Chapter 18 Rafe #2
"You have no idea what you do to me," I growl against her skin. "How much I’ve fought this. How much I've wanted you."
Her fingers dig into my shoulders, her nails biting through the fabric of my shirt. "Then stop fighting it," she whispers, her voice thick with desire, "and take what you want."
The challenge in her words snaps the last thread of my control. I capture her mouth again, this kiss more brutal, more demanding than the last. She meets me stroke for stroke, her passion matching my own, and I know with terrifying certainty that there's no going back from this moment.
Her lips are swollen from my mouth. Her chest rises and falls rapidly, and I can see the pulse hammering at the base of her throat, the same pulse I just tasted, claimed.
The sight of her like this, disheveled and wanting and utterly mine, sends a surge of possessive satisfaction through me that should alarm me.
It doesn't.
Her dress, that slinky green fabric, is a goddamn torture. It’s still clinging, still teasing, still between us. I pull my mouth from hers, just enough to gasp for air.
"Get that goddamn dress off," I order. My fingers are already fumbling with the delicate straps, pulling them down, exposing more of her smooth shoulders, the swell of her breasts.
She doesn't hesitate. Her hands go to the zipper, tugging it down with a practiced ease, and the dress pools around her feet, a shimmering puddle on the marble.
She stands before me in nothing but a wisp of lace, a black bra, and matching panties. My eyes rake over her, drinking in every inch. Her breasts are full, rising and falling with her rapid breaths, the dark nipples already hard, pressing against the sheer fabric.
"Beautiful," I breathe, the word a raw whisper torn from my chest. My hands cup her face, thumbs stroking her cheekbones. Her eyes are half-lidded, glazed with desire, her lips parted, still swollen from my kiss.
I drop my hands, letting them slide down her body, over her shoulders, tracing the curve of her collarbones, the delicate hollow of her throat.
My fingers brush over the lace of her bra, and I feel the heat radiating from her skin.
I unhook it, and the black lace falls away, revealing her breasts, full and soft, tipped with dark, engorged nipples.
A low growl escapes me. I lower my head, my mouth closing over one, suckling hard, drawing her deep into my mouth.
She cries out, a sharp, sweet sound that vibrates through my chest. My hand goes to her other breast, kneading it gently, thumbing the hard peak.
She arches into me, her fingers digging into my hair, holding me to her.
I move between them, teasing, suckling, biting gently, until both are slick and swollen. Her body is trembling, her hips grinding against mine. I lift my head, my eyes meeting hers.
"Last chance to say no,” I tell her.
"Shut up and kiss me," she gasps.
That’s all I need. I sweep her up into my arms, her legs instinctively wrapping around my waist. She’s light, her body pliant against mine. I carry her into the master bedroom, the one I had prepared for her, the one she was just humming in, kicking off her heels. Now, it’s going to be ours.
I lay her gently on the vast, silk-covered bed, her body sinking into the plush mattress.
She’s still looking at me, her eyes shining with a mixture of desire and a hint of something wild.
I stand over her for a moment, just looking, letting the hunger build, letting the image of her splayed on my bed burn itself into my brain.
Then I’m stripping off my jacket, tossing it aside. My tie follows, then my shirt, buttons popping, revealing my chest and the tattoos that snake across my skin. I hear her breath hitch, and a primal satisfaction surges through me.
Let her see what she’s unleashed.
My belt buckle clinks as I unfasten it, then my pants and boxers are kicked to the floor. I stand naked before her, rock hard and ready, my eyes never leaving hers. She’s staring, her gaze lingering on my cock, thick and throbbing.
I climb onto the bed, crawling over her, my weight pressing her into the mattress.
She lets out a soft moan as I position myself between her legs.
Her panties are still on, a thin barrier of lace, a final tease.
I hook my fingers into the elastic, pulling them down slowly, dragging them over her hips, her thighs, until they’re gone.
Her legs part instinctively, inviting me in. I look down, seeing her pussy, already wet and swollen. My fingers brush against her clit, and she arches, a sharp gasp escaping her lips.
"You’re so wet for me," I mutter, my voice rough with adoration and lust. "So goddamn ready."
I lean down, my mouth finding hers again, a deep, bruising kiss that steals her breath. As I kiss her, I push, slowly, deliberately, the head of my cock pressing against her slick opening. She’s tight, so tight, but she’s giving, her body already yielding.
I push deeper, inch by agonizing inch, feeling her stretch, feeling the friction, the incredible heat. She whimpers into my mouth, her nails digging into my shoulders. I pull back from the kiss, just enough to look at her, her face flushed, eyes squeezed shut in a mixture of pleasure and pain.
"Look at me," I command. "Open your eyes, Nikki. Look at me. I want to watch you while I fuck you for the first time."
Her eyes flutter open, meeting mine.
With one powerful thrust, I bury myself deep inside her.
She moans, a raw, guttural sound that’s half pain, half ecstasy. Her body convulses around me, clamping down tight. I hold still for a moment, letting her adjust, letting her body mold itself around mine.
The feeling is beyond anything I’ve ever known, raw, primal, consuming. Every nerve ending in my body is screaming with pleasure.
Then I start to move, slowly at first, a deep, rhythmic thrust, pulling almost all the way out, then driving back in, deeper, harder. She meets my rhythm, her hips rising to meet mine, her legs wrapping even tighter around my waist, pulling me in deeper still.
The bed creaks under our combined weight, the silk sheets tangling around our legs. Her moans fill the room, echoing off the walls, a symphony of pure, unadulterated pleasure. I watch her face, contorted in ecstasy, her eyes squeezed shut again, her lips parted, gasping for air.
I pick up the pace, each thrust harder, faster, deeper. My body is a piston, driving into her, claiming her, marking her. Sweat beads on my forehead, drips onto her skin. Her nails rake down my back, leaving trails of fire.
“Rafe!” she gasps.
Her body seizes, a series of powerful contractions milking every last drop of pleasure from me. She cries out, her back arching, her hips bucking against mine. I feel her climax wash over me, the waves of pleasure radiating through her, and it pushes me over the edge.
With a final, guttural roar, I thrust deep inside her, emptying myself, my body shuddering, my muscles clenching. I collapse on top of her, my chest heaving, my breath ragged. Her body is still trembling beneath mine, her heart hammering against my chest.
We lie there for a long moment, tangled together, slick with sweat, the scent of sex heavy in the air. My face is buried in her hair, my lips pressed against her temple. I feel the frantic beat of her heart slowly begin to calm, mirroring my own.
I lift my head, looking down at her. Her eyes are still closed, her lips swollen, a faint flush on her cheeks. She looks… sated. And completely undone.
A possessive satisfaction spreads through me. I’ve never felt anything like this. This complete loss of control.
I pull out of her slowly, the separation a dull ache. She whimpers softly, stirring. I roll onto my side, pulling her against me, tucking her head under my chin. My arm wraps around her waist, holding her tight, possessively.
She sighs, a soft, contented sound, and snuggles closer, her hand coming to rest on my chest, fingers tracing the outline of a tattoo.
I stare at the ceiling, the glittering lights of Milan still visible through the panoramic windows. The city hums, just as it did before. But everything is different now.
I let her in.
I let her break me.
And the terrifying truth is, I don’t regret a goddamn thing.
This means something. She was right. And now, I have to figure out what the hell I’m going to do about it.
Because walking away? That’s not an option anymore.
Not after this.