The partition lifts, and almost immediately, he pulls me onto his lap. His arms wrap around me, strong and unyielding, andhis lips find mine in a kiss that makes everything else fade away. I melt into him slowly, every nerve on fire, every thought of father, family, and betrayal slipping behind the wall of his strength.
He pulls back just enough to look into my eyes, breathing just a little heavier than before. “I need to know something,” he murmurs, voice low, intimate. “Are you… a virgin?”
I feel heat rise to my cheeks, embarrassment flooding through me. My heart hammers in my chest, but I nod, voice catching even though I don’t speak.
He smiles then, that slow, knowing smile that makes my knees weak. “It doesn’t matter to me if you are or not,” he says, pressing his forehead to mine briefly. “But I need to know, to make this easier for you tonight.”
The honesty in his words, the care, the quiet dominance that makes me feel safe—it’s intoxicating. He’s pleased, I can see it, in the tilt of his jaw, the spark in his eyes. Pleased he will be my first, that he will guide me, that he will claim me fully.
I let out a shuddering breath, nestling against him, feeling the tension of the day, and the promise of what comes next settle into my bones. One year. One chance.
He kisses me again, softer this time, teasing, patient. His hands move, gentle but firm, exploring just enough to remind me that I’m his. And I know, even with everything that’s happened, that I’m excited to see where this will go.
Raphael is experienced, he knows how to touch me to make me gasp and melt but when his fingers begin to pull down my underwear, I freeze.
“Trust me,” he whispers between kisses.
“I don’t want to do this in a car.”
“We won’t. But I want to taste you.”
Scared and feeling out of control, I glance at the partition. “The driver?”
Raphael shakes his head as my panties slide down my legs. “He can’t hear or see us.”
He tilts his head, capturing my lips again, slower this time, deliberate, like he’s mapping every inch of me with his mouth. My chest tightens, heart hammering, and a rush of warmth spreads through me—fire igniting from the tips of my fingers, down my arms, curling low in my stomach. I want to pull him closer, to feel more of him, but my mind fights to keep pace with my body, terrified of what “more” could mean, yet craving it anyway.
His hands cradle my face, thumbs brushing my cheekbones, and I melt into the touch, lips parting instinctively. Every kiss teases, lingers, leaves me dizzy and disoriented. I can feel the warmth of his body pressed against mine, the strength in his arms anchoring me even as desire coils tight inside me.
I want to lose myself in him, completely, but a part of me hesitates. A whisper of doubt, of fear, of the one-year promise he made—not a lifetime yet, not fully his. My chest swells with longing, my knees weaken, and I let out a shuddering breath I can’t control. He senses it. I can feel his smirk against my lips, the confidence that comes with knowing exactly the effect he has on me.
His tongue traces mine just enough to send sparks crawling up my spine, and my body responds instantly, hot, alive, aching for something I can’t name. My hands clutch at his shoulders, gripping, seeking, wanting—yet my mind reels with the uncertainty of what “more” might mean.
He pulls back slightly, resting his forehead against mine, just long enough for me to catch my breath, for the ache of wanting to twist through me.
His lips brush my ear as he murmurs, low, intoxicating, “You’re already mine, Sophia. One year… we’ll figure out the rest.”
I can only nod, trembling slightly, warmth radiating through me, my pulse wild and unsteady. My body still burns, still aches for more kisses, more contact, more of whatever it is he can give me, but the precise shape of it remains a delicious, frustrating mystery.
Every time his lips find mine again, I lose myself just a little more—wanting more, needing more, yet terrified of the surrender it implies. Raphael knows he’s my first. I know he will guide me. And yet, I’ve never felt anything like this, and the pull is relentless, dizzying, overwhelming in the best way.
I gasp softly against him, a mix of shock and yearning, as my body continues to warm, ache, and melt under the pressure of his kisses. My mind can’t name it, can’t define it—but my body knows. It wants him. All of him.
And I’m terrified—and desperate—to see what comes next.
Raphael lays me gently across the back seat of the limousine, his movements slow, deliberate, never rushing me. The soft leather creaks beneath me as I shift, heart hammering. He shrugs off his jacket, tosses it aside, then pulls his shirt loose from his pants. The dim overhead light catches on the edge of his wedding band as his hands move.
My own hands move before I think, sliding up under the material of his shirt. Heat radiates from his skin. My fingers trace the firm planes of his chest and back, feeling the tension coiled there like a live wire.
He leans down, undoing the first buttons of my blouse, his mouth brushing a trail of kisses between my breasts, lower, over my stomach. When he lifts my skirt, a jolt of fear and panic floods through me, sudden and overwhelming. My hands fly to his head, tangling in his hair, halting him.
His eyes flick up to mine instantly, dark and steady. “Relax, Princess.”
“I don’t… I don’t want my first time to be in a car,” I blurt out, voice trembling.
He stops completely, sitting back just enough to give me space. “I’m not going to fu—” He cuts himself off, jaw tightening, then softens. “I’m not going to make love to you in a car.” His thumb strokes my hip gently. “But I want you to experience what it feels like before we have sex.”
My heart thuds harder. “What… what feels like?” The words are barely a whisper.
