Page 13 of Culmination
“Not a big deal? Jesus Christ, Brie, it’s like pulling fucking teeth with you. What the hell happened? Where did you go? Who did this to you?” He runs a hand over his face and then brushes his fingers through his hair. He grabs his shoes, sits on the edge of the bed, and tugs them on.
I rush towards him to yank his shoes away. Then I toss them to the other side of the room. His hands ball into fists, which he plants on the bed on either side of him.
“I’m okay, Rafe. I promise.”
“You have a bandage on your fucking head, Gabriella. You are not fine,” he seethes.
I reel back as if he’d slapped me. Henevercalls me Gabriella.
“Rafe, I’m fine. I’ll explain. I promise, but now, I want you. God, Ineedyou,” I breathe. Right now I want to forget Adrian. Forget Dr. Sheridan. Forget everything about this damn day and just feel some sense of normalcy. And only Rafe can give that to me.
“God dammit, you can’t fuck this out of my mind,” he hisses.
“I’m not. I promise. We’ll talk after. Right now, I…I just want you,” I whisper.
When I palm his cock through his jeans, arousal replaces the anger in his eyes. I silently thank my lucky stars for it. Not wanting to give him time to change his mind, I straddle his waist, my knees on either side of him. It’s wrong to use him, to want to wash away the events of the day, erase the time spent with Adrian.
Rafe’s arms slide around my waist. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”
“You’ll never lose me, Rafe. I’m yours. Always.”
I lean forward, capturing his mouth and hoping to end all conversation. Then I rock against his erection, and when he moans his appreciation, I know I’ve accomplished my mission.
His hands run up and down my spine, causing goose bumps to pebble on my skin. When his tongue parts my lips, our kiss transforms from gentle to voracious, and I can’t get enough of him. As our tongues wage an intoxicating battle, Rafe pulls me close until we’re chest to chest, as if it’s some reminder that I’m here, I’m fine. I’m unsure of how long we stay in that position. Of how long I grind down on his denim-covered erection while he rocks his hips up against me.
Suddenly, it’s no longer enough, and with one last lingering kiss on his lips, I pull away, both of us panting.
I push him back so we collapse on the bed together. His hands slide down and grip my ass, holding me firmly in place to still straddle his erection. The sensation of his aching, hard length pressed against me sends pools of heat between my legs. Desire flashes in his eyes as one hand releases my ass to move up to my collarbone, where he trails a path down my glistening skin, over both breasts and pebbled nipples, and down farther until it slips under my dress and between my legs.
“So fucking wet already,” he groans, his finger sliding back and forth over my wet folds.
It’s true. I’m damp with desire for this man, aching for his touch, so eager that I’m about to burst. While I want to take my time, savoring every single moment, worshipping his robust, muscular frame until not a single centimeter is untouched, I’m too impatient. Right now, all I want is to skip the foreplay.
So I do. I waste no time sinking down onto Rafe’s rigid length, gasping at the sensation of him hard and deep inside me.
I don’t know why I’m so eager for him to remind me of what we have. What we are. I could blame hormones, but deep down, I know the truth. On some level, Adrian still affects me. His soft kiss, the gentleness of his touch. The way he held me close, apologizing profusely. The way he cared for me instead of harming me. That’s why I need Rafe. I need him to ground me. To remind me he’s who I’m meant to be with. That all Adrian is doing is playing mind games.
“Baby, your head.” He groans as my hand comes between us to cup his hardened length.
I grin against his lips. “Mmm-mmm… That’syourhead,” I tease, my thumb circling over the tip of him. My belly flutters as I feel a drop of pre-cum, and I can’t wait any longer. I want him. Ineedhim. To feel him inside me.
As I lift off the bed, I’m quick to remove my dress. Rafe watches me appreciatively. He approves of my decision to go commando. I do, too, because it means I’m that much closer to being with him. My hands swiftly unbuckle his jeans, and I pull them off, taking his boxers with them. My tongue darts out to lick my lips at the sight of his hard cock springing free. The sight of him—tan, muscular, and completely nude, sprawled out on the bed—is my undoing.
I pounce, straddle his lean waist, and take hold of one of my favorite parts of him. Without preamble, I line him up to my entrance and slam down on him. I’m in instant heaven as he fills me fully, inch by perfect freaking inch. A small whimper escapes my lips, matching his own sharp intake of breath, as he buries himself to the hilt.
“Fuck,” he groans, his hands coming to my waist, where he holds me still, reveling in the tightness of my pussy.
He’s embedded so deep inside me, and any reminder of Adrian melts away. Because even with Adrian, it was never like this. Never this perfect. We didn’t fit together the way Rafe and I do.
Slowly, I rise, and then I sink onto him just as gently, not quite ready to increase my tempo. My hands roam the sharp, muscular planes of his chest before they plant firmly on rippling muscles, holding on for dear life as he takes over, driving up into me repeatedly and without abandon.
Our panting breaths echoe around the room as we move together simultaneously, as if we’re one being. Rafe gives when I take; he takes when I give. We’re in perfect unison, and I wonder how I could’ve ever wanted anyone else.
Just as the wave of my orgasm crests, Rafe grips my hips and rolls us over until his hard body hovers over me. He closes the distance between us, pressing down on top of me so we’re skin to skin. Nothing can come between us. I don’t ever want it to.
Because this? This is the ultimate intimacy.
Anyone who says the missionary position isn’t sexy simply isn’t doing it right. Because missionary with Rafe? It’s one of my favorite positions. He’s stretched out over me, every inch of our bodies touching, connected. We’re the perfect fit. As if we were meant for each other. As if our bodies were molded exactly for this. For each other.
