He shoves his cock back inside his boxer briefs and lifts me by my hair until I’m back to swaying on my heels, my makeup ruined and my dress ripped halfway down the front. His gaze sweeps over me like he’s admiring his work.
There must be something wrong with me, because despite my aching throat, I love how pleased he looks.
I clench my thighs together, desperately searching for relief that isn’t there. I want him to touch me, God, I’d do anything for him to touch that spot between my legs.
But he’s in no rush. He untangles his fingers from my hair and fondles my breasts. Like I’m a toy on display for him to play with. His thumb circles my nipple, making it hard before he moves to the other.
“Exquisite,” he mutters to himself. “You’re exquisite.”
I sway. “Rafe.”
His eyes jump to mine. He breaks me apart with his gaze, layer after layer, until it feels like he’s staring right into my soul. My eyelids lower in a slow blink. God, I can’t believe I’m about to say this.
“You win,” I whisper. “I’m begging you. Please fuck me.”
A shudder goes through him. He takes me by the waist, lifts me over his shoulder like I weigh nothing, and takes me up the stairs, down the hall, and into our bedroom.
The next thing I know, I’m back on my feet, my front pressed against the wall by the bedroom door. Warmth seeps into my skin where his big hand wraps around my tied wrists. He lowers to his haunches behind me and tugs on the leather shoe strap wrapped around my ankle. One stiletto comes off. He moves to the other. His touch is featherlight against my skin, and I’m so damn turned on that I moan in response.
He stands. There’s a rustling sound, like he’s taking something out of his suit. I turn my head to check what’s happening, but the only thing I see is a flash of metal before the left strap of my dress snaps.
Oh my God. He’s cutting off my dress. It takes him another second to cut the other strap, and then my dress is no more than a puddle at my feet. He tucks the knife away somewhere where I can’t see and presses his front against my back.
I don’t protest when his rough hand slides down the front of my thighs and forces my legs apart. I don’t protest when that same warm, big hand pushes its way inside my panties. And I definitely don’t protest when he thrusts one thick finger inside of me and growls, “So fucking wet for me.”
I am. I’m ready for this. I need this.
One finger becomes two, and with it comes a pleasant stretch.
“You have no idea how tight you are,” Rafaele murmurs, his breath hot against my neck. “Tighter than I imagined whenever I fucked my fist thinking of you.”
My core quivers. “Did you do that often?”
He sides a hand around my front and cups my breast. “Nearly every day. Before I married you, that is.”
My head lolls back, bumping against his chest. “And afterward?”
He curls his strong fingers inside me, hitting a spot that makes me gasp. “Too often to admit. Every time I woke up and saw you on the other side of the room, on the other side of the bed. So fucking close, and yet so far.” He dips his head, pressing his lips to my neck. “You have no idea what you’ve done to me.”
Teeth press into my flesh. First lightly and then harder, until pain sparks. I whine, and he decreases the pressure. His tongue darts out, and he licks the mark he’s undoubtedly left.
The wet sound of his fingers fucking my pussy floods through the air, becomes more and more obscene. I don’t care. I don’t care about anything anymore. I want him to keep touching me. I want to come. God, I want to come so bad.
“Oh God. That feels so good. Fuck, Rafe—”
He moans and grinds his erection against me. He keeps thrusting his fingers in and out of me, and it’s good, it’s so good, but it’s not enough.
“Lick me,” I plead. “Please lick me.”
And then I’m on the bed, and he’s ripping off his jacket and rolling up his sleeves, like he’s about to get into all kinds of dirty things.
He kneels on the ground, rips the panties off, shoves my legs apart, and drags his tongue over my folds.
My bound hands dig into my lower back. I arch my body, pushing myself farther into his face. He wraps his arms around my thighs, keeping me in place, and sucks on my clit, flicking it with his talented tongue until I’m hanging on by a thread. The pressure builds, and builds, and builds, and then I come apart.
Oh, how I come apart.
My thoughts are scrambled words on a whiteboard, and the orgasm wipes them clean. There’s nothing but ecstasy. Nothing but the pleasure pumping through my body.