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Rafaele’s mouth settled there, between her legs, and Sam’s breath came back, choppy. She felt too hot, too tight, too...sensitive.
‘Rafaele...’
But his tongue was on her now, exploring her sex, finding where she was so wet for him, opening her up, stabbing deep, making her moan uncontrollably, making her hips twitch. And then his tongue was replaced by his fingers, thrusting deep, and his other hand had found her breast, his thumb and forefinger pinching a nipple.
A broken scream emerged from Sam’s mouth—a feral sound. Her hips were lifting off the bed, begging Rafaele for more, for him to drink from her as she came...as she’d done to him. And then the pleasure was peaking and spiralling out of all control, wresting her sane mind from her brain and leaving behind nothing but heat and deep, boneless satisfaction, with his mouth on her right to the end.
Rafaele slowly came up and over her body. He pressed a kiss to her mouth and Sam could taste the essence of her desire on him. Could he taste himself on her? The thought ignited new fires deep down, diminishing her need to curl up and cling onto the boneless feeling. Sam was barely aware of being restrained now. She didn’t think she could have lifted her arms even if she’d wanted to.
And then Rafaele was sliding into her...deeply. Sam sucked in a breath, her eyes going wide. He looked down at her and all she could see was green. And heat. And broad shoulders damp with sweat. He moved back out...slowly. One arm came around her back, arching her into him, making one breast pout up towards him, so he bent his head and took it into his mouth, suckling fiercely as he thrust, going a little deeper, harder.
Sam gasped. It was too much. And now she did feel the restraints and she pulled against them. She needed to anchor herself to something. She felt as if Rafaele was going to drive her over the edge completely and she’d have nothing at all to hang onto.
But she couldn’t articulate any words. Rafaele’s chest against her breasts was delicious torture. The ruthless rhythm of his body in and out of hers drove her higher and higher. She could only look deep into his eyes, as if that alone could hold her to this earth.
Just at that moment something pierced her—anger at Rafaele, for reducing her to this mindless wanton, gasping and mute being. His powerful body was going so hard and deep now that Sam had to close her eyes, feeling as if a very secret part of herself was being bared to him in a way that she wasn’t ready for.
Rafaele’s voice was guttural. ‘Sam, look at me.’
But she couldn’t. He’d see it if she did. She’d never been laid so bare, made so vulnerable, and if she looked at him now he’d see how much she loved him—because she’d never stopped loving him. Even after all that had happened and the million reasons he’d given her for not loving him.
‘No,’ she said, equally guttural.
Sam heard his rough shout as he made his frustration clear, but both their bodies were locked in a primal dance now and they were equally unable to stop. They could only go on, until the tight grip of tension was shattered and they orgasmed moments after each other, Sam’s body convulsing around Rafaele’s thick length so hard that she could feel it. She was milking him, taking his very essence into her, and the feeling was so intense and powerful on top of this awful, excoriating vulnerability that tears pricked her eyes.
She turned her head away. Rafaele’s body was still within her, pulsing, slowly diminishing. She felt a tear slip down one cheek and finally managed to find the words she hadn’t been able to till now.
‘Untie me Rafaele.’
She was trembling from an overload of pleasure and the revelation of just how deep her feelings for him were, still.
‘Sam...’
‘Just untie me.’ Her voice sounded harsh to her own ears.
His hands reached up. She felt his arms and chest brush her body and she shivered convulsively against him. Even now. Deftly he undid the knots and Sam’s arms were free again, her wrists sore after pulling against the restriction. Terrified that Rafaele would see her emotions bared, Sam scooted out from under him and off the bed. She grabbed the nearest covering she could find, which was his shirt, and pulled it on and walked to the door.
She heard Rafaele curse behind her and say, ‘Sam, wait... Where are you—?’
But she was gone, walking blindly, on very wobbly legs, going anywhere that was away from his presence and his ability to reduce her to a melting mass of sensations and turbulent emotions. He’d wanted to dominate her and show her who was in control and he had done that beyond doubt. The eroticism of what she’d just been through felt tawdry now, as she imagined Rafaele coolly and clinically deciding how he would best show her who was boss. She had to get a grip before she faced him again.
* * *
Rafaele felt poleaxed. Self-recrimination rose upwards like bile. He would have an image burnt onto his retina for ever of Sam, with her hands bound above her head, her face turned away and a tear slipping down one cheek. He could still feel the strength of the pulsations of her body around his, and knew that it wasn’t pain or discomfort that had made her turn away.
His last moment of semi-rational thought, he remembered, had been just before he’d come into Sam’s mouth, his body thrusting against her, his hands holding her head so that he could— He cursed and got up off the bed, a restless jagged energy filling his body.
She’d always pushed him further than any other woman. He’d looked down at her when she’d taken her mouth from him—that wicked device of a torture more pleasurable than he could ever remember. She’d smiled at him and it had been full of something inherently feminine and mysterious... Rafaele’s first insidious thought had been...Did she do that with him? The lover she’d taken? Had he been the first to experience her mouth around him, taking him in so deep that he’d not been able to pull back but had gone to the brink and over it... Had she milked him the s
ame way?
The thought had made him see red. He’d felt exposed—far more exposed than just being naked in front of her. Vulnerable in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. It had had echoes of the past, when he recalled his mother looking at his father so dispassionately, even though he was broken, at her feet.
And suddenly Rafaele had wanted to regain control of a situation that was careening out of all control. He’d been losing it. So he’d bound her...so she couldn’t touch him and make him forget again...but he’d still lost it anyway. Tying her up had only heightened the experience, making it even more erotic, compelling...and it had done nothing but highlight the fact that even while restrained she exerted a power over him that he couldn’t deny.
He grabbed some clothes and pulled them on perfunctorily. Rafaele’s gut felt sick as he left his room. She’d been crying. He looked in her room first, but it was dark and the bed was untouched. Then he went downstairs.
He found her in the drawing room, standing at the window through which he could see a full moon hanging low in the sky. On Sam his shirt reached down to the backs of her thighs. Her legs were long and slim underneath. She looked incredibly fragile in the voluminous white material.
