Chapter 23
Annamaria
Nineteen years old.
For the past few months, we’ve been FaceTiming each other every night nonstop.
Though, is it really FaceTiming if neither of us shows our faces?
Sigh.
The only downside to our late-night phone sex is the fact that Raffaele is adamant about never showing his face, so as punishment, he doesn’t get to see mine either.
Though I doubt it’s much of a punishment since he gets to see everything else.
How my hand travels down my breasts, in between my thighs, the way I come for him.
I always come for him. Which doesn’t seem hard for him to do, since every night he awakens things in my body I never even thought possible.
I’m pretty sure his voice alone could make me see stars.
However, for all the pleasure he gives me, he’s never once asked for anything in return, so tonight, I want to change that. Unfortunately for me, it looks like he’s going to need some convincing.
“There’s no need, sweetheart. I’d rather focus on you,” he coos after I’ve stated my case.
“That hardly sounds fair, don’t you think? If we’re in this together, then shouldn’t both of us get something out of it?”
“I get plenty out of just watching you come. Trust me,” he says, his gravelly voice low and sinful.
I hate to admit it, but I’m kind of glad that whatever stubborn cold refuses to leave him has persisted this long. His deep, raspy voice has become the soundtrack that spurs all my waking fantasies.
“Please? I want to see you. All of you,” I whimper.
“No, sweetheart. Not tonight.”
“Then when?”
“Soon. Hopefully.”
“That’s not good enough. I want to see you. Touch you, tonight.”
“No, Anna.”
“If you tell me no again, we’re done here. I’m serious. I’ll hang up right now. I might not even pick up tomorrow, either,” I warn, hoping he doesn’t call my bluff.
“There she is.”
“There who is?” I retort in annoyance.
“You, cara mia. My little brat. You always get bratty when you’re horny, baby.”
Is that what I am? Horny?
It’s true I’ve never been one for brattish behavior, and I only seem to act like this when he denies me something, whether it’s a kiss, his touch, or, in this case, letting me touch him.
Still, even if that is the reason behind my insistence, shouldn’t that tell him how much I want this? How much I need this from him?
“Give me what I want, and I won’t have to act this way.”
“What if I like you like this? So wound up that you can’t help but whine and whimper just to get your fix? All you have to do is say that word, and I’ll make it all better,” he replies, licking his lips, making his wicked intention clear.
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, he knows exactly what to say to make every inch of my body ache for him. And whenever his tongue peeks out like that, I all but combust.
“You’re not touching me until I get to touch you. Those are the rules.”
“I don’t remember putting such rules in place.”
“You didn’t. I did. Take it or leave it,” I reply, praying that he caves. “One… two… I’m hanging up now… three…”
“Stop!” The second he concedes, my smile pulls so wide it feels like it might tear. “Very well,” he lets out a long-winded exhale. “But if this gets to be too much for you, we can stop.”
“Why would it be too much?”
“Have you ever… um… seen a man’s cock?”
I blush instantly. “No, of course not.”
He lets out what I think is a breath of relief. “Well, for someone who’s that inexperienced, seeing one for the first time might be… a little intimidating.”
“I grew up with four brothers and a sister. Nothing intimidates me much,” I say, standing my ground.
He lets out another laugh, the sound making my heart melt.
“This is different, sweetheart.”
“Well, I won’t know unless I try, now will I?” He pauses, considering the merits of my argument.
“Fine. We’ll play it by ear, agreed?”
“Agreed.” I smile widely, sitting on my hands so I don’t clap in excitement.
My gaze never leaves him as his hand cradles the crook of his neck, easing whatever knot he has there, before drifting down over his chest, still frustratingly hidden beneath a black T-shirt.
My eyes become two slits when his hand stops at the elastic band of his sweats, a visible bulge already aimed north where his fingers tug at the band.
I hear him take another breath before arching slightly upward and using both hands to pull his sweats down his legs, leaving him only in his boxers. Large muscular thighs come into full view, but my gaze remains fixed on the bulge he’s trying so hard to avoid touching.
I bite the corner of my lips as he decides to stand up for a second to remove the last stitch of clothing covering what I’m so curious to see.
Dear God…. what is that?!
My eyes widen as I take in his long length and girth, standing proudly at attention.
“I hate it when you don’t talk to me,” he says worriedly. “I’m not sure if you look disappointed or stunned.”
Stunned isn’t the word I’d use to describe what I’m feeling right now. Terrified. Panicked. Alarmed. All those adjectives would have worked better… but sure, let’s stick with stunned.
How is that ever going to fit…
Nope. I’m not going to think about that now. He said we’d play this by ear, and that’s exactly what I intend to do. No use thinking about how that monster is going to take my virginity one day. Maybe. Hopefully.
Though take doesn’t seem like a good verb either. More like that thing looks like it’s going to break my virginity, shatter it into a million pieces, just by looking at it.
And is it angry at me?
It looks all purply and veiny. Sure, I’ve never seen a man’s dick before, but I’m pretty sure his is mad at me for some reason.
“Um…is it always that…angry?”
“It’s not angry. Let me show you just how happy it is to see you,” he chuckles but then grunts when he strokes it from his tip down. “It likes you just fine. Believe me.”
“Are you sure? It looks pretty mad to me.”
“Fuck no. Not hearing your voice is what gets him angry.”
I lick my lips and imagine myself stroking it like he just did, the way it must feel in my hand. It’s so big that my hand would look tiny in comparison. Maybe I wouldn’t even be able to wrap my hand around it at all, with how girthy it is.
He then begins to show me how he jerks off to the memory of my little moans. The sounds that leave him get me hot all over, my thighs pressing against each other just to relieve the sudden ache building from the image on the screen.
“You look flushed, sweetheart,” he moans out after a while. “Is something the matter?”
I know he’s teasing me. So I turn the tables on him and tease him right back.
“Where am I right now?”
“What do you mean?” he asks in confusion.
“Am I just watching you touch yourself in your room… or is that my hand on you, stroking you?”
“Fuck, Anna… wait…”
“Or am I on my knees in front of you, watching you play with it?”
“Fuck,” he groans, a white spurt gathering at the tip. “I forget what a quick study you are,” he adds, his free, veiny hand gripping the edge of his bed, his knuckles turning white while his other hand tightens around his member.
Good. It’s working. But it’s not enough. I want him to lose his mind, like he makes me lose mine every night.
I once overheard Stella talking to Izzie about the time she got caught by her brother-in-law while she was giving her husband head in their kitchen.
That was the day Kirill forbade Kostya from ever showing up at their lake house uninvited.
In fact, that was the day he forbade us all from ever popping by unannounced.
I never understood what it meant. But now, seeing the white beads forming on the head of Rafe’s cock, I’m pretty sure it has something to do with that.
“Teach me what to do.”
“Anna,” he groans.
“Teach me. Do it,” I command, and it surprises me how forceful I sound, but by the way his mouth curves into a smile, I think he enjoys this side of me, too.
“Come closer,” he says, and stupidly, I lean closer to the phone, causing him to chuckle.
“Stop making fun of me,” I laugh.
“I wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart,” he says, but then his lips part slightly, and I almost imagine him seeing me there in his room, kneeling before him, inching closer to him.
“I’m here,” I say softly.
“Good. I’m going to wrap my hand around your throat a little bit. I promise I won’t hurt you. I’d never hurt you.”
“I know.” And I mean it.
He would never hurt me. He’s just showing me what he likes, and I want to learn. God, I want to learn so much. I want to give him the same pleasure he’s always so ready to give me. Even if only a fraction of it, since I’m pretty sure I suck at this.
“Wet your lips for me, sweetheart. I want you to tease me with your tongue.”
I wet my lips, and he groans, telling me his eyes aren’t shut but on the screen of his phone… watching every little thing I do.
“Now lean in and just lick the slope of my cock.”
I do as he says, even darting my tongue out, a loud hiss leaving him.
“Fuck. I don’t think I can do this. It’s too damn good…”
When I sense he’s faltering, I continue on.
“Do you feel my tongue on you? My breath caressing your hot skin?”
“Yes,” he grunts.
“Does it feel good?”
“So fucking good.”
“Then don’t tell me to stop. Let me make you feel good, like you always make me. I want to.”
He breathes out through his nose, his grip on his cock tightening before giving it another slow, languid stroke.
“You see how fucking crazy you make me? I’m about to come, and you haven’t even touched me yet.”
“So let me touch you,” I say, then add, “Let me put my mouth around you.”
“Oh, Jesus. Fuck, Anna. Yes. Do it. I’m in agony.”
I would smile right now if I weren’t so turned on.
I squeeze my inner thighs together and watch as he strokes himself, hard and crazed. I can’t help but slide my hand into my panties, spreading my thighs apart, just far enough to brush my fingers over my wet slit, needing some kind of friction to ease the ache that watching him conjured up.