Chapter 9
9
EMILIA
The sound of my footsteps is all that follows me down the hallway. Always empty. Always quiet. It’s like the walls are mocking me, reminding me how alone I am.
I sigh, keys fumbling in the lock. It clicks open, and I shoulder my way inside, box of takeout in hand. As I turn to lock the door, movement flickers at the edge of my vision. My heart leaps into overdrive, and the takeout slips out of my hand as I instinctively raise my elbows, bracing for a hit.
But it never comes.
Huh?
Slowly, I lower my guard. The big shadow that caught my eye seems to have… disappeared? If it was ever there. My brows furrow as I scan the living room. There’s no way I imagined that. Right?
The only light comes from those stupid Christmas lights that cast weird, dancing shadows everywhere. Maybe that’s all it was. Still, there’s this gnawing feeling in my gut, like I’m being watched. But I don’t see a damn thing.
Just as I’m about to chalk it up to paranoia, a massive shape suddenly explodes out of the darkness and lunges at me. In the faint light, all I can make out is a terrifying, skeletal St. Nicholas mask, white beard swaying as he charges. My scream lodges in my throat, trapped by sheer terror. I try to back up, but my back is literally to the door. Shit. My gun.
I reach for it—nothing. Where’s my fucking gun? Of all the times to be unarmed. What a rookie mistake. No choice now. As the masked figure reaches for me, survival instincts kick in. I grab his wrists, twisting with everything I’ve got. When I do, the familiar cologne wafts up to my nose and silver eyes lock on mine.
Rafael.
He grunts as we grapple for dominance.
My heart keeps thumping, but the rhythm has changed from fear to something far more thrilling. The memory of our chat at the supermarket two days ago rushes back, igniting something wild inside me.
This is it. Game on.
I slam my foot into his shin and twist his hands up in an attempt to arch them over his head. But he’s a solid wall of muscle—too tall, too strong; doesn’t budge an inch. Sweat rolls down my back, adrenaline bursting through me as I feint to the right, then duck under his armpit and make a mad dash for the stairs.
His heavy footsteps echo behind me, spurring me on, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I push myself to run faster. Just need to reach the bedroom. Lock him out. Almost there, almost ?—
His hand snags the back of my shirt and yanks me back into his solid chest, his arm immediately banding under my heaving breasts. A scream tears from my throat as he lifts me clean off my feet, my legs kicking uselessly in the air.
“Shut the fuck up,” he growls in my ear. The deep timbre sends an involuntary shiver rolling down my spine. I writhe and squirm, fighting to slip free, but his grip is ironclad.
“Listen.” His hot breath grazes the nape of my neck, and I quiver, my nipples beading almost painfully. “If you want to end this at any time, say Azaleas. Got it?” He’s giving me a safeword? I’ve never needed one before, and the fact that he’s giving me one now… my core clenches at the thought. Oh, hell, this just got a lot more intense. I nod, feeling the anticipation thrumming in my veins.
“I want to hear you say it.”
“If I want you to stop, I’ll say Azaleas,” I respond.
“Good girl,” he purrs. Then his voice drops to a menacing baritone. “But let’s be clear—you can say ‘stop’ and ‘no’ all you want. I won’t stop. Because you want this, don’t you? Practically begged for it when I caught you staring at me from across the room. That’s what those big honey eyes said, even as you stood all sweet and innocent next to your little boyfriend.” The words rumble through his chest as he groans, running his nose through my hair like he's inhaling me.
Pleasure spikes through me. He’s following a script. Play along.
“No, please,” I say, putting a tremble in my voice just enough to sound convincing. “My boyfriend will be home soon.”
“Wrong.” His hands slip under my shirt and curl tight around my breasts, squeezing just shy of pain. My eyes slide shut as sparks rush through my body, but I press my lips together, forcing myself to swallow the moan trying to escape— stick to the script . “He won’t be back anytime soon.”
I let myself go limp in his arms, then inject more fear into my voice. “What did you do to him?”
“Nothing… for now. If you are a good girl and cum pretty for me, I might even let him go.” He rolls my nipples through my bra. “Have you been a good girl, or have you been naughty?”
“Someone sent me a bouquet of Azaleas,” I begin, surprised at how easily the lies follow. “So, I bought a pair of protective gloves, carefully tore off the petals—you know, the poisonous ones—dried them out, ground them into fine dust, then… mixed the particles with my coffee grounds.” I pause for effect, flashing him a sweet smile.
“What are you getting at?” he grunts.
“Well… would you like some coffee before we proceed?”
He chuckles darkly, “Naughty then, huh? I hope for your sake you’re wrapped up like a delicious little present.”
His grip loosens just enough as he tries to brush my hair from my face, and I grab the chance, rearing my head back into his chin. He lets me go with a vicious curse, and I bolt.
“Bitch! You’ll regret that,” he snarls. His voice is menacing, but there’s something else—something dark and electric that ripples down my spine. It’s a foreboding sign of payback that fuels my adrenaline. I dash around my sofa, feet pounding towards my bedroom.
Finally, my hands wrap around the door, and my heart skips with the thrill of escape as I push it open. Yes! I’m in! Before I can slam it shut, though, a booted foot wedges in the gap, stopping the door. I glance up, and his eyes are dark as night with a glint that promises punishment.
I gulp, instinctively releasing the door to retreat deeper into the room. I’ve trapped myself . Wetness pools on my panties as he enters with a slow, deliberate intent, then locks the door behind him.
He strokes the white beard hanging from his chin, watching me with that predatory calm behind the mask. He knows he’s got me cornered.
As he starts to approach me, I launch myself at him with a feral yell, fists up like I actually plan to fight. If this were real, I’d go all out—years of combat training would give me a good shot—but he’s way bigger and stronger than my sparring partners, and this isn’t an actual altercation. More importantly… I want him to catch me.
And he does. He grabs my wrists, twists me around, and uses his grip to shove me forward. Then— click. Cool metal kisses my wrists, followed by another click.
He handcuffed me. Oh god.
Before I can even process this new development, his hand tangles in my hair and yanks, hard enough to send sharp stabs of pain down my scalp. My eyes water as he pulls my head back into him. “You shouldn’t have hit me,” he growls, nibbling my chin.
“Fuck you.” I moan, voice catching between defiance and lust.
“Do you hear that? Do you make that sweet sound for your boyfriend, or is that just for me?” He jerks my hair again, pulling even harder, and I can’t stop the tears rushing down my eyes at the painful sting. Gritting my teeth, I drive my elbow back into his chest, and he grunts, releasing my hair.
I’m free—for now. My feet barely hit the ground before I’m sprinting towards the bathroom. But with my hands cuffed behind me, I’m off-balance and slow. It’s all he needs. He grabs my shirt again, and I scream as he pushes me down. Pain reverberates through me, my knees hitting the floor with a jarring thud. But fuck if the pain doesn’t spread out into pleasure when he pushes me again until I’m forced chest-down on the floor.
Before I can even catch my breath, he’s on me, straddling my body, trapping my legs between his. “Stay. Fucking. Still,” he growls when I try to buck him off me like I still have a shot.
Spoiler: I don’t.
Suddenly, something cold and sharp grazes the skin of my back, sending a shiver through me. I crane my neck to look and— oh shit. My lips part at the wicked-looking curved knife in his hand. He runs the back of the blade over my skin again, and I must be out of my mind because it only makes me wetter.
The tip presses into my shirt, just enough to feel, as he starts dragging it up until the material rents into two. “You’re wearing the lingerie. Good girl.”
He moves the knife to the waist of my slacks, and with one swift motion, he tears them apart, shredding the material and shoving the pieces away until I’m lying on the floor in just the red and gold lingerie he got me.
My cunt pulses, clenching painfully around nothing while Rafael licks his lips, watching me with a hooded gaze. Then he tosses his knife aside, and his hand comes down on my ass with a loud smack. The pain radiates through me, drawing a ragged cry from my throat.
“That,” he snarls, “is for kicking me and running away, pretending you don’t want this when your panties are fucking soaked through.”
His hand kneads the flesh of my ass, sending waves of pleasure surging through my veins. I moan, melting into the floor like I’m ready to surrender. Then I remember I’m supposed to be fighting. He may have my hands cuffed and my legs trapped between his, but that doesn’t mean I have to make it easy for him.
I get even wetter as I renew my struggle, wrestling beneath him. He spanks my ass again, then fists his hand in my hair, yanking so forcefully this time that sparks burst behind my eyes. I scream, sensations exploding—twin currents of pain and pleasure so intense I don’t know where one stops and the other begins.
“You can scream all you want, but no one will hear you. No one is coming to save you.”
My heart races as his words wash over me, eerily echoing my own thoughts from years ago when I felt truly hopeless. But this time, there’s no fear. Because this is Rafael. My Rafael.
“No, no, please don’t.” My voice cracks when I feel the knife return to my hip. Real panic tightens around my throat, and I glance back, only to see him calmly slicing through my panties. The rush of relief nearly makes me dizzy. For a second, I was transported back to that dark moment in time.
Rafael’s gaze collides with mine, and his smirk grounds me again, so I slip right back into our script, wriggling beneath him now that the knife is away from my skin. “Please don’t do this... I don’t want this.” A big fat lie— I’ve never wanted anything so badly.
With a flick, he peels the ruined fabric from my hips, leaving my hot, wet cunt exposed to the cool air.
“Little liar.” He leans over my back, dangling the underwear in my face. “Look how soaked your panties are. And you want me to believe you don’t want this?”
I shudder as he pushes the panties under my nose and my own smell fills my nostrils, making me heady. I’ve never been this aroused in my life. It’s maddening—the more I fight, the more my body screams for him, so I keep fighting. I’m a raging fire, burning with need, but kicking is pointless. He’s a goddamn brick wall, and I’m just a leaf caught in a storm.
He chuckles as his hand lands on my ass and slowly snakes down towards my pussy. Immediately, I clamp my legs shut, but he just chuckles again, adjusting his stance behind me so that his left knee forces its way between my thighs, prying them apart like it’s nothing. My breath hitches, and I can’t help but feel a rush of vulnerability mixed with excitement.
A sharp ache builds in my shoulders, my arms straining like hell from being cuffed behind my back for so long. The discomfort only makes me more desperate, more frustrated, and I grind my teeth as I buck against him in one last attempt at pretending I have control here. But then his hand slides through my wetness, and every ounce of resistance evaporates. His finger slips into me with ease, and I swear I see the galaxy behind my eyes. Holy shit . My body betrays me—my moan is thick and throaty, and my pussy clenches his finger, welcoming the intrusion with an undeniable hunger.
“Fuck,” he grunts, withdrawing his finger just as fast, leaving me a mess of need. I whimper, my hips chasing his hand before I can stop myself. “That’s it, beautiful. Show me how much you want me.”
“Fuck you.” I hiss, balling my fists together as I writhe on the floor, desperate to rub my thighs together. Fuck, fuck, fuck, I need to come so badly. His eyes glitter under the mask, full of sick satisfaction as he watches me squirm, taking his sweet time undoing his pants. My pulse quickens, the wait almost unbearable. Hurry the hell up. Every second drags, making the ache between my legs even worse. I can’t take it anymore. Just do it already.
When he pulls out his massive cock, I can’t help it—my mouth waters, and I watch, mesmerized, as he strokes himself, squeezing the swollen, angry red crown. It takes everything in me not to whimper. Then his hand slips back between my legs, and it’s like my brain short-circuits. He rolls my clit between his fingers, and I’m powerless to stop the moan that rips out as pleasure slams into me, leaving me gasping, utterly at his mercy.
“That’s it, moan for me. You want this, you little slut. Girls like you always want it but act like you’re too good for it. Like you’re too good for me. So I simply have to take you for myself. Prove just how much of a slut you are.”
His words stroke my pleasure even higher. But just as I start to revel in it, his hand vanishes, replaced by his cock sliding wetly through my folds. I moan his name, feeling so impossibly turned on, knowing I’m on the brink of something explosive.
“That’s right, moan my name like you belong to me. Because you do. You’re mine, mine .” He drives each word home with a thrust and fuck fuck, fuck, it’s too much. I scream as a dizzying rush of pleasure swells within me., It builds to a crescendo, and I come so hard, my cunt pushes his cock out.
“Fucking hell,” he curses as he forces himself back into my tight sheath, fucking me right through my orgasm. “You’re so fucking tight. You’re going to milk every last ounce of cum from me. But not yet. No. I’m not done with you.” He groans the last part and spanks my ass as if punishing me for my own pleasure.
The pain mingles with his thrusting, stoking my arousal even higher. Before my first orgasm even ends, another barrels into me, hard and fast, followed by a third. My body shudders around him, my whole being focused on nothing but the pleasure and even more pleasure.
His thrusts become faster, harder, his rhythm no longer paced but frenetic.
Words spill from my lips, but I’m not sure what I’m saying. I’m lost, completely delirious with pleasure, until he yanks my hips higher and my body goes like a rag doll. His fingers find my clit again, rolling and pulling, and somehow, unbelievingly—God, I don’t know how—I come again, screaming his name so loudly I momentarily lose my breath.
This time he comes with me, his hot seed filling me as he groans my name. Then his warm weight covers my back, and for a moment, we’re one.