Chapter Twenty-One Raffa #3
After believing I would never have her like this again and then knowing she was in enemy hands, perhaps never to be seen again, kissing her seemed like the only possible thing to do.
I could worry about the Venetian, the Pietras, Guinevere’s parents asleep in my family house just meters from where we sat, and the emotional aftermath of having her in my arms one last time tomorrow.
For now, there was only this.
This sprite of a creature made of earth and firelight writhing in my lap and taking her pleasure from me like it was owed to her.
I growled as she rubbed herself over my erection, back and forth in a sinuous rhythm that made my brain fizz between my ears.
“I want you to fuck me right here,” she said. “I want to take you inside me in the very place you feel like your worst self, knowing that I can handle it.”
The fierce words broke the leash on my control, and I surged forward, consuming her mouth with mine, pushing the hoodie off her shoulders before lifting the hem of her silk gown up to her hips so I could cup her pussy in one palm.
She was not wearing underwear, so the heat and damp of her arousal pressed intimately into my skin.
“You came out here wanting this,” I noted in a rough rasp.
Her head tipped back between her shoulders, exposing the pale column of her neck to my teeth and tongue.
“Yes,” she said with a little shiver, hands dropping to my waistband to deftly undo the belt, the button, the zipper so she could pull my rigid cock out into her hot fingers. Without hesitation, she curled her hand around my shaft and slotted me against her wet opening. “Scopami forte, Raffa.”
Fuck me hard.
“Anything you wish.” I reminded her of the promise I had made as I thrust forward, seating myself inside her velvet pussy.
She convulsed at the fullness, a moan unspooling from her open pink mouth.
When I pulled out slowly, she groaned in protest, winding her arms and legs around me like vines.
“Fuck me, please,” she said, an edge of true desperation in her words. “I want to feel you for days like this.”
Because you mean to leave me, I thought as something twisted brutally in my chest. I shot the thought dead, determined to enjoy this moment, this glorious shooting star of a woman, while I could.
So I fucked her.
Rabidly, ferally, like an animal that had been touch starved and alone too long.
The sounds of our coupling echoed through the barn, the wet slap of my balls against her ass, the wooden creak of the table as it shuddered under my driving hips, the high whine of Guinevere’s pleasured groans and gasps, and the rough huff of my breath as I fought to control the orgasm already nipping at my heels.
One of my bloodstained hands found her swanlike neck, the red stark against her paleness, smearing pink into the skin and the lace of her once-pristine white nightgown.
“Dirtying you up,” I grunted as I clasped her ass tight in my other hand, canting her hips to take me even deeper. “Love seeing all this innocence lost to me.”
Something flashed in her dark eyes as she reared up to nip hard at my lower lip, leaving a rent in the skin that beaded blood. With a lash of her tongue, she licked it clean, blood on her lips as she grinned at me, her cunt rippling around me as if she was aroused by the violent act.
By the metallic taste of my essence in her mouth.
“I was never innocent,” she argued with a smoky purr. “I was always yearning for this. Just waiting for you to teach me how to fuck and live and love in the dark.”
I gritted my teeth as her words poured gasoline on the flames in my gut. Pushing her down by the throat, I pinned her torso to the table, then watched her small breasts heave as I collected her legs over my arms and hoisted them to my shoulders.
Like this she was supine beneath me, splayed for my pleasure.
She hissed, arching off the table as my initial thrust hit the end of her and sparked the first quake of her orgasm.
“There it is,” I encouraged, driving into her harder. “You look so pretty coming apart around my cock, Vera. Not going to stop fucking you until you beg me to stop. You wanted the monster—here I am.”
She gasped as my hand tightened on her throat, cutting off just enough of her air to send the pleasure spiraling to another level. With my free hand, I pushed the nightgown even higher and started to play with her clit, rolling it like a slippery bead between my fingers.
“I-I can’t,” she struggled, thrashing against my hips as I drilled her into the table and forced her to take more and more pleasure.
“You can and you will,” I ordered in that blade-sharp voice that always made her shiver. “You have to earn my seed, Guinevere. Do you want it? Hmmm? Do you want my cum filling up this tight, hot little fica?”
Her mouth parted in a silent scream, every muscle in her lithe form tightening into stone.
I plucked once more at her swollen clit and watched as she transformed from solid into liquid, her limbs trembling into softness, her pussy pulsing wet and smooth around my still-thrusting cock.
She was a vision of ecstasy, a gorgeous woman turned into a masterpiece of pleasure.
All for me.
“Again,” I growled, almost mindless with the need to brand her inside and out with my essence.
“Raffa!” she gasped in protest as I hauled her up and into my arms so her full weight forced her down on my cock.
I sank my teeth into the side of her neck, licking up the salt-sweet taste of her skin as I started to shuttle her up and down my length. I had never been so hard, so desperate to sink deeper and fuck harder.
“Vieni per me,” she begged, loose as a rag doll in my hold but for the iron grip she had on my shoulders, nails digging into the muscle in a way I knew would mark me for days. “Come for me, Raffa. Fill me up.”
I fixed my teeth into the junction of her neck and shoulder, pinning her like an animal in place for me to fuck to completion. Her nails broke the skin beneath my shirt as she ground into me, peaking for the third time on an orgasm that ripped a war cry from her lips.
I followed her into the dark abysses of pleasure. The only thought in my head was of pumping her full of cum, marking her as mine in the most primal way I could.
When I finally drifted back into my right mind, I realized I had turned us to rest my hips against the table, Guinevere a heavy weight in my arms, her breath warm against my neck.
“Vera?” I called softly, because I had held her in sleep before and knew the familiar laxity of her body against mine.
“Mmm,” she mumbled, rubbing her nose into my throat as she settled even closer.
A smile pulled at my mouth.
After four days of dread and worry, my American girl was in my arms, trusting me enough to fuck her into a comatose state even with my bloodstained hands.
Even if she knew she would be leaving me again soon.
Careful not to disturb her, I tucked myself back into my pants and zipped them before draping the discarded hoodie over her shoulders and adjusting her weight in my hold. The barn was cool, but she was warm in my embrace as I carried her outside and up the hill to the house.
Someone had wisely kept the kitchen door off the terrace open for us even though the house inside was still and dark, most everyone in their beds.
I was carrying Guinevere through the open-plan kitchen and dining room when a cleared throat halted my progress.
My eyes adjusted easily to the dark, used to operating in the gloom, so it was not hard to detect John Stone sitting at the dining table with a glass of something alcoholic.
He stared back at me, eyes black pits like those of a skull in the night.
“She sleeps like the dead when she feels safe,” he said finally, his voice coarse with emotion. “Though I still don’t know how my sweet girl could trust someone like you, Romano.”
I would have shrugged if she was not in my arms.
“You saw what I did to get her back from the Pietras,” I said instead. “She trusts that there is nothing I would not do to make her safe and happy.”
“Even if ‘safe and happy’ means letting her go?” he asked.
“I could ask you the same,” I said, before continuing to the stairs.
Only when I was about to ascend beyond his vision did I stop to add, “She will never be rid of me, Stone. Even if she wants to go back to America, I will watch her the rest of her life to make sure nothing gets in the way of her joy. Even if that thing is you.”
John Stone said nothing as I carried his daughter to her bedroom and laid her carefully to rest, but I knew that was not the end of our feud.
Because John thought he was fighting for what was right for his daughter, thinking it was the same thing that was right for himself.
And I knew Guinevere was the only one who could make that decision.
As much as I wanted to use every ounce of my control and influence to make certain she made the only one I could live with.
Staying in the dark with me forever.