Crown of Sins - Chaelisa

-Chapter One(M)-

*Roseanne's POV*

He runs his strong hands up my sides—the left skimming faster than the right in a race where they both win. They're calloused, his surprising long fingers, and the difference in texture from my velvety skin is delicious. But I stop him, my hands stilling his, just before he makes it to the bottom of my tits. He groans.

But I don't give in. No matter the amount of complaining, Caleb gets off on me being in control. And let's face it—I do too. That's why I'm on top, guiding the speed and depth of each thrust. On top while he stares up at me with something like worship in his dark eyes, pushing me on even more.

When I let go of his hands, he thinks it's to let him go where he wants to go. But in a moment I readjust, twisting his wrists while pushing down—until his knuckles are pressed into the bedframe above his head. For a moment I consider tangling my fingers in his hair and pulling, but then he bucks up just enough for me to forget about that and anything else.

That's when I let my eyes flutter closed, my head tipping back.

"Roseanne," Caleb moans my name like there's more to it than the two syllables, like it's a book full of psalms. "Rosie," he says. And this one sounds like a curse, like begging for mercy, like I have every ounce of his being at my fingertips and he's just waiting for me to end him.

What a fucking fantastic end it would be too.

But, as I swivel my hips in a circle, driving both of us crazy, I let go of him. My hands find the back of my neck, finally giving him the access he's been craving. And he doesn't hesitate. His thumbs are on my nipples in less time than it takes to lift up and drop back down around him.

With his touch, his bronzed skin slick with sweat, rubbing and twisting the tip of my nipple, I feel the building inside me.

It's hard to keep my rhythm slow, still measured. I'm determined, but also know my composure will only last so long. It's harder still as my name drops from his lips over and over—this time coated in devotion, in a protection that gives way to another round of my own excitement glides around him.

"Rosie, Rosie, oh Roseanne, fuck Rosie" Caleb repeats over and over in question, in reverence, in pleas.

I pick up speed—no longer able to hold onto anything but him, the room spinning around us, or at least that's what it feels like. I have no patience left inside me—there's no room for anything other than him—and my hips move quicker as my breath hitches in the back of my throat.

The building is overwhelming. And then my own sounds start filling the room, taking over Caleb's grunts. Not quite screaming, but not far off, the high pitch of my declarations bring me, and Caleb, closer and closer to the edge. All of the pressure of the world, every atom pressing into me and all of my nerve endings, moves to one spot. To one end goal.

As my fingers find my raw and throbbing clit between us, moving in circles to the beat of our cries, there's no going back. I feel Caleb's gaze, the depth in those chocolate eyes, move to where we're connected, sending me higher and higher as his adoration turns more than just physical, visual too.

And then everything I've been working toward is ripped from my sweating fingers, leaving me clawing at nothing. Screaming silently into the void that sucks the air from me like a vacuum.

The world tips sideways, or maybe upside down, as I suck in a breath—this time in surprise rather than ecstasy. And it sticks to my throat, coating it with something sticky and sour, with no hope of letting go. Fuck this. Shock and fear, almost foreign by now, reach into me and take hold of the marrow inside my bones. More than stilled, I'm frozen for a moment that stretches beyond the breaking point.