Chapter 16 #2
The reaction was immediate.
His hand tightened at my waist—not painful, but firm enough to stop me completely.
In one controlled motion, he pulled me fully back into him until I was pressed so close I could feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing against my chest.
My breath hitched.
Rafael’s eyes darkened slightly.
And then, without warning, he lifted me.
A bridal carry.
I blinked in surprise, instinctively bracing myself—but he was already moving, walking down the corridor with steady confidence as if I weighed nothing at all.
“You really don’t like giving me warnings, do you?” I muttered, trying to sound annoyed.
It came out thinner than I intended.
“No,” he said simply.
That one word did something unsettling to my nerves.
He carried me into his bedroom.
The space was large, elegant, and dimly lit—luxury softened by shadows and quiet.
Everything about it felt controlled, intentional, like him.
He walked straight to the bed.
And set me down carefully.
As if I were something he was trying very hard not to break—or lose control over.
Before I could fully process it, he was over me.
One hand beside my shoulder, the other bracing on the mattress, his body lowering until he caged me in without pressing down on me.
Fully clothed. Still restrained. But the restraint felt... temporary now.
“You tempt me every single day, Loretta,” he muttered, staring down at me like he was finally allowing himself to say something he had been swallowing for a long time.
His jaw tightened slightly.
“Damn...” A rough exhale left him. “You are so beautiful.”
The words hit differently than I expected.
My gaze dropped instinctively—just for a second.
And I saw it.
The unmistakable strain of him against his trousers.
The proof of everything he had been fighting to contain.
Heat rushed through me so fast it almost stole my breath.
I shouldn’t have looked.
But I had.
And now I couldn’t unsee it.
Rafael noticed my reaction immediately.
His eyes sharpened slightly, like he was deciding whether to pull away or give in further.
Neither happened.
Instead, he leaned down.
Slower this time.
His lips met mine.
The first kiss was controlled—measured, almost cautious, like he was still testing the boundary he had spent weeks refusing to cross.
But control never lasts forever when it’s already breaking.
The second kiss deepened.
Then the third lost any patience entirely.
My fingers curled instinctively into his shirt as the space between us vanished completely.
His mouth moved against mine with growing urgency, no longer restrained, no longer careful—just hungry, consuming, as if something inside him had finally snapped free.
His hand slid behind my neck, anchoring me closer.
My thoughts scattered completely.
Everything else—divorce, danger, tomorrow’s meeting—blurred at the edges until there was nothing left but him.
I sucked on his lower lip and he groaned softly into my mouth — a low, rumbling sound that vibrated straight through my core.
Ecstasy rose fast and sharp inside me.
Heat pooled heavily between my legs as vivid images flashed through my mind: him thrusting deep inside me, filling me completely, claiming every part of me.
My hands roamed up his broad back, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt as the kiss turned fierce, desperate, almost bruising in its passion.
His hand moved to my breast, hovering for a heartbeat before squeezing it with gentle but firm possession.
A soft, involuntary moan escaped my lips.
“Loretta,” he pulled back just enough to speak, his voice rough and strained with control, “I need to know if you are truly comfortable with this. Tell me now.”
Instead of answering with words, I pulled him down and slammed my lips against his again in a brief, fiery kiss.
When he drew back once more, he was pressing the hard length of his clothed cock firmly between my thighs, the delicious friction making me ache with need.
“I need you to say it,” he demanded quietly, eyes dark with lust and careful restraint. “Tell me you want me, Loretta. I will not take what is not given.”
“I want you,” I breathed hurriedly, pulling him close again, my voice trembling with desperation. “I want you, Rafael. Please.”
Satisfaction and something darker flashed in his eyes.
He reached back and pulled his shirt off in one fluid motion, revealing his torso.
My breath caught sharply.
He was breathtaking — broad, powerful shoulders, defined pectorals, and a sculpted six-pack that spoke of disciplined strength and lethal grace.
Every line of muscle was honed like a weapon, yet the raw masculine beauty of him made my pussy throb with fresh, aching heat.
The sight sent another rush of wetness flooding between my thighs.
He helped me out of my clothes with surprising patience and gentleness, his hands steady as they peeled away each layer.
I kept my eyes locked on his face the entire time, using him as both my safety and my anchor.
As long as I focused on Rafael — this dangerous, possessive man who had pulled me out of my darkness — the old traumatic memories threatening to surface stayed locked away.
I nodded whenever he looked at me for silent permission, trusting him completely in that moment.
Once I was completely bare beneath him, his mouth descended to my left nipple.
He nibbled gently at first, then sucked with intense, focused hunger, drawing a sharp arch from my back.
His hand rested lightly on my neck — possessive, grounding, never threatening.
The sensation was incredible. To think I had once recoiled from any touch; now his mouth and hands felt like fire and salvation at once.
He moved to my other nipple, sucking harder while his free hand began a slow, sensual journey down my body — tracing the valley between my breasts, circling my navel, until his fingers hovered just above my pussy.
My entire body shuddered violently.
I hadn’t been touched there in years. The vulnerability hit me like a wave.
He lifted his head, eyes searching mine with quiet intensity.
“It’s okay, Loretta. I’ve got you.”
Those calm, firm words soothed the rising shame and fear like cool water on burning skin.
He watched me carefully, ready to stop the instant I needed it.
I nodded, giving him clear permission to continue.
His lips traced a hot, wet path down the center of my body — kissing between my breasts, over my navel, lower and lower with deliberate slowness.
When he reached the apex of my thighs, he slid his hands beneath them, gently parting and lifting my legs to open me fully to his gaze.
I should have felt shame. Fear. Instead, desperate, aching need consumed me.
I wanted his mouth on me more than I had wanted anything in a long time.
His face lowered.
His tongue licked a slow, broad stripe up my slit.
A loud, broken moan tore from my throat.
Then his teeth grazed my sensitive folds before he began devouring me with raw, starving passion — licking, sucking, feasting like a man who had waited years for this exact taste.
The wet, obscene sounds of his mouth combined with my helpless, rising moans filled the room.
Pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in my core, building unbearably fast.
My hands fisted the sheets so hard my knuckles turned white.
The pressure mounted relentlessly; I was going to come hard and fast.
He suddenly pulled away, leaving me panting, trembling, and teetering right on the agonizing edge.
“Not yet,” he said, a faint, playful wink softening the dangerous hunger in his eyes for just a moment.
He stood briefly and stripped off his trousers, kicking them aside.
His cock sprang free — thick, long, and heavy with need.
I gasped uncontrollably at the sight. The sheer size made me wonder how I would ever take all of him inside me.
He noticed my reaction and leaned down, voice low, dark, and reassuring. “I’ll make sure it doesn’t hurt, Loretta. I’ll take care of you.”
The promise, spoken in that controlled, possessive tone, sent another powerful wave of heat and trust through me.
In this moment, with Rafael above me — gorgeous, dangerous, and completely focused on my pleasure — I felt seen, wanted, and safer than I had in years.
Then he positioned the thick head of his cock at my entrance, pressing gently against my slick folds.
My eyes stayed locked on his face the entire time, using him as my anchor.
He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, while his hand came up to cup and knead my breast with gentle possession.
I was so wet, so ready, that there was no pain — only a deep, stretching fullness as he slid deeper until he was buried to the hilt inside me.
A soft, broken gasp escaped my lips at the overwhelming sensation of being completely filled by him.
He pulled back almost all the way, then slammed into me hard.
Pleasure exploded behind my eyes like stars bursting across the night sky.
Just like that, he set a relentless rhythm — pulling out slowly only to drive back in with powerful, punishing thrusts.
The bed shook violently beneath us as he fucked me hard and deep.
I parted my thighs as wide as they would go, welcoming every brutal stroke, my body arching greedily to meet him.
Damn... I love this so fucking much.
I didn’t want it to stop. Not ever.
My screams and moans filled the room, raw and uninhibited, as he rammed into me again and again.
The intense pleasure began building once more, coiling tighter and tighter in my core until I could barely breathe.
I tried to speak, to warn him, but no coherent words would come — only desperate, broken moans.
I tried to tell him I was about to come undone, but he kept fucking me so hard, so perfectly, that all I could do was cling to him.
He leaned down, his lips brushing my ear as he grunted low and rough, the sound vibrating through me like a dark melody.
It was as if he had imagined this moment a thousand times and was finally claiming what he had denied himself for so long.