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He slid a finger under the elastic band. “You can't touch me during sex. That’s why your hands are tied up.”
I frowned. “What—ow!”
He let the band snap before tugging it down. “No questions,” he murmured, a small smile playing on his luscious lips.
Damn him! Why did he have to be so smooth, so beautiful? If he wore an eye patch and had jagged scars slashed across his skin, it might have been easier for me to loathe him the way I wanted to.
Involuntarily, I lifted my hips, so he could ease the thong off.
He pushed my legs wide apart, and his eyes glazed, staring hungrily. I knew what he saw. The glistening wetness between my thighs. Fiery heat burned my cheeks.
I lay there, completely naked, with everything exposed for him to feast his eyes on. This must have been the most erotic scene I'd ever had in my head, not in my wildest fantasies could I have imagined anything like it. And he said I wasn't allowed to touch him?
Unbelievable.
Without warning, his fingers brushed my wet sex, making me jump and writhe and all thoughts of hate flew out the window. A delicious shudder rattled my bones, and I suppressed a “Mm.” The sound of pleasure. Pleasure, he gave me.
“Tonight, I will not respect you,” he spoke more to the sight between my legs than to my face. “I'm going to make you scream my name and make your legs shake so much that you won't be able to walk straight when I'm done with you.”
I opened my mouth, ready to reply, but his mouth covered mine, and that was the end for me. My mind protested as my body succumbed to the tenderness of his lips. I melted into him and gasped as his teeth nibbled and pulled at my bottom lip. His scent entranced me, confusing my senses. He cradled my face with one hand and pressed the pad of his thumb against my clit.
My back arched, flushed against his stomach, and his hardness poked my belly through his pants. He deepened the kiss, and my head buzzed like I was high on drugs. He teased my tongue and sunk a finger inside me. I tried to fight the emotions swirling in my chest while my core trembled, and my hands wriggled in their restraints.
“So. Fucking. Tight.” His control was weakening.
A loud moan escaped my lips as I stretched, accommodating his finger. Before Rafail, I’d never felt this way. He pushed me to my limits, made me hate, and made me desire, at the same time. I knew he was aware of my inexperience; the gentle working of his finger, preparing me, was proof.
He slid in and out carefully, and I moved my hips to match his rhythm. It felt good and my pathetic groan told him so.
“Maybe I should eat out your pink pussy.” A smirk curled up his lips. He was pleased. “Or maybe we should double it up.”
A second finger went inside me, and my head fell back. A rise bubbled and my stomach tightened. I saw the peaks of mountains through white clouds as if I were floating around them, waiting for a drop. A release of some kind.
The slick sound of his finger thrusting in and out of me echoed softly through the room, pushing me closer and closer to the edge. When his thumb touched my clit, my body jerked, and my thighs began to shake. I could no longer hold back my pleasure and fell head-first into my orgasm. At that moment, I’d have given almost anything to break the rule. To touch him, to scrape my nails down his back, to thread my fingers through his soft hair.
“Are you ready for me?”, he asked with a broad satisfied smile.
Too overwhelmed to speak, I only managed to nod. He pushed off me. The sight of him standing at the end of the bed, the front of his pants bulging with his erection and his blue eyes bright with lust, made my insides pulse for more. Rafail unzipped his pants and pulled them down along with his briefs, releasing his thick cock. I gasped at the size that stood out from his body.
He climbed over me again and pinned himself even tighter against me. Shamelessly, I pressed myself against his hard length. I wriggled, whimpered, and gasped in anticipation. He gripped my hips and his blunt nails dug into my skin, halting the movement.
He groaned through clenched teeth. “Before I give you what you want, you have to do something for me first.”
My chest heaved and I parted my lips. “What’s that?”
His thickness poked my entrance and an animalistic groan rumbled at the back of his throat. Shivers and cold sweat broke out on my skin.
“Complete the sentence ...”
“W-What?”
That was torture, for him and for me. He held me tight, clearly wanting me, and I laid under him with no resilience left. Why did he do that?
“Complete the sentence.” He put a hand under my chin, pushed it up, and dug his inky blue eyes into mine. “If you are my wife that makes me your ...”
I stilled, realization dawning on me. He wanted the statement, the affirmation binding us. The seal of my future, tying us together. I knew what would happen if I said it; if I acknowledged our status.
His erection entered slowly into me until his tip was inside me, and I whimpered as he stretched me. The shivers came back and my need for him returned with an overwhelming weight.
