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Rafael: I’ll be waiting
A good fuck would do me good. The best way to let off some steam. Especially since I’m so frustrated with wanting to fuck Jordan but not going through with it. I should have. I wanted to. But something stopped me.
Jordan has smitten me since the first time I saw her, and she is oblivious to it. I won’t gravel at her feet and explain it to her, but she’ll realize it one day. She’ll realize she’s more than a debt paid and owed.
I wanted her, so I took her. It’s that simple.
When I leave my office, I lock the door. A minor inconvenience of having Jordan here, but hopefully one day she can be trusted. I can’t risk her having a tantrum and destroying important stuff that could ruin my family. Not to mention fucking with my space by dumping horrid smelling products everywhere.
I head downstairs, moving through the hallways until I reach Rafael’s room in the back of the house. I walk in without knocking and find him lying on his fourposter bed in nothing but a pair of grey boxer briefs. He lowers his phone when he hears me enter, a smirk crossing his full lips. His hair is in messy-but-sexy disarray, and I ache to run my fingers through it.
“Eager? That was faster than five minutes.” He smiles wider.
“Maybe.” I close the door behind me and crook my finger at him. He places his phone on the end table and moves to stand in front of me.
I brush the backs of my fingers up his firm abs, bring them back down, and dip my fingertips into the waistband, dragging them side to side. His breath catches in his throat, his eyes falling shut. Rafael has a perfect body. Toned in all the right places and without having to work out constantly. I focus on his lips, the way they part as I run my hand up his side. They way they turn into a smile when I reach around to cup his ass and pull him closer to me. He’s already hard, and he grinds against me. He rumbles out a moan when I drag my tongue up his throat and nip at his clean-shaven jaw. Rafael is gorgeous, but the best thing about him is how fucking submissive he is. How much he enjoys pleasing.
“Undress me.”
He hums a sound of approval. “Yes, sir.”
The buttons on my shirt are quickly undone. He’s skilled, as he’s done this many times before. He slides it off my shoulders and drapes it on the chair by the door. My undershirt is pulled off next. He undoes my pants but doesn’t pull them down. I sit in the chair, and he takes my shoes off, then my socks. He stays knelt in front of me, waiting for me to stand, but I don’t. I keep my gaze on him. He watches me carefully, waiting for my next move so he can determine his. I press two fingers to the underside of his chin and lift his head slightly.
“Why do you stay here, Rafael?”
Hesitance flashes in his emerald eyes. “I like our agreement,” he answers softly.
“Why?”
“It fulfills me.”
Rafael and I have an understanding. One that isn’t just because of the contract—it’s natural. We sense each other’s moods. We know when and where things are appropriate. When I am in a mood like this, somewhat melancholy and needy, Rafael knows what level to be on—knows how to match me. He knows what I need from him, the same way I know how much to give him. It’s why these sorts of relationships don’t work for everyone. You have to be in tune with your partner, and that is something Rafael and I have perfected.
“Fulfills you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“In what ways?” I drag my fingers to the back of his neck, using my thumb to brush along the skin beneath his ear.
“All ways, I suppose. Mentally, emotionally, physically.”
“So I make you feel good?”
He smiles. “You do.”
“What about everything else?”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“Relationships. Knowing you don’t get everything that goes along with it and won’t from me, but also can’t get it from anyone else.”
“I don’t want any of that.”
I’m aware of this, of course. We’ve talked about it. Our agreement won’t work without absolute honesty and openness and trust. Rafael has never hidden his distaste for committed relationships.
“What if you did?”
“If I did? I suppose I’d talk to you about it.”
