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“I can’t—”
“Just fucking say it.”
“Please.”
It escapes my lips in a desperate, breathy whimper, and even as Raphael’s fingers rub me harder and faster, I know the sound of it will haunt me later.
Right now, though, I couldn’t give a flying fuck. Delirium explodes through my veins, eating up all the oxygen in my blood. The fire rages hot then cools to a lethargic warmth, filled with relief.
My head falls heavy against Raphael’s chest, and his strokes against my pussy grow soft and gentle. His breathing slows.
“Good girl,” he whispers, planting a tender kiss on my neck.
Good girl.I don’t hate that he calls me that; I hate how it blooms in my chest like a flower. Then its petals wilt, rotting my insides, and I squirm to get it out of me.
Painfully aware of his rock-hard cock still pulsating inside of me, I know I need to fuck the feeling away. I need to bring the man to an orgasm, if only to level the playing field and make him come as undone as I just did.
He lets me push his arm off my waist and drop forward on the pillow. His thighs flex against mine, and I twist to look at him.
He regards me with dark, suspicious eyes. When I slide up his dick again, he turns his attention to my ass and takes a slow, deep breath. I’ve learned my lesson—I wouldn’t get apleasefrom this man even if he was trying to stop me lighting the world on fire—but the way he grinds his teeth as he watches his length disappear inside me is almost worth it.
He lets out a noise of satisfaction. Gives a small shake of his head.
“You’re perfect. You know that?”
My heart churns. Right now, I need steel, not silk. I move to look away, but he grips my jaw to keep me there. With his other hand, he grabs the top gathered on my waist and uses it like a handle to push himself deeper inside me.
“You want to know how many women I fucked,” he grinds out.
“No,” I whisper. Truthfully, I’d rather pour hot wax in my ears than hear the answer.
He laughs darkly. “Good, because I have a better number. How many times I’ve fucked my fist thinking about you.”
A languid fascination drifts through my core. My tender clit starts thumping again. Christ. A man like Raphael doesn’t get himself off, not with a fist nor with my panties. It’s so primal. Souncontrolled.
I burn with the need to know more.
“How many times?”
He rakes his teeth over his bottom lip, eyes glinting. “Too many to count.”
Well, I guess I deserved that answer. I arch my back deeper, my nipples grazing against the bedding and igniting a fresh heat within me. “What do you think about?” I whisper.
He pulls from my jaw and rakes both hands down the side of my body, tracking his movements. “This isn’t far off, Queenie.”
I half moan, half laugh. “Dreams really do come true, hey?”
He glares at me, but amusement softens his irises. “You talk a lot less shit when I fuck you in my dreams.”
Before I can think of a witty response, he winds his hand into my hair and pushes my face down into the pillow. Clearly, he’s done entertaining me. A strangled moan escapes my lips with every thrust, and when he picks up ferocity and pace, punctuating each stroke with callous Italian, molten heat spreads throughout me.
“Fuck, Penny,” is the last muttered oath that slides from his lips before the wall of his stomach tightens against my ass and a different type of warmth fills me.
As I melt into the bedding, body slack, Raphael’s weight comes down on top of me. He’s heavy and all-consuming, and I find that I don’t mind one bit.
My lids flutter shut for the briefest of moments. I listen to his heartbeat thump slightly out-of-sync with mine. Feel his breath cool the sweat on my nape. When his touch softens on my hip and he slips out of me, he plants a hot kiss on my neck.
“You were amazing.” The bed dips, and thesnapof elastic as he pulls up his boxers echoes in my ear. “Unfortunately,” he adds bitterly.
