CHAPTER FIVE #2
He looks just as shocked as I feel that he was about to fuck me without one. I just met him tonight. Sleeping together without a condom would be irresponsible. He places a quick kiss against my lips.
“One sec,” he murmurs, letting me go so I can slide to the floor. “Don’t move.”
I stare at his ass he turns around, heading for a drawer in the room. He turns toward me with a condom wrapper in his hand and watching him tear it off and slide it onto his dick is the hottest thing ever.
He returns, all smooth with a confident smirk, “Where were we?”
“You were about to pin me against the wall and fuck me so hard that I’m screaming your name,” I remind him.
“That’s right, little siren.”
He lifts me up and my legs encircle his waist once again. I’m pushed against the wall and I’ve barely taken a breath before he’s pushing his length into me with one hard thrust.
My eyes roll into the back of my head. I moan from the feeling of fullness, and the way his cock stretches through me. My eyes are pulled towards his, meeting his hot gaze head on. I pull him even closer, unwilling to break the connection.
“Fuck me hard, Rafaelle. Don’t stop.”
“Don’t say things that make my heart race,” he snaps.
I’m too far gone to decipher that because he pulls out before slamming into me again. I let out a strangled sob, fire simmering within me.
“Fuck,” he groans. “You’re so fucking tight.”
“You feel so good,” I moan.
It’s like there’s something burning within me. A fire that can’t be consumed. I draw my nails down the length of his back and he growls, his pace growing even rougher.
He pounds into me with a furious recklessness that has my back slamming against the door over and over again. Heat swells between my thighs with each angry thrust.
“You’re not going to win,” he’s saying, rambling words I don’t understand. “I’m stronger than this. You won’t get me in your clutches.”
“Rafaelle,” I cry, rocking against his cock desperately. “I’m going to come.”
He kisses me then. My heart nearly explodes as he swallows any sound that could have escaped my lips. I come undone against him. I shut my eyes, feeling tears in the back of them.
When I open my eyes again, he’s staring at me so openly, a half lidded, chilling gaze matte black gaze should terrify me. But right now, all I can think about is the way he’s still fucking me. All I want is to bring him just as much pleasure as he’s brought me.
I grip his shoulders, kissing his jaw, his neck anywhere that I have access to.
“Let go, Rafaelle,” I murmur against his skin.
My tongue darts out to lick the bead of sweat on his chest.
“You want me to come, sweetheart?”
I can only manage a small nod which earns me a wolfish grin.
“You first,” he pants before reaching for my clit and stroking it. Once, twice.
I can feel another impending orgasm, know it’s going to take everything within me. A pleasurable ache spreads through me as I come for the third time with a scream just like he wanted me to.
I’ve barely come down from the pleasure when Rafaelle groans, “Fuck, I’m coming.”
I almost shatter again from the look of pure ecstasy on his face. His eyes are shut and his lips part as he comes. Hot bursts erupt within me, and it almost feels like an imprint I’ll never be able to get rid of.
After a couple of seconds, he looks down at me with so much heat I nearly combust there and then.
“We never even made it to the bed,” I state, amused.
“I’ll fuck you all you want in bed, Liliana. Just give me a few minutes.”
I feel like I’m in heat. After coming three times I should be exhausted, but I just want more of him.
He runs a hand through my hair before pulling out of me. When he looks down, his eyes grow wide.
“Fuck, the condom split.”
“You’re kidding!” I gasp.
My heart nearly stops. The evidence is right there for us both to see. A hole in the middle of the rubber around his dick.
“Fuck,” he exhales, running a hand through his hair.
“It’s fine,” I quickly say, refusing to allow that to ruin this night. “I’m on birth control.”
The words are only slightly a lie. I was on birth control, but I missed my last appointment because I couldn’t spare enough money to cover the co-pay. It’s fine though. These things happen all the time. It’s not like I’m going to get pregnant from a one-night stand.
“I’m clean,” Rafaelle quickly assures me. “I get tested monthly.”
And it’s sweet, I look up at him, my expression bright, “I’m clean too.”
“Alright,” he says. “So we’re good?”
I nod. In the next breath, a yawn escapes me. His lips twitch.
“I’m sleepy,” I explain with a laugh.
He nods in understanding, “You should sleep but let me clean you up first.”
He leads me to the bed and I sit up on it while he moves to grab a small towel from a drawer.
I yawn for the second time, watching him, feasting my eyes on his body.
Every movement he makes is inherently sexy.
When he returns, he crouches down, eyes filled with concentration and nothing more as he wipes my chest, between my legs. It’s very endearing.
“Lie down,” he says once he’s done.
I’m too tired to argue. My eyes feel droopy and it has officially been the most interesting day of my life.
I shift backward into the bed, placing my head against the pillow.
Rafaelle makes no move to join me which stings a little.
He crosses his arms over his chest, looking down at me with an expression I can’t quite decipher.
I do glimpse some warmth behind it, though.
My eyes flutter shut.
But then… the mattress dips.
My eyes flutter open just as Rafaelle settles over me, his massive frame eclipsing everything. The low light. The ceiling. The rest of the world.
He braces one forearm beside my head, his other hand curling possessively around my hip, and the intensity in his gaze chases every last remnant of sleep from my body.
“I thought you were going to let me sleep,” I murmur, my voice hoarse.
His lips graze my jaw, my cheek, the corner of my mouth. Unhurried like he has all the time in the world and intends to use every second of it against me.
“You don’t really think I waited all that time not to taste you again, do you?”
I bite my bottom lip, and something shifts in his expression. Something hungry. Barely leashed.
His mouth finds the hollow of my throat and drags lower, tasting me like I’m worth savoring slowly. A soft sound escapes me, and he answers with a low growl against my skin that I feel all the way down to my toes.
My fingers slide into his hair on instinct, gripping.
“Rafaelle.”
“Quiet,” he murmurs against my collarbone.
I go quiet.
He works his way back up my body with maddening patience, pressing his lips to every place that makes me shiver. The curve of my breast. The dip of my waist. The soft skin below my ear. Until I’m arching beneath him.
By the time his mouth finally meets mine, I’m breathless. I fist the sheets, my hips rolling toward him without permission.
He fills me in one slow, deep, devastating push.
I cry out, the stretch of him more overwhelming than before. Deeper somehow. Like he’s staking a claim he intends to make permanent.
My nails bite into his shoulders and his exhale shudders out of him, long and controlled. The sound of a man working very hard to hold himself together.
This time is slow. Purposeful. Devastating in an entirely different way.
His hips roll against mine in a rhythm that builds with quiet, relentless intensity, and he keeps his eyes open the entire time, watching me like he can see every secret I have ever tried to hide.
He covers me completely. His chest flush against mine, his weight a warm, immovable thing that presses me deep into the mattress until I feel every single inch of him. His breath against my lips. His heartbeat against mine.
I am, in every possible sense, consumed by Rafaelle Vitale.
He moves inside me with patience. With intention. Like he is rewriting something in me I won’t be able to take back.
And although it feels terrifyingly like more than just this night, I let him.
I come apart, his name dissolving on my lips like a secret. He follows shortly after, burying himself deep and going utterly still, a rough, broken sound pressed into my hair.
For a long moment, neither of us moves.
My body feels completely wrung out and warm and oddly, terrifyingly at peace.
Eventually, he shifts, drawing me gently against his side. My head finds the curve of his chest like it was made to rest there.
Sleep is already pulling at the edges of me, thick and insistent and impossible to fight.
“Now you’re ready for bed,” he says, his voice low and rough and achingly soft all at once.
I should probably say something. Argue. Roll my eyes. Pretend he hasn’t just ruined me all over again.
Instead, I close my eyes against his chest and let myself believe, for one reckless second, that this is where I’m supposed to be.
“I want it to be meaningful,” he murmurs after a few seconds. “When I tattoo the rest of my body, I want it to be something meaningful.”
The words are soft and a part of me isn’t even sure he spoke them. I don’t even realize he’s answering the question from earlier. The lull of sleep is too enticing, and although I want to ask him what he means, I find myself drifting off instead.
“Good night, little siren.”
* * *
When my eyes open the next morning, his are the first ones I see.
He’s sitting in a chair that wasn’t in the room last night, spread out like a king, his expression thoughtful, his eyes tired.
He’s wearing a pair of black joggers but no shirt leaving his chest bare.
I frown, sitting up in the bed pulling the covers with me as I look at him warily.
The memory from last night replays in my head, dulling my trepidation. But the sight of him looking like a predator waiting for his meal isn’t helping at all.
When it becomes clear he isn’t going to speak, I force some words out of my mouth.
“Were you staring at me all night?” He nods once in reply. “That’s very creepy,” I state, my heart pounding.