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“What?”
When he bent down, her heart seemed to plummet all the way into the pit of her gut, where it throbbed dully. “I’m telling you to go fuck yourself, Donni,” he said. “Because I didn’t say it to you yesterday, and I want you to do it now.”
She backed up—or tried to—and only ended up pressing herself even more firmly against the fridge door. The cold metal seared her through her suddenly too-thin shirt.I want you to do it now. Oh, God. That heavy weight in her belly seemed to trickle down, turning her knees to water.
“Didn’t you get enough of that as an eighteen-year-old creep?” she spat, trying to hide the effect his words were having on her.
“Oh, Donni,” he said darkly. “I could never get enough of you. That’s why I’m here.”
Fuck.She closed her eyes, putting space between them the only way she could. “What doIget?”
“I’ll pay for these groceries we both know you can’t afford,” he said, which made her open her eyes just in time to catch his brief, satisfied smile. “And I’ll cut you a check to use as a retainer for the lawyer you’ll have very soon.”
It was a good deal and she knew it. Hadn’t she bemoaned her spending on the car ride home? She was being paid in fuckingexposurewith most of her sponsorships, as well as product, which she could use but wouldn’t put food on the table. You couldn’t live off mascara.
He was exploiting her, yes, but she had known, deep down, what the cost of his help would be, even if she hadn’t been willing to admit it to herself. Because she was exploiting him, too. And even though it shouldn’t have mattered, the fact that she had initiated things instead of the other way around made it a little easier to swallow; he had come down here because of her.
I still have some control.
Donni folded her arms and felt the rapid flutter of her heart against her forearm. He was still close enough that her elbow brushed the softer, hairless skin of his inner arm, and he jerked at the touch, visibly startled for a moment before he retained his iron composure.
Yes, she still had some control. Even if all she could do was make him want her.
It was a start.
“Close the drapes,” she said abruptly. “And turn down the dimmer.”
Rafe turned to obey while she unfastened her bra and yanked it out through her sleeves before hurriedly tugging down her sweats and underwear.Just get your clothes off, she told herself,and he won’t notice anything else.
Except she didn’t quite believe that, because Rafe had made it painfully clear that he noticed far, far too much.
She closed her eyes, deciding that would make things easier. It was how she usually got off anyway, alone in the dark, listening to Dido or Alicia Keys. Mindful of her nails, she dipped her fingers inside herself while gently rolling back the hood of her clit with the other hand. The sting of cool air on her sensitive skin sent a not-unpleasurable frisson through her body.
Donni glanced down to see a very intent-looking Rafe sitting on his knees, staring at her hands with such heated concentration that it made her feel as if she might burst into flame. She sucked in a breath at that look, because it made her understand what it was to be a butterfly with a pin thrust through its heart, displayed in such a way that no flaw or feature, no matter how ugly or beautiful, could ever be hidden from view.
She let her eyes slide shut again, turning her face towards the fridge as she rubbed her clit in slow circles beneath her slick fingers. The other hand she let drift beneath the hem of her top, bringing up the fabric with her until she was cupping her breast. Ripples of sensation strummed through her like a plucked harp and her breathing grew shallow as she tweaked her nipples. She heard him suck in when she pinched one, rolling it between her fingers in unconscious imitation of his cruelty.
How would he touch her? Was he as vicious as his books suggested? Or would it be more like he had touched her in the car—rough and overeager? He’d bitten her, and left a few fading marks on her skin. She thought of that hand on her neck while she had sucked his cock, and how he had stroked her nape after being so careful with her hair, even when he was pulling on it. Gentleness didn’t seem to come easily to him, and when it did, it was couched in savagery.
How would it feel to have a man like that inside of her? Bruising her neck with his teeth and his hands while he fucked her senseless? Bending her over and taking her from behind? The thought should have scared her, but it excited her, too. Which just showed how fucked in the head she really was, given what she had been through.
She rubbed harder, bucking her hips until that fiery sweetness began to lose its edge, becoming an unsatisfied ache that begged for something more. She very nearlydidwant to be fucked then, in a way she had never truly let herself want since Johnathan. The sight of Rafe’s bared body had turned her on in the car; he was well built, and had an economy of movement that was powerfully attractive. A man of Rafe’s size might hurt her, yes, but maybe he’d only fuck her into the kind of slow surrender where even defeat was a kind of ecstasy.
With a faint cry, she threw her head back, barely noticing when it knocked against the fridge. Keeping herself pinned beneath her fingers while still riding the throes of her first orgasm, she made herself come again.Too much, she thought, her chest heaving, yearning for the same things that had already destroyed her once.But oh God, it’s not enough.
She slumped back against the fridge and her T-shirt slid down to cover her. Keeping her hand over herself, cupping her heat, she glanced at Rafe with a start. He was no longer on his knees. He had gotten to his feet and was walking towards her in a way that turned the sweat on her skin to ice. The sound that came out of her mouth was pure, animal fear.
No, she wanted to say, but she was still too breathless to speak.You promised.
But this was what happened to girls who played dark games; they lost to the men who played them better.
It happened every time.
“Please,” she choked out, bringing him to an abrupt halt.
Something shifted in his expression. From another man, she might have called it pity, but she knew Rafe wasn’t capable of that. He stroked her chin, letting his fingers feather over her cheek, her parted lips, so feather-soft that she barely felt it.
Maybe it won’t be as bad as you think.
