2. June #3
I arch and the orgasm is blinding. I shatter all over his dick, mindless, heavenly, blissful, and he fucks me through it like a savage, breaking me, supporting my body as he does it, moaning and snarling, and I feel him tighten as his cock glides in to the hilt, coming so hard it’s like I’m hammered at my edges, and I moan his name and tears roll down my cheeks as I nearly black out.
“Good girl, June, such a good girl,” he says as I start to come down, gasping for air, his cock buried between my legs, pulsing with the end of his orgasm. I feel him warm and wet inside of me. “Such a good girl. So lovely and pretty. Taking every inch. God, June, you feel so fucking good.”
He kisses me then. It’s not the kiss of a man spent, a man finished and satisfied.
No, it’s a promise.
That he cares. That he wants to make sure I’m okay.
But that he’s not finished with me yet.
He slides out and it’s like losing a piece of myself. I moan, slumping back against the glass. He lifts me and carries me to the couch, depositing me down. He leaves for a moment, then returns with another glass of freezing cold prosecco.
“Here, doll.” He drags me into his lap. I curl against him as he feeds me more of the drink. “You’re okay.”
“I’m very okay.” I lean my ear to his chest. Warm, muscular, his heart thudding a slow rhythm. “I might be broken and I’m pretty sure I’ll never walk straight again, but I’m okay.”
His chuckle is a low rumble. “You’ll survive, doll.”
“I didn’t know you knew how to laugh.”
“Seems you bring it out of me.”
I close my eyes and breathe in through my nose, out through my mouth. “Will you tell me something?”
“Go ahead and ask if you like.”
“How did you know my last name?”
He clucks his tongue and strokes my hair. “Don’t ruin the fun, doll.”
“But—“
“Tomorrow it won’t matter. Why worry about the details now?”
“Rafe—“
“Tomorrow it won’t matter,” he repeats. “There’s only tonight.”
I chew my lip. Now that I’m sinking away from the orgasm high, reality starts to reassert itself.
I’m in the most expensive suite in an extremely high-end hotel.
I’m sitting mostly naked (parts of my dress are still draped off my body) in the lap of a terrifying, drop-dead gorgeous monster.
I had the best sex of my life and I’m pretty sure he was right.
I’ll be thinking about him for a very long time.
I can walk away now. Return to the room downstairs. Check on Beth and Marnie.
Go back to being myself.
“You’re right.” I tilt my chin toward him. He comes down for a kiss. I grab the back of his head and hold him, deepening and lengthening, until I feel him already beginning to stir. That massive cock is hard to ignore. “Just tonight.”
“That’s a good girl.”
“Now how about you show me the bed you promised?”
“We can do that.”
“Ah—“ He adjusts, his dick pressing to my ass. “We’re not going to make it, are we?”
“Most likely not.”
“How are you this hard already?”
“When I break, doll, I break all the way. It’s why I don’t do this often. It’s why I don’t take the risk.”
There’s a moment, a beat when he seems distant. What does he mean, the risk?
But he leans down and kisses me again, and all that’s forgotten, as he slowly removes what’s left of my ruined dress, and spends the next several hours getting to know every inch of my body.
Who the hell turned the lights on?
“Hey, Marnie, what are you—“ I squint at the room around me, disoriented for a moment.
Then the night before floods back. The ache between my legs where Rafe left me battered and heavenly. The luxurious bed like a pillow. No other drunken girls to deal with.
“Rafe?”
I look around, but the room’s empty.
I stay in bed for a while. It’s exactly like he promised. The clock says it’s barely past seven, but the monster is gone.
There’s no sign of him in the bathroom. I find clothes in my size draped over the tub. No note, but it’s obvious. I pull on fresh, comfortable underwear, sweats, and a long-sleeve shirt. Simple, but all designer brands.
I keep searching. Nothing in the closet or in the other rooms.
As far as I can tell, nobody else was here last night.
Even the living room was cleaned. My ice bucket and my bottle of Diet Coke are on the kitchen counter like that’s where they always were.
Not spilled on the floor.
I find a note taped to the glass windows right where he fucked me.
The room is paid for through the week. Anything you order goes on my tab. Get what you like. Don’t hold back. Enjoy yourself, doll.
“What the hell?” I murmur to myself. This space has to be thousands per night. But he’s really letting me stay?
This is crazy. I can’t believe last night happened.
But it really, really did.
I have to get back to Marnie and Beth. They’re probably worried sick. I left my phone in the room and have no way of letting them know I’m okay.
I’ll be back though. Why not?
Back in the real world, my life sucks.
Dead-end job, no prospects, a sick grandmother, and debt to my eyelashes.
I’ll go back to taking care of my friends, but when that’s over…
I can pretend to be someone else for a few more days.