Rafaele stares at me over the low hum of the car’s engine and the barely there song playing on the stereo. The silence clogs my throat, but I don’t dare break it. We hit a speed bump. I bounce in his lap and make contact with something hard.
My tongue darts out past my lips, and his gaze dips to my mouth.
The air in the car feels more charged than the sky before lightning strikes.
See the problem with not thinking about consequences? It’s how you end up in the back seat of a car with your wrists zip-tied, lips raw, and heart aching.
I should have known he’d get angry about how long it took me to tell him the truth, but I needed that time to sort through my feelings. I’m taking a huge leap of faith here.
His hands, big and warm, are on my thighs. He traces the edge of my panties with his fingertips. I don’t think he even realizes he’s doing it. He’s so far gone inside his head. The tendons in his neck are taut, and his jaw hasn’t unclenched since I whispered into his ear.
Is he thinking of the ways he’ll punish me?
“What will you do to my father?” I ask, if only to pretend like I’m not buzzing with anticipation.
My husband is a killer. I should be scared of what he’ll do to me. But it’s not fear that’s making my pussy clench. There’s a dark promise inside his gaze, the kind that makes me think of tangled sheets, bite marks, and filth muttered against my ear.
“He will die, but I’m done talking about him tonight.”
I nod. I guess, so am I. What happens to my father now is out of my hands. He dug his own grave.
The car glides to a smooth stop.
“We’re here,” Sandro says.
Heat travels up my neck in a wave. I don’t know how much Sandro saw or heard, but I know it’ll be a while before I can bring myself to look my driver in the eye again.
“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.
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.
I gasp and roll my head to the side. I’m panting, trying to catch my breath.
A thumb brushes against my lower lip. Fingertips trace my jaw. A hand wraps around my neck. When I open my eyes, Rafaele is above me, his hair disheveled and his eyes pitch-black with lust. He tightens his hand around my throat and presses his lips down on mine.
My own taste floods my senses. I moan into his mouth, rolling my hips against him. My clenched fists dig into my lower back, but I barely register the discomfort.
More, more, more.
He pulls back and stares down at me. There’s no anger left in his face, just lust. I guess he took all of the anger out on my throat earlier. He moves his hand from my neck to my forehead, brushing away the red strand that’s fallen into my eyes.
“If you want me to stop, now would be the time to say it.”
Something sparks inside my chest. I shake my head.
Slowly, he breathes out. “Are you on birth control?”
“Yes.” I snuck out and got an injection, just in case, when Papà was trying to set me up with Ludovico. It should last at least a few more months.
He nods and climbs off me.
I’m expecting him to take off his clothes, but instead he snakes one arm around my waist and flips me to my front. Disappointment wafts through me. This is how he wants to do it?
There’s a cold lick between my wrists, and the zip tie gets tighter before it snaps.
Oh. He freed me.
The knife lands on the carpeted floor with a dull thud.
I roll to my back and stare at him as he takes off his clothes. His deft fingers make quick work of the buttons of his shirt. He pulls his arms out of the sleeves, the muscles in his shoulders and chest flexing with the movement. The pants go next, together with the boxers. My gaze dips to his abs, the V-below, then lower. I swallow. Somehow, he looks even bigger than before.
This might hurt.
He gets on the bed, settles his weight between my legs, wraps one palm around my thigh, hiking it up higher. I run my hands up his muscled chest. He’s burning up. So am I.
His cock presses against my center, and he wraps his fist around it, guiding it where it belongs. He pushes into me slowly, stretching me, hurting me. I choke from the sudden pain and claw at his back until I tear his skin.
“I’m sorry,” I breathe, knowing that I’m making him bleed too.
“Do what you need,” he rasps.
He stops before he’s fully in. Tears sting in the corners of my eyes, and I squeeze them shut so that I don’t cry.
His hand disappears from my thigh and moves to cup my cheek. “Cleo. Tesoro.”
I blink at him, barely seeing him through my blurry vision.
“Stay with me.” He swipes his thumb over my cheekbone. “Breathe through it.”
I do. I focus on taking in air until he leans down to kiss me, and then I focus on the way his mouth fits against mine. He kisses me for a long time. So long that the tightness in my center starts to unravel. So long that I part farther for him. He fills me all the way up, and a moan pours out of him.
It’s so fucking sexy that it makes electricity dance over my skin. He kisses me while he fucks me, tenderly, reverently. Soon, I forget about the pain. It disappears, gets replaced with pleasure. I wrap my legs tighter around him and dig in my heels. He picks up speed and drops his head to suck on my neck.
“You’re squeezing me so tight,” he mutters against my skin. “You feel so fucking good, Cleo. You’re perfect.”
His words set me off. A familiar pressure builds inside of me, ratcheting up with every smooth stroke. He changes the angle of his hips, and it feels even better, more intense. My eyes roll to the back of my head, and then my orgasm is crashing through me.
“Oh fuck,” he growls as I flutter around him. His body grows taut, every muscle prominent and hard. I scrape my nails down his chest and watch his face morph into a grimace. His cock jerks, and he spills inside of me with a guttural groan.
For a while, we stay tangled with each other. I press a kiss to his chest. He brushes his fingers through my hair. I don’t know how much time passes, but it’s enough for him to start softening. Eventually, he lifts himself up on his hands and pulls out with a hiss.
Warm liquid trickles out of me. He stands up, his gaze latching onto my pussy, and he looks at it for a prolonged moment, his chest rising and falling with hard breaths. “I’ll get a towel.”
I sit up and glance down between my legs. There’s a reddish-pink stain on the white sheet. But this one, no one will see.
No one but us.
