Chapter 30 Rafe
RAFE
The sun bakes the old stones around us, warm and golden, and Kaleigh is a vision laid out on my cloak, her skin gilded in this broken place.
There are no ghosts here, no wars waiting—just the hum of cicadas and the scent of wild thyme crushed beneath us.
I lower myself over her, my shadow covering her completely, and the world narrows to the space between our bodies.
“You feel that?” My voice is rough, stripped bare. “Every part of me belongs to you.”
Her answer is a soft sigh as I push my cock into her pussy, a slow, perfect stretch that makes her arch up into me. Her heat surrounds me, tight and wet, and for a moment I can’t move, can’t breathe, just feel.
“Rafe.” My name on her lips is a homecoming.
I set a rhythm that’s deep and relentless, each thrust measured, each withdrawal a sweet torment. My hands slide under her, gripping her hips, holding her exactly where I need her. Her legs wrap around my waist, pulling me deeper, and her fingers dig into my shoulders.
“Don’t stop.” Her words are broken, gasped into the crook of my neck. “Please, don’t ever stop.”
I drive into her again, harder, and a raw sound tears from her throat. The pace builds, a steady, building wave. I shift, angling us so every movement brushes that spot inside her that makes her cry out, her body clenching around me.
“Come for me,” I growl against her skin, my breath hot on her throat. “Let me feel you.”
Her release crashes over her, a silent, shuddering quake that ripples through us both. She trembles beneath me, her inner muscles milking my cock.
I roll us over without breaking our connection, her back pressed against my chest now, my arms locked around her waist. The new angle is deeper, more possessive. I bury my face in her hair, breathing her in—sunshine and sweat and something that’s just her.
“Again,” I murmur into her ear, my hips driving up into her. “Give it to me again.”
She moans, her head falling back against my shoulder, her body pliant and trusting in my hands. I slide one hand down her stomach, through the damp curls, and find the swollen bud of her clit. I circle it with a firm, steady pressure, matching the rhythm of my thrusts.
“Rafe… I can’t…”
“You can.” My voice is a low rumble against her spine. “You will.”
Her breath hitches, her inner muscles fluttering around my cock. She’s so close, so responsive to every touch. I hold her tighter, driving into her with long, deep strokes that make her gasp my name. The sound is a prayer in the quiet air.
“That’s it. Let go.”
Her second climax takes her silently, a series of sharp, breathless shudders that ripple through her entire frame. She goes boneless in my arms, her weight a perfect anchor. I keep moving, slower now, drawing out the sensation for both of us.
Her breathing slows, her body soft and heavy against mine. I stay inside her, not ready to let this end, not ready to let the world back in. Her fingers trace lazy patterns on my forearm.
“My turn.”
Her voice is a husky whisper that goes straight to my cock, which is still hard and buried deep within her. She shifts, sliding off me with a soft, wet sound that makes me grit my teeth. The cool air hits my skin, a stark contrast to her heat.
Before I can pull her back, she’s on her knees between my legs, her hands on my thighs. Her hair curtains her face as she leans forward.
“Let me,” she whispers, and her breath is warm against the tip of my cock.
Her mouth closes over me, and my head falls back.
A low groan rips from my chest. Her tongue is a slick, hot pressure, tracing the length of me before she takes me deeper.
Her hands grip my hips, holding me steady as she works me with a rhythm that’s both tentative and sure.
I fist my hands in the cloak beneath me, the fabric tearing under the strain.
“Kaleigh.” Her name is a raw plea.
I let this go on for a minute, maybe two, lost in the sensation of her mouth, the worship in her touch. But it’s not how this ends. Not this time.
With a growl that’s more feeling than sound, I sit up and wrap my arms around her, lifting her easily. She makes a small sound of protest against my skin.
“I need to be inside you when I come,” I murmur into her hair, laying her back down and settling between her legs. “All of me.”
I guide my cock back into her welcoming heat, and she gasps, her arms locking around my neck, pulling me down into a kiss that tastes of salt and us.
I slide into her again, a deep, claiming thrust that makes her gasp into my mouth. Her pussy clenches around my cock, a hot, wet fist that threatens to undo me right there. I break the kiss, my forehead pressed to hers, our breath mingling in the heavy air.
“You feel like heaven,” I rasp, my voice thick with a need I don’t bother to hide.
Her answer is a moan as I set a new rhythm, slower now, deeper.
Each withdrawal is a sweet agony, each return a homecoming.
I want to savor this, to memorize the way her body yields to mine, the way her hips rise to meet every stroke.
My hands slide down to cup her ass, tilting her just so, and I drive into her with a groan.
“Right there,” she whispers, her nails digging into my shoulders. “Don’t stop.”
I won’t. I can’t. I bury my face in the curve of her neck, breathing in her scent, and fuck her with long, steady strokes that build the pressure between us.
Her legs lock around my waist, pulling me deeper, and her quiet cries are the only music I need.
The world has shrunk to the space of this cloak, to the slick sound of our joining, to the feel of her coming apart beneath me.
I can feel her tightening around me, her breath catching in short, sharp hitches. “I’m close,” she pants, her voice trembling.
“Me too.” The words are a growl against her skin. “Come with me.”
I shift my weight, driving into her with a renewed intensity, each thrust hitting that perfect spot that makes her cry out.
Her body starts to quake, a series of delicious spasms that milk my cock, and I lose the last shred of my control.
My own release crashes over me, a blinding wave of pleasure that has my vision whiting out as I pour myself into her.
I hold myself deep, pulsing inside her until the last shudder passes through us both.
I stay buried inside her, our bodies slick and heavy in the aftermath. The world comes back in pieces—the drone of an insect, the distant call of a hawk, the slow, steady thump of my heart against her spine. Her skin is warm where I press my lips to her shoulder, a silent claim.
“You’re quiet.” Her voice is a soft hum against my chest. “Planning your escape route?”
A rough laugh rumbles out of me. “The only place I’m going is deeper into you if you keep talking.”
She shifts, a subtle, delicious friction that makes me groan. “I’m just taking inventory. Bruises. Scratches. The general state of wreckage.”
“A fair assessment.” I slide a hand up her side, my thumb tracing the line of her ribs. “Any complaints?”
“One.” She turns her head, her cheek resting on my arm. Her eyes are clear, seeing everything. “You’re supposed to be the beast. The unfeeling monster from the fight clubs.”
“And?”
“And I just felt everything you were feeling. Every bit of it.” She reaches back, her fingers finding the scars that lattice my back. “It wasn’t violence. It was… belonging.”
The word hangs between us, too big for a man like me. I press my face into her hair, inhaling the scent of her—sun-warmed skin and something sweet, something just for me. “Don’t go putting pretty words on it, doctor.”
“It’s not a pretty word. It’s a fact.” She twists in my arms, a fluid movement that forces me to slip out of her. The loss is a physical ache. She faces me, her palm coming to rest flat on my chest, right over the pounding rhythm. “I felt it here. A click. Like a final lock turning.”
I cover her hand with mine, pressing it harder against my skin. “That’s just my heart trying to beat its way out to you. It’s a traitorous organ.”
“It’s not a traitor. It’s finally home.” She leans forward and kisses me, a slow, deep taste that seals her words into my skin. “Witch and beast. Man and mate. It’s done.”
I pull her back against me, tucking her head under my chin. I don’t have her words. I just hold her, the truth of it settling into my bones, a quiet, permanent thing. The bond is sealed. No more questions.
Whatever happens next, I face it with her.