Chapter Forty-Two
Samara
I woke slowly the next gloaming, with a leisurely kiss on my shoulder.
That part of my body had never seemed erotic, not until Raphael was kissing it, the slight stubble of his chin that had grown while we slept scraping over me. I curved into it before I could resist.
“Good gloaming.” His voice was sleep roughened.
I stretched against him, both our bodies naked.
We’d gotten back to the palace a scant hour before dawn, after he’d carried me on his back as he swam to shore.
Then, I could have taken Alphonse, but I didn’t protest when he tucked me against his chest as he rode his mare back with both of us, Alphonse tied along.
Our sandy, wet clothing was quickly discarded, and I’d fallen asleep curled against the slight warmth of his body.
“Good gloaming,” I murmured, twisting to face him. A slight smile played along his lips, like he was pleased just to share this mundane moment with me.
He pushed onto one elbow. “You ready to drink?”
I flushed, yesterday’s events replaying in my mind. The way I’d gorged myself on him. “I think I got enough yesterday.”
“You should drink anyway.”
“Why’s that?” I truly didn’t feel thirsty. I drank dutifully every day, but my tolerance had built over the past few days. Twice in a day was exorbitant.
In a split second, he surged up, all sleep pretenses gone as he pinned my hands up. His grip wasn’t tight, not threatening, but caging.
His voice was a languid purr as he replied, “Because it makes my cock hard and your pussy wet, and I want to feel you grind against me without listening to the voice in your head telling you not to.”
I blinked. The heat in his words went straight to my core. I’d thought I was sated last night, but I wasn’t sure I’d ever have my fill of him.
“I’m pretty sure you’re already hard.” I meant for it to sound teasing, to put us on equal footing. Instead it came out a bit strained, because from this position I could feel him aligned with my entrance, and the grinding against him was a very near thing.
“If you bite me, I promise I’ll get even harder for you. You’ll like it,” he said, the picture of reason.
It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him that last night was a onetime exception. But this was the last day of the festival, and our deal still held. I could blame that.
Or I could blame the fact he was a sickeningly attractive male, and having all his attention on me made my toes curl. With the way his hair fell forward, mussed from sleep, his brow arched in invitation? Entrapment, plain and simple.
No tribunal in any kingdom would convict me.
I was still pinned, so I lifted my head. Raphael tilted his head in invitation and groaned as I sank my teeth in. His cock pulsed against me, true to his word. At this angle, his blood splattered on me, but I didn’t care, intending to savor his taste.
But this was a reversal. Instinctively, I pulled my hands, wanting to tug him against me, but there was no breaking Raphael’s grip.
He tsked at me. “This time, you’re staying put. I’m not going anywhere.”
He shifted, holding me with one hand as his other hand dipped lower, fingering my entrance. This time, my body easily accepted his finger.
I whimpered against his neck.
It was too good. As if my body had learned the pathway to release with Raphael last night and was sprinting toward the edge again.
He curled his finger, slipping another inside.
If I’d still been mortal, I’d have been too sore, too tender from last night.
Instead, I was desperate for release. I drank deeply.
Like he’d foretold, I ground against him, bucking my hips as he continued to work his fingers in me, hitting just the right spots.
This time when I came, it was sharp and fast. I groaned against him, then released his neck and sank back into the pillows. Raphael’s pupils were blown wide, lust painted over every feature.
He hadn’t been sated, however. “It seems I’m a bit of a selfish lover,” I admitted.
“You?” He bent to my chest, licking the drops of blood there. I arched in his grip. With my hands still pinned, I felt so much more exposed, vulnerable. “Oh, I think you’re rather generous.”
“Generous?” The word came out in a thin, reedy groan.
He lowered to his forearms, still caging me, but now his body was pressed on top of me. Warm. Secure. Like a very heavy, very aroused blanket.
“With your fangs. With your moans. With the way your body responds to mine, so pretty, so ready, so hungry for more.”
This time, when I arched against him, I was pressing right against his cock, and made no move to get away.
“Still. I’d like to learn. I… I don’t have experience.”
“You’ll learn,” he assured me. “You have centuries for that.”
I didn’t feel like I had centuries. I felt like I had only this moment, and I needed to wring every drop of pleasure from it I could before everything came crashing down.
“But,” he drawled, “I may be able to provide you with some guidance.”
“You do love instructing me,” I grumbled. At least this time when it ended with me on my back, it wasn’t because I’d lost.
“Mmm, I think you’ll like this lesson best. Keep your hands on your body. Do not take them off.”
He slid lower on my body, hands trailing along my hips. I obeyed, shaking my wrists and then putting my hands on my stomach.
“You can move them,” he said. “Place them where it feels good. Try your breasts.”
I slid my hands up, eager to obey. Drops of blood from when I’d fed smeared across my body as I ran my palms over my breasts, painting myself for him.
Raphael looked up at me with hungry eyes, his head now above my navel.
Remembering the way he’d sucked them last night, I moved my fingers to my areolas, pinching and tugging.
“That’s it. Play with your pretty nipples for me.”
His voice sent a shiver down my spine. Raphael moved his hands back low, taking my thighs and spreading them wide. I inhaled sharply. His movement wasn’t harsh, but sudden. It left me utterly exposed.
“Raphael…” My hands stilled. I knew what he was doing—had imagined it. Yet now that his face was inches from my sex, I hesitated.
“Trust me, Samara. I think you’ll like it, even if I’m not exactly kneeling before you.”
He held me there, waiting. I gave a short nod, all the permission he needed.
“You’re pretty here.” He pressed a kiss to the inside of my thigh. “Everywhere, really. So perfect. When I got a taste last night, I knew I couldn’t wait to have you directly on my tongue.”
That was the only warning he gave me before he shifted, running his tongue up the length of my folds.
My hips immediately bucked at contact, but he held me in place. “So sweet for me.”
He ran his tongue over me several times, teasing my entrance, before he moved deeper.
I gasped. This felt nothing like his fingers.
I tried to roll against him, but he held me, so instead I threaded my hand in his hair.
He didn’t lift his head as he pried my hand from his hair and guided my fingers back to my nipple, using my hand to pinch tightly. A reprimand that left me gasping.
“Keep your hands on your body, wicked girl, or I’ll have to tie them up.”
The image as much as the hint of pain was what made me gasp. I ran one hand over my throat. It was a different type of helplessness than when he’d held me down.
His hands didn’t have me pinned, but I was obeying anyway. I was putting myself at his mercy.
“Why can’t I touch you?” I whined. I might be obedient, but I was still confused. Didn’t he want to feel me?
He gave a long suck of my clit that had me crying out before he replied, “I want you desperate to touch me. I want you to ache so bad you think you’ll die if you can’t feel me. I want you to know how it feels,” he finished in a growl, his hot breath teasing my sex.
“Shouldn’t I be learning how to please you?” It was hard to complain convincingly, especially as he pressed another kiss to my center.
“You are. Seeing you writhe with pleasure is a sweeter sight than any other.” He tugged at my clit, letting me feel just a hint of teeth that made me wild. “And the most important lesson is to learn what you like.”
I whimpered. “This. I like this.”
“You like to feel my teeth?” He repeated the movement. “Or do you like when I shove my tongue inside your pretty folds and make you scream?”
He lowered his head again, tormenting me.
His grip grew tighter, as if he didn’t want me to get away.
I was so wet, so needy, and he continued to lap it up as if he were a starving man and I was a feast just for him.
He was relentless, not pausing, not giving quarter.
He ate me out like he fought—relentless until I yielded.
“That. Oh gods, Raphael, just like that.” My tone grew huskier. I pinched and kneaded, trying to counterbalance the onslaught of pleasure with an edge of pain. I curled my toes, feeling needy in every part of my body. “I’m going to come.”
He growled against me, a raw, masculine sound, but didn’t stop.
This time, when my orgasm rolled into me, it was different.
Not subtler, but a more languid build, intensity rising in a demanding thrum.
It hit me not in just one wave but several, colliding together.
Raphael didn’t slow down, sucking, tonguing, teasing the sensitive nerves at my center.
When it finally subsided, my body relaxed into the mattress as if I’d just run a hundred laps around the arena.
“You’re a merciless male.”
“And you like it.” He drew himself up and kissed me, my slickness still on his tongue as I tasted us together.
“Can I put my hands on you now?” I said against his lips.
“Yes.” He stroked my hair. “You were very good.”