Chapter 6 #2
Should say something cutting, regain the high ground. But I don’t. Can’t. I just watch him, every nerve in my body humming with confusion and heat. ‘You – you said to kiss it,’ I manage, my voice thinner than I want it to be.
He laughs, the sound dark and rough. ‘Didn’t say maul it, tigra.’ His gaze flicks over my face, hungry, unsettled. ‘You trying to get yourself punished? Or are you just reckless by nature?’
I don’t answer. My mind is spinning with too many variables, too many consequences.
What the hell is wrong with me?
He’s still watching me like I’m something he can’t quite figure out. Then he exhales through his nose and shakes his head, like he’s trying to break a spell. ‘You’ve gone and done it now, baby.’
‘What are you talking about? Done what?’
He grins, lopsided and lethal. ‘Need a fucking minute,’ he mutters, and he turns, walking towards the door on the other side of the room.
I collapse back on the bed, pulse pounding, body aching in all the wrong and right places. The flesh between my legs throbs with a tension I’ve never known, sharp, frustrating and utterly humiliating.
Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with me?
And worse – did he like it? Because if he did… what else would he like?
The thought sizzles through me. I’m a virgin. A trained killer. I’ve broken bones, sliced arteries, looked evil men in the eye while they bled out. But this? This game between us?
If Rafa doesn’t kill me first… I’m not sure I’ll survive him either way.
The sound of running water yanks me from my thoughts.
My breath catches when I realise he left the door open. A bathroom door that swings open and stays open. On purpose.
Because of course it is.
I tell myself it’s because he wants to keep an eye on me, but even I don’t believe that. The Enforcer is unhinged enough to get a kick out of… whatever this new game is.
I lie here, still restrained, my body buzzing from too many things I can’t name.
Don’t look. You don’t need to look. He wants you to. Maybe.
Which is exactly why I won’t.
But my eyes betray me the second I hear the low, unmistakable groan.
God… he’s not. Is he?
The glass is fogged just enough to blur the details, but not enough to hide the shape of him. The hints of sculpted back and tapered waist. Of an ass carved from marble and mouthwatering enough to make my fingers spasm.
One hand rises, braces on the tile wall, and even though his back is turned, I’ve watched enough porn and TV shows to know the other is working himself in slow, sure strokes, the timing between the back and forth estimating his impressive length.
My thighs clench and I gasp before I can stop myself.
Don’t fucking look!
He groans, and the sounds of Rafaelle Salvatore’s fist working his cock crests over the water and fills the room.
His head tips back under the spray. His mouth parts. Another groan, this one rougher, darker. My whole body tightens with heat.
‘You planning to keep watching or just memorising the sounds?’ His voice, low and rough, cuts through the steam.
My mouth goes dry even as my face flames. ‘I wasn’t watching,’ I snap.
He laughs, a low, satisfied sound. ‘Liar,’ he says, turning just enough that I catch the flex of his forearm, the ripple of muscle down his inked back.
‘I can feel your eyes on me. Normally I need a minute to get in the zone, but knowing you were watching… fuck, bedda.’ He shakes his head slowly.
Pins me with his dark brown, deeply unstable gaze. ‘Keep watching, baby.’
As if I can tear my eyes away. Sweet holy heaven. Save me.
Or not. In one unhinged thought I know I’ll fight… kill anyone who tried to stop this.
‘Sì, just like that,’ he rasps, eyes locked on me. His arm works faster. Faster. ‘Just like that.’
My pussy spasms, weeping with an alien emptiness, while my nipples protest their pain and lack of attention. For years I’ve convinced myself I’m missing nothing special by batting away male attention. Hell, even going as far as to teach a few assholes the meaning of no means no.
‘Nothing special’ is smashed to smithereens as my depraved would-be executioner uses me for his visual pleasure as he jacks off. As I lie there, needy and powerful and pissed off and enthralled, my hips commencing shadow rolls, chasing a high that is destined to be thwarted.
‘Fuck,’ he groans. Spins so his back is to the wall, the water hitting his powerful throat as he throws his head back, his eyes never leaving mine. ‘Fuck! I’m going to come so hard for you, duci tigra.’
He seems to choke on his own words, then his jaw sags on a gasp.
Then with a savage roar, Rafaelle’s body spasms as he unloads, grunting and groaning for a full minute.
And hell save me, it’s the most beautiful, hypnotic string of music I’ve ever heard, accompanied by a visual of steam and man so stunning I couldn’t look away if a nuclear countdown commenced next to my face.
I’m so caught it in it doesn’t even occur to me to make a move. Attempt escape. I’m lying there, stifling my gasps, when he steps out of the shower a moment later, towel loose around his hips, droplets clinging to his chest like he’s straight out of a sin-soaked fever dream.
My face flames higher, hot enough to burn. I want to disappear. Dive into the mattress and never come back out. God.
He catches my eyes and grins. ‘You be my good girl and I promise you’ll get yours too, bedda.’
I swear, I’ve never wanted to kill or kiss someone more.