him know just how much you enjoyed his promos and segments. Sure, he received all these great responses from everyone else, but he enjoyed your feedback the most, because it always ended up with him on his back, or you on your back, or on all fours...Long story short, you were the Tribal Chief's favorite critic and he took your feedback very well. Very well, indeed.
So after fulfilling his obligations for the night, he was quick to return to his tour bus. He was still buzzing from the rush of the contract signing segment with Brock, and judging from the text message you sent afterwards, so were you. He salivated as he fantasized about what you were going to do to him. You were a regular visitor on his bus, and you definitely weren't coming over for tea parties or Bible study. In fact, the last time he left you alone, he came back to find you naked in his bed, your long legs wide open, moaning his name while you pleasured yourself with the vibrator he bought you. The freaky shit both of you got up to behind closed doors was every erotic writer's dream, and he had a good feeling that tonight would be no different.
Stepping inside the bus, he shrugged off his tracksuit jacket and made his way down the narrow aisle, past the front lounge and the kitchenette. Approaching the bedroom, the sounds of a familiar R&B tune increased in volume as he pushed open the door. Your back was to him, your hips swaying sensually to the soft music. More enticing was the little number you had on that Roman assumed was sleepwear; a green satin camisole that looked like it was painted onto your frame, and black lace panties that barely contained your round booty cheeks. Roman remained silent as he leaned against the wall, licking his lips as he watched your little show. His chocolate beauty; sexy as all hell. His heart warmed to see you so relaxed and comfortable in his world. Your positive vibe and energy was infectious, which was why he wanted to be around you all the time. He watched you dip low to the ground and come back up the same way, bending your knees slightly as you rolled your ass along to the music. You were clearly enjoying yourself and so was the Tribal Chief.
"Damn, girl," he muttered, loud enough for you to spin around and smile brightly at him. "Hey Champ," you greeted, "You're back early."
"I was missing you," he shrugged, giving you one of his trademark panty-dropping winks. "Did you catch my promo?"
"You know I did. You knocked it out of the park yet again. All that stuff you said to Brock about owning everyone and everything? I felt that shit, because it's true. You got your point across, and got me all hot and bothered." You were still dancing, shaking out your hair as you approached him. "I still don't get why Paul's always so extra though," you griped.
Roman chortled as he recalled Heyman's particularly enthusiastic display in the ring tonight. "He can be boisterous," he agreed, his dark eyes fixated on your every move. He noticed your nipples poking through the thin satin material of your camisole, begging to be licked and sucked. They were more visible as you got closer, placing one foot in front of the other, like a seductress stalking her prey. He liked being your prey.
