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“Say please.”
Ba-dum. Ba-dum.Two heartbeats pass, threatening to crack open my chest. For the stupidest of moments, I think he might actually say it.
It only takes another moment to realize I’m more stupid than I thought.
His hands grip my hips so tightly they threaten to bruise my skin. He plows himself into me without restraint or mercy, sending my eyes to the back of my head.
“Please?” I hear him growl. “You want me tobeg?”
Heat swells between my thighs with every angry thrust. Fuck, I’m so intoxicated by fullness andmanI fear I might overdose on it. I bury my head into the pillow and bite down on the fabric for all of three seconds, until another hiss touches my ears and fingers weave into my hair.
Raphael tugs my hair so hard I’m pulled into an upright position in his lap. My back lands against his hard chest, my thighs flush with his.
“Do I look like a man who begs, Penelope?” he snarls, yanking down the straps of my vest top and bra. He folds down the cups and then, with a frustrated grunt, unhooks it at the back and hurls it out of view.
Briefly, I’m taken back to a rain-soaked car,Driving Home for Christmascrackling on the radio. In what parallel universe did Raphael Visconti give me a black Amex in exchange for taking my bra off?
As soon as the cool air touches my bare breasts, he warms them in his busted hands, molding them to his liking. My nipples ache with the need for attention, and I’m not disappointed when he squeezes them between his thumb and forefinger.
“Fuck,” I moan, throwing my head back against his collarbone. I grind against his cock, relaxing myself until he’s so deep inside me my ass is flush with his base.
He wraps an inked forearm around my waist, pinning my body to his. His other hand gives my breast a final squeeze before sliding down to my clit.
The second he presses two fingers against it, I know it’s game over. He strokes up and down, stoking the flames in my lower core until they threaten to set me ablaze.
I rock against his cock and push against his fingers, desperate to chase the high. “Don’t stop,” I breathe, rolling my head to the side when Raphael’s teeth carve an electric path up my throat. “I’m gonna—”
My eyes pop open as his fingers leave my clit.
“What are you—?”
“Sayplease,”he mocks.
I slow the roll of my hips, absorbing his words.You have got to be shitting me.
I’m so high, sofeverish,that, although I’m too stubborn to say please, I’m also too desperate to argue. Instead, I bring my own hand between my thighs.
Raphael catches my wrists in one hand and roughly pulls them above my head. A dark chuckle vibrates my back. “Nice try.”
He brushes his knuckles against my throbbing clit, building a slow-moving tremor again. “Say please, Penelope.”
I wrestle against his grip, but it’s immovable. “Fuck off.”
“I don’t know what language that is, but it’s not how you say please in English.”
My breaths quicken as the pressure builds again, and for a maddening moment, I think he’s forgotten his stupid game. But when my nails dig into his thigh and I let out a cry, he withdraws the pressure.
“No,” I whimper.
“Say it.”
“No—”
When he rubs me again, I shake my head in panic, knowing I can’t deal with what’s coming.
“Don’t stop.”
“What’s the word, Penelope?”
