Chapter 31
Rafe
Real. A promise I'd never thought I'd make to anyone. Now, with Cecelia’s naked body pressed against me, that promise felt like the only truth that had ever mattered.
I deepened the kiss, my tongue sliding against hers as my hands roamed the smooth expanse of her back to pull her closer until there was no space left between us.
She melted against me, fingers threading through my hair, tugging just enough to send sparks racing down my spine. The soft sounds she made in the back of her throat drove me wild—little whimpers that vibrated against my mouth as I backed her against the kitchen island.
"Rafe," she gasped when I finally released her mouth to trail kisses down her neck.
"I want real," I murmured against her skin, nipping at the spot where her pulse fluttered wildly beneath my lips. "I want everything. With you."
She pulled back enough to look at me, those green eyes blazing with an intensity that stole my breath. Whatever she saw in my face must have satisfied her, because she gave me a smile that was pure seduction before placing her palms flat against my chest and pushing.
I stepped back, confused for a moment until she sank to her knees in front of me, hands sliding down my torso as she went. My breath caught in my throat at the sight of her—naked, on her knees, looking up at me with those wide, mischievous eyes.
"My turn," she whispered as her fingers hooked into the waistband of my sweatpants.
I couldn't have formed words if my life depended on it. All I could do was watch as she slowly, torturously slowly, pulled the fabric down my hips, freeing my already hard cock. The gray sweatpants pooled at my ankles, and I kicked them aside.
She licked her lips, the gesture so unconsciously erotic I nearly groaned. She wrapped one delicate hand around my base and the contrast of her pale skin against mine made my cock twitch in her grasp.
"I've thought about this," she admitted as she stroked me once, twice. "About taking you in my mouth. Tasting you."
"Fuck, Cecelia," I managed, voice strangled as she leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to the head of my cock.
She hummed against the sensitive skin, then looked up at me through her lashes. "Is that a yes?"
"Yes," I hissed, hands already moving to tangle in her dark hair. "Fuck, yes."
Her smile was victorious as she parted her lips and took the head of my cock into the wet heat of her mouth.
I nearly lost it right then. The warmth, the pressure of her tongue as it swirled around the tip, it was almost too much.
My fingers tightened in her hair, holding on for dear fucking life as she worked me like it was the only thing she was put on this planet to do.
I couldn't tear my eyes away from the hypnotic sight of my cock disappearing between those perfect lips. When she hollowed her cheeks and sucked hard on the upstroke, I let out a string of curses that would've made a sailor blush.
"Just like that." The words came out rough. "Your mouth feels so fucking good."
She moaned around me, the vibration sending fresh jolts of pleasure up my spine. Her free hand moved to cup my balls, rolling them gently between her fingers in a way that had my thighs tensing with the effort not to thrust too deeply into her mouth.
"You have no idea how you look right now," I told her, brushing a strand of hair away from her face so I could see her more clearly. "On your knees for me. Taking my cock so fucking perfectly."
Her eyes darkened at my words, pupils dilating until there was barely a ring of green left. She took me deeper then, relaxing her throat until I felt the head of my cock hit the back. The tight, wet pressure was almost unbearable.
"Fuck, Cecelia," I groaned, fighting the urge to finish on the spot. "If you keep that up, I'm going to come down your throat."
She pulled back, replacing her mouth with her hand for a moment. "Would that be so terrible?"
The image of her swallowing my release, of those green eyes locked on mine as she took everything I had to give, nearly pushed me over the edge. But no, that wasn't how I wanted this to end. Not tonight.
"No," I admitted, "but I want to be inside you when I come."
She considered me for a moment, then leaned forward again, maintaining eye contact as she licked a slow, deliberate path from base to tip. "Later, you can do that later," she promised, before taking me in her mouth again.
This time her movements were more determined, more focused. The onslaught had my vision blurring at the edges, pleasure building at the base of my spine with alarming speed.
I was so fucking close. Too close. My hands tightened in her hair as I tried to pull her away before I lost all control.
"Enough," I growled, the word closer to a plea than a command. "I need to be inside you. Now."
She released me with a final, lingering suck that nearly had me seeing stars. Before she could say anything, I reached down and hauled her to her feet, my movements urgent and none too gentle. She gasped as I spun her around and lifted her onto one of the high stools in a single, fluid motion.
"Spread your legs for me," I commanded.
She complied immediately, thighs falling open to reveal her pretty pussy. I ran my fingers up her center, groaning at how wet she already was. "This for me?" I asked, circling her entrance with my my fingertip. "This because of sucking my cock?"
"Yes," she breathed, her hips tilting upward into my touch. "I like how you taste. How you feel in my mouth."
With another groan, I positioned myself at her entrance.
"Look at me." I waited until those green eyes locked with mine.
"Don't look away. I want to see you." I pushed forward, entering her in one smooth thrust that had us both gasping.
The sensation of her tight, hot pussy engulfing me without any barriers between us sent sparks racing down my spine.
"Fuck," I hissed, my forehead dropping to rest against hers for a moment as I fought for control. "You feel so fucking good, Cecelia."
I pulled back until just the head remained inside her, then thrust forward again with measured control.
Her back arched at the sensation as a small cry escaped her lips.
I established a slow, deliberate pace, watching her face for every flicker of pleasure, every subtle change in her expression.
Her eyes stayed locked with mine, just as I'd commanded, creating an intimacy that was almost more overwhelming than the physical sensation.
"That's it," I murmured, one hand moving to grip her hip, the other bracing against the counter behind her. "Take all of me."
With a small moan, she wrapped her legs around my waist and pulled me deeper. The position shifted the angle and allowed me to hit a spot inside her that drove her wild.
"Yes," she whimpered. "Right there. Don't stop."
I couldn't have stopped if I'd wanted to.
The sight of her on that stool, legs wrapped around me, pussy gripping my cock like she never wanted to let go was the most erotic thing I'd ever seen.
I increased my pace slightly, still maintaining that deep, grinding rhythm that had her gasping with each thrust.
"You're so beautiful," I told her. "The way you take me. The way you look at me. Like you see everything."
Her hands moved from my shoulders to my face, cupping my jaw with a tenderness that contrasted sharply with the rough pace of our fucking. "I do see you," she whispered. "All of you."
Something cracked open inside my chest at her words. I leaned forward to capture her mouth in a kiss that was more emotion than technique, all teeth and tongue and desperation. She responded immediately, her tongue tangling with mine as her inner walls clenched around my cock.
"I'm close," she gasped against my mouth. "So close, Rafe."
I moved one hand between our bodies to circle her swollen clit, matching the rhythm of my thrusts. "Come for me."
Her breathing quickened, short little pants that fanned across my face as I continued to drive into her. When she finally shattered, it was with a broken cry of my name, her eyes wide and unfocused but still locked with mine. The sight of her coming undone triggered my own release.
"Fuck, Cecelia," I groaned, hips jerking with the force of my orgasm. "So good. So fucking perfect."
For a long moment, we stayed like that, foreheads pressed together, breath mingling as we came down from the high. I could feel my release leaking out of her, dripping down her thighs and onto the stool, and the primal part of my brain took fierce satisfaction in that.
Pulling back, I took a proper look at her. Her eyes were soft and slightly dazed. I brushed a strand of hair away from her face and gently tucked it behind her ear.
"You okay?" I asked.
A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "More than okay," she assured me. "Though I'm not sure my legs work anymore."
Chuckling, I pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Good thing you don't need them." Before she could question my meaning, I scooped her up in my arms. She let out a squeak of surprise even as her arms automatically wound around my neck.
"Rafe! What are you doing?"
"Taking care of my wife," I said, carrying her through the penthouse toward the master bathroom. I shouldered open the bathroom door and set her carefully on her feet beside the shower.
"Stay," I instructed as I turned to adjust the water temperature. When I was satisfied, I turned back to find her watching me with a mix of amusement and affection that made my heart do strange things inside my chest.
"Are you always this bossy after sex?" she asked.
With a grin, I tugged my t-shirt over my head and dropped it to the floor. "Only when it matters."
Her eyes tracked the movement, darkening slightly as they took in my exposed chest and abs. "It matters?"
Stepping closer, I cupped her face between my palms. "You matter," I corrected, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. "This matters."
The vulnerability in her eyes nearly undid me. I guided her into the shower, the hot spray enveloping us in a cloud of steam. I reached for the body wash, pouring a generous amount into my palm before lathering it across her shoulders.
"You don't have to do this," she protested weakly, though she made no move to stop me.
"I want to," I assured her, my hands working the soap into her skin with firm, steady strokes.
I took my time, mapping every curve, every dip and hollow of her body with my hands.
When I reached her breasts, I paid special attention to them, cupping their weight and running my thumbs over her nipples until they hardened into tight peaks again.
Sighing. she arched into my touch. "That feels amazing."
I continued my exploration, hands sliding down her stomach, over her hips and finally between her thighs. I was gentle here, mindful of her sensitivity after our vigorous activities. She winced slightly when my fingers brushed against her swollen flesh, but didn't pull away.
"Sorry," I murmured, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. "Too much?"
She shook her head. "No, just... sensitive. In a good way."
I finished washing her, then stepped back to let the spray rinse the suds from her body. The sight of water cascading down her curves, highlighting the marks I'd left on her skin—finger-shaped bruises on her hips, a darkening spot on her neck—sent a fresh wave of possessiveness through me.
Mine, some primitive part of my brain insisted. She's mine.
Once she was rinsed clean, I reached for the shampoo, but she stopped me with a hand on my arm.
"My turn," she said, echoing her earlier words as she took the bottle from me.
I bent slightly at the knees to make it easier for her to reach my head, and work the shampoo into a lather against my scalp.
The feeling was so unexpectedly intimate, so tender, that I had to close my eyes against the emotion welling up inside me.
We finished washing each other in companionable silence, trading soft touches and occasional kisses that held none of the earlier desperation but all of the affection.
By the time we stepped out of the shower, I felt different somehow, lighter, as if some weight I hadn't even known I'd been carrying had been lifted from my shoulders.
I wrapped Cecelia in one of the plush towels from the warming rack, taking my time to dry her thoroughly. She leaned into my touch, eyes half-closed with contentment, like a cat being petted. When I was satisfied that she was dry, I scooped her up in my arms again.
"I think my legs actually work now," she pointed out.
"I know." I carried her through to the bedroom, where the king-sized bed waited. "But this is better."
I gently placed her on the bed, then shed my own towel before climbing in beside her. Our bodies naturally gravitated toward each other, limbs tangling until she was curled against my side and her head rested on my chest.
"Thank you," she murmured, voice already heavy with approaching sleep.
"For what?"
"For cooking dinner. For making me come twice. For carrying me to bed like I'm something precious." She tilted her face up to look at me, those green eyes serious in the dim light. "For wanting something real."
I tightened my arm around her waist, pulling her more securely against me. "Thank you for the same," I whispered. "Minus the cooking."
Her laugh vibrated against my chest, and I couldn't help but smile. I pressed a kiss to the top of her head and breathed in the clean scent of her hair.
"Sleep now," I told her, my own eyes growing heavy. "We have time for everything else."
As she drifted off in my arms, I marveled at the turn my life had taken.
When I'd proposed this arrangement, I'd thought I knew exactly what I wanted.
What I needed. But Cecelia had upended all my careful plans, all my defensive walls, until I found myself wanting things I'd never allowed myself to consider before.
A real marriage. A real life together. A future that extended far beyond the terms of our original agreement.
And as sleep claimed me, I knew with absolute certainty that I'd do whatever it took to make that future a reality. To make us real, permanently. Because I wasn't letting her go. Not now. Not ever.