Prologue #5
I whimper, unable to resist his demands, and a violent shudder ripples through me as my core clenches around his thick girth. Raf groans.
His fingers tighten around my hip as he thrusts harder, releasing an explosion of stars behind my eyelids.
“Good girl,” he rasps as I fall apart around him, my clit throbbing beneath his fingers, my walls milking his cock.
Then, without warning, he jerks out of me. Hot, sticky ropes spurt across my back, coating my skin, and I gasp, my insides turning molten. I hadn’t realized how erotic it might feel to have a man’s seed coating my skin.
Much safer than having him come in me, I suppose, though I’ll admit, naive as it might sound, I hadn’t really considered what to do about protection.
My cheeks warm, and when I turn my head to look over my shoulder at him, it steals my breath away.
His dark curls are damp with sweat and have fallen into a chaotic mess across his forehead.
His chest heaves, the sweat-slick skin glistening in the room’s dim lighting.
And each line of his hard muscles is pronounced by the shadows that fill the dips and valleys that define them.
But it’s his eyes that leave me speechless.
They burn into me with a heat that sears my very soul.
And the slow smile that curves his wicked lips is enough to drench my already dripping folds.
“God, you’re a masterpiece now,” he murmurs, his eyes skimming down my body to admire the cum he’s painted across my back. Leaning over me, he brushes a soft kiss across my cheek. “Stay put. I’ll get something to clean you up.”
I follow him with my eyes as he rolls off the bed, his body lean and powerful and perfect.
His shoulders are broad, waist tapered, his ass model-worthy as he stalks across the room.
With a groan of deep satisfaction, I stretch out on my stomach to watch him, appreciating the tattoos on his back I hadn’t noticed before.
They’re minimal, elegant—cursive script crawling up the length of his ribs and the words Family and Faith emblazoned along the line of his shoulder blades.
To my surprise, the only symbolic tattoo I see on his body is a tree of life—a distinctly Celtic symbol.
And it occupies the center of his back, the branches of the tree brushing the nape of his neck, the roots reaching to about the middle of his spine.
It’s framed by a circular Celtic knot, the entire image a tribute to her family’s heritage—even though Raf’s distinctly Roman features confirm he’s full-blooded Italian.
Nice tattoo.
The words are on the tip of my tongue as he opens a door and flicks on the light to illuminate a spacious bathroom, but I bite back the comment because the last thing I want to do is draw attention to the fact that I’m Irish.
I hear the sound of running water, then Raf returns, damp washcloth in hand.
Using my hands as a pillow, I watch him return, admiring the perfect cut of him as he settles onto the bed beside me and starts to wipe the cum off my back.
The washcloth is warm and soothing, and it feels dangerously good to have him clean me up after the relentless, passionate sex we just had.
My eyelids slide closed, staying shuttered longer than they should as a smile plays at my lips. “That’s nice,” I murmur.
Raf responds with a soft chuckle. “I might fuck like the devil, but I promise I’m only the son of one.”
That makes me laugh, and I open my eyes to find him smiling, even as his eyes remain fixed on his task.
“There.”
He gives my butt a playful swat as he finishes my ablutions, and I squeal, even as my core warms.
A pulse throbs at the peak of my thighs, and it brings me back to his comment before we got on the elevator, when I heard the pained sound of a woman, followed by a moan of pleasure.
Maybe he wasn’t messing with me when he said she wanted it.
A flicker of curiosity ignites in my belly.
But I couldn’t explore the possibility tonight even if I wanted to.
I’m already sore enough.
I’ll be surprised if I can walk straight on my way home.
Raf stands again, heading back to the bathroom to take care of the washcloth, and I moan in resignation as I sit up, then rise to find my clothes.
“Leaving so soon?”
Raf’s voice makes me jump, and I spin as I tug my dress back up my body, my cheeks warming guiltily as I find him leaning against the doorjamb to the bathroom.
Arms crossed, still completely naked, he looks perfectly at ease as his lips tilt into that charming crooked grin.
“I really should go,” I admit.
He tsks, pushing off from the doorframe to approach me.
On his way, he scoops up his pants, slipping into them and buckling his belt before he stops in front of me.
“I feel so taken advantage of. Just using me for sex and then taking off once you’re satisfied.
” His tone is playful, his hazel eyes dancing, but my heart skips a beat.
“Isn’t that what places like this are for?” I tease back.
Raf hums, his finger and thumb trapping my chin as he steps close, crowding me against the glass once more. “I suppose. Though I’ve never met a woman who was eager to leave once I was done with her. Don’t tell me I’m losing my touch.”
“It’s not that,” I confess, my body tingling with the memory of all the ways he made me come tonight.
Cheeks burning, I bite my lip, and his eyes drop to track the movement.
His thumb shifts to tug my lip free, his gaze warming as he runs the pad of his thumb over my freshly liberated lip.
“Then tell me when I can see you again,” he murmurs, his gaze flicking back up to burn into mine.
I had no intention of doing something this reckless again. I promised myself that one night of freedom—one night of rebellion—would be enough to satisfy my curiosity.
Besides, I have no clue whether I would even be able to sneak out of the house a second time.
It was a small miracle that I managed to do it once, and the odds that no one’s noticed my absence are slim to none.
But the thought of meeting Raf again, of exploring more of whatever this feeling is that he brings out in me… the idea of it is dangerously tempting.
“I… don’t know,” I admit.
“Well, I’m not letting you leave this room until you name a time and place,” Raf says, leaning in until our lips are mere inches apart.
A thrill ripples through my body at the dark promise of his words. And I find that I want to see him again. Far more than I should.
“Tomorrow night,” I breathe. “Same time. Same place.” I can only hope that I’ll be able to make that happen.
A slow smirk spreads across Raf’s beautiful face. “Good.” Then he leans in to steal one last scintillating kiss.