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When She Loves (The Fallen, #4)(73)

Author:Gabrielle Sands

“No need for you to come out,” Rafaele instructs, his gaze on me. “Go home, Sandro.”

“Yes, boss.”

Rafaele lifts me off him, pulls the skirt of my dress back down, and opens the door.

He helps me out and wraps a hand around my biceps. The zip tie digs into my wrists as he walks me up the front steps. Behind us, the car starts, and Sandro drives off.

Rafaele unlocks the door and gives me a light shove inside. The house is silent. The staff are gone this late in the night. There’s no one here but us.

Even if I scream, no one will save me.

The door locks. I feel that harsh click reverberate deep inside my gut. A tendril of fear licks over my nape, but it’s swallowed by another wave of heat.

Rafaele stops us in the middle of the foyer and turns me around with a tug on my arm.

The moonlight makes love to the sculpted lines of his face, tracing his furrowed brow, strong jaw, and sharp cheekbones. He lifts his hands to the neck of my dress and curls his big fists around the fabric.

I can guess what he’s about to do, but the rip that pours through the air still makes me suck in a harsh breath.

I’m not wearing a bra. My breasts pop out. Rafaele’s gaze drops to them. He pinches one nipple hard enough to sting. Pain tangles with pleasure. My boobs are achy, begging to be touched and sucked and fucked. When he moves to the other, cupping it completely with his palm, I moan.

Something cruel pierces through his expression. He removes his palm and meets my eyes. Darkness flickers on the edges of his gaze.

“On your knees.”

Sparks run straight to my clit. I go down inelegantly, nearly tipping over, but he stops me from falling with a fist in my hair. I gasp from the harsh pull on my strands, from the way he forces my head back so that I’m looking up at him.

Possession swirls inside the dark-blue waters of his eyes. One hand still in my hair, he undoes his belt and pulls it out of the loops. He throws it to the ground, the buckle clanking against the marble floor.

I glance down and see an outline of his cock straining against his slacks. Shivers erupt over my spine as he pulls down his zipper, reaches inside, takes himself out. My mouth waters at the sight of him. He’s long and thick, with veins running up the shaft. Pre-cum glistens at the tip.

I’ve done this before a few times, but I was always in charge. Not now, though. Now, he’s going to take whatever he wants.

My clit pulses with the thought of that thick cock inside my mouth. How well will I please him?

He steps closer, wraps a hand around himself, and drags the swollen tip over my puffy lips. “I want you to remember this the next time you’re tempted to imagine a life without me. You’re mine. Do you understand? No one else will touch you like this. No one else will come inside of you. No one else will fuck your throat like I’m about to. All those things are my fucking privilege, Cleo. And I will kill anyone who conspires to take that privilege away from me.”

His fingers tighten in my hair, and his cock bobs against my lips.

Sweat breaks out over my skin. This is meant to be degrading, but I guess I’m into that, because my panties are drenched.

He tugs me toward him. “Open up.”

The second my mouth parts, he slides himself inside. Salty and male and very large. I close my lips around him and suck. He makes a few shallow thrusts, letting my mouth get familiar with him.

I flatten my tongue and press it against the underside of his cock. A groan rumbles deep inside his chest.

That sound is so hot it makes my eyelids flutter. Waves of heat crash over my skin, making every nerve ending fire. Even the sting of the hard marble floor against my knees seems erotic.

He pushes in deeper, until his head touches the back of my throat. Until I gag and choke and writhe on the floor before him.

“Fuck,” he grunts, pulling back to let me catch my breath. I suck on air, but he only gives me a second before he thrusts back in, his fist firm in my hair.

He picks up his pace. It’s rough and hard and overwhelming, but I don’t fight it. It’s shocking how easy it is to give him control. To let him use me however he likes.

My wrists flex against the zip tie. I do my best to relax my throat muscles. The next time he thrusts, he goes even deeper, so deep that the tip of my nose brushes against the trimmed hair at the base of his cock. My eyes water, and when I glance up at him through my wet eyelashes, he groans and pulls out until only the head is in my mouth.

I suck on it and swirl my tongue against the sensitive spot underneath.

Suddenly, he pulls me off him. “You’re too fucking good at that,” he mutters like he’s annoyed.

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