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“How many other fingers have been in this pussy, Penelope?”
The violence in his tone tells any number greater than zero will be too many, but I want to avoid the subject of being inexperienced, so I turn to flippancy.
“Dunno. That’d be a lot of fingers to add up.”
That earns me a hard thrust into my pussy and a bite on my ass. My lids pop open, just in time to see the hand by my head curl around the bed sheet.
“I just killed a man for looking at you. Think I won’t kill a few more for having their fingers inside of you?”
Breathlessness sweeps through me and heightens my pleasure. “I’m just saying; that’s a lot of math at a time like this.”
He abruptly pulls his fingers away. A mix of hollowness and desperation replaces them, but it only lasts a few moments, then I hear thesnapof an elastic waistband and he pushes his length into me with one hard thrust.
My walls burn from the girth and the shock, tearing a cry from my throat. Raphael’s head follows mine to the pillow, coming to rest by my cheek. “How many dicks then, smart-ass?”
I let out a strangled sob in response and twist my head away from him. Behind me, I feel his stomach tense against my ass. He pauses, then pulls out slowly, almost the whole way, before entering me again with more caution.
When a light kiss touches the space between my shoulder blades, my spine goes rigid and something warm and unsavory fills the space inside my rib cage. The move is at odds with rough hands and the burning down south. He’s trying to be nice, to allow me to adjust to him.
I don’t fucking like it.
But after a few more lazy thrusts, my breathing slows, the fire simmering to a much more pleasurable heat. I adjust my weight to accommodate more of him, and with every slow slide and dark breath that skitters up my back, the ache in my core turns into a desperate pulse.
More,I want to scream.Fuck me like you entered me. Fuck me like you would all the other girls.
But I don’t have the humility to ask for it. Instead, I press my forehead into the pillow and arch my back, subtly trying to get him deeper.
A hand runs through my hair and pulls out my bun. Strands of red fall around my shoulders, then disappear from view as Raphael scoops them up into his fist and holds them at the base of my neck.
“How many dicks, Penelope?” he asks again, a softer edge to his tone this time.
Oh, so he’s serious about it. I’m set on telling him a lie. I want to piss him off. Want him to fuck me harder.
I tense my shoulders and brace for impact.
“Too many to count.”
A feral hiss coasts over my back as Raphael pushes inside of me with a violent, fire-starting stroke. My head bumps against the headboard, and when he thrusts into me again, his hand comes down on top of my crown.
I realize it’s to cushion the next blow. The move is too tender, toogentlemanly,and a spark of irritation flickers in my core.
I twist out of his grasp and look back at him. We lock eyes and my next breath stutters.
Fuck.He looks like a king. Every inked muscle contracting as he fucks me. I get it now, why he only fucks women from behind. He knows they wouldn’t survive watching him impale them, and if they did, there’s no doubt they’d want to get fucked again.
Other girls.In a moment of madness, I’d thought I wanted him to fuck me like he fucked them, but now, the idea fills me with bitterness.
As our eye contact deepens, he slows his thrusts and his gaze heats.
Annoyed my overworking brain decided to join the party, I rest on my forearms and slam my ass down the length of his dick.
“How many women have youfucked,Raphael?” I snap back.
His jaw tightens and he throws his head back, hissing something dark in Italian at the ceiling. He releases my hair and runs his hand down his throat. When his eyes fall back down, he glares at my ass like a maniac.
“Do that again.”
The sudden power reversal tightens my nipples. Through half-lidded eyes, I watch him watching me, as I slide all the way up to the tip of his dick and hold myself there. His gaze lifts to mine in confusion.
