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The first pleasurable touch I’ve felt in months.
Closing my eyes, I lean into the almost foreign sensation. My fingertips tease around my dripping entrance and slide my arousal over my clit. My hips rock against my touch, needing more as I quickly chase after my release.
“That’s it, little lamb.” Rafael’s deep voice breaks through the quiet of running water and heavy breaths. “Remember how fucking good it can feel.”
My head falls back as I continue to work over my clit, every touch causing whimpers and moans to fill the small space. As every muscle in my body tightens, my ass lifts from the counter as I seek more of my touch. Rubbing over my clit, euphoria crashes through me as I come. It’s so fucking hard and overwhelming that I can feel tears falling down my cheeks.
“Don’t stop,” Rafael’s breaths are ragged, “open your eyes.”
Opening my eyes, I am met with the sight of him on the other side of the glass—fervently fisting over his length, his nostrils flaring, with an animalistic heat in his eyes. Eyes that are so focused on me that they feel like they’re burrowing through my soul.
“That one was yours,” he growls, “now, fucking come for me.”
Staring into his eyes, I continue to work my fingers over my already sensitive clit. His unwavering gaze is locked on mine, and he continues to groan through every aggressive stroke of his fist.
“When you’re ready, little lamb,” he lets out a heavy growl, “I’m going to fuck you day and night until my cock is the only one you remember.”
“Raf…” I struggle to say his name through my rapid breaths as another orgasm lingers at my fingertips.
“Keep those eyes on me, Lucia,” he snarls when I close them. “When you come for me, I want to see those eyes of yours.”
His words and the intensity of the gaze staring back of me have my whole body on fire. Screams pour from me as electricity shoots through every nerve in my body.
“Fuck,” Rafael roars as his cum splatters in ribbons over the glass separating us.
My hand rests against my pulsating clit, I lean back against the mirror as I try to catch my breath and comprehend what the hell just happened.
Rafael turns off the water and wraps a towel around his waist before stepping from the confines of the shower. He takes his time crossing the distance between us, his eyes lock onto mine when he retakes his stance between my knees. Lightly gripping my wrist, he pulls my hand from my pussy and out of the boxer briefs I’m wearing. He looks over my glistening fingers with hungry eyes and brings them toward his lips.
Using the flat of his tongue, he firmly licks up the length of my fingers—my pussy tingles at the thought of his tongue between my thighs—and draws them into his mouth. He sucks on them diligently hard. When they’re cleaned of every drop of my arousal, he slowly pulls them from his lips while lightly teasing them with his tongue. Placing a soft, wet kiss on my knuckles his eyes meet mine as his word vibrate against my hand. “You taste better than I imagined.”
Releasing my hand, he lightly cups my chin as he leans over my body. His lips press against mine, and I willing part them when he presses his tongue between them. Rafael’s tongue swipes over mine, and the faint remnants of my arousal hit my tastebuds.
He pulls back, so little that his lips dust against mine as he says, “You deserved better, little lamb. It might not be soft and tender, but I’ll give you better.”
He presses his lips back against mine, then he roughly squeezes my chin. Releasing me, he walks from the room as my body melts back into the mirror behind me.
What the fuck was that?
I hadn’t given much thought to what my intimate life would look like after everything—because I didn’t expect to have a life when they were done with me—but I could never imagine it would be this. Not a savagely, brutal man that will likely split me in half while he is anything but gentle. Never this soon. Yet, there is no denying how every bit of my body reacts to him.
“Tomorrow,” he calls back to me from the far end of the attached fitness room, “we start training.”
Training?
eighteen
RAFAEL
One Week Later
“Again!” I shout. “Pick up the fucking knife, Lucia.”
I shouldn’t yell at her; I know I shouldn’t.
But I’m frustrated as fucking hell.
Short of sparring sessions, I haven’t laid a hand on her in a week. While I want to—Jesus fucking Christ do I want to—I don’t want to inadvertently coerce her into doing something that will only cause her more pain, though.
