Page 5 of Monsters Carve Thrones
“You looked like a fucking goddess out there,” he rasped against my neck. “And every man who stared at you knew they’d lose their life if they so much as breathed wrong.”
He spun me, unfastening the delicate row of buttons Laura had secured earlier, undoing every one with a patience that made me ache.“You’re beautiful, baby,” he said, dragging the gown from my body.
I gasped as the silk hit the floor, leaving me in white lace panties.
He didn’t give me time to respond. Rafe pounced.
My back hit the wall before I could even catch my breath. His mouth crushed against mine. His hands were everywhere, gripping my hips, sliding up my thighs, cupping my breasts.
“Look at you,” he growled into my mouth. “Fuck, you’re perfect. Leave those pretty white heels on.”
His voice was thick with want. Command. Worship. He dropped to his knees, mouth hot against my skin as he kissed a path down my torso. His hands were firm and unrelenting as he dragged my panties down my legs. My breath stuttered right there.
“Mine now,” he murmured against my aching pussy. “And forever.”
And then he lifted my leg over his shoulder and devoured me. His tongue licked through me with long, slow strokes that made my legs tremble, his hands pinning my thighs apart like he’d tie me to the wall if he had to.
“Oh, fuck,” I panted, my hips desperately grinding into him. Rafe knew exactly what to do with my body. So much so, that I’d orgasm within minutes. I moaned, my hands tangling in his hair as he expertly fucked me with his mouth relentlessly, until I came with a cry that echoed off the high hotel walls.
But he didn’t stop.
He stood abruptly, lifting me like I weighed nothing, and carried me to the bed. My back hit the mattress in a tangle of limbs and soft moans, the world spinning as he stripped off his jacket, his shirt, and his belt, never once taking his eyes off me.
My mouth went dry at the sight of him. Ripped muscle, inked skin, eyes dark with primal lust. He crawled over me like a wolf, eager to tear into me.
“You’re shaking,” he said with a wild grin. “Is it fear, Mrs. Vaughan?”
“No,” I breathed, goosebumps breaking out at his words. “It’s need.”
“Good,” he said. “Because I’m going to give you everything. But not gently.”
“You know I like it when you’re rough with me.” I bit my lip under his heavy-lidded glacial gaze.
His cock pressed hard and thick against my thigh, and I arched up into him desperately. My hunger for him was so wild I almost wanted to cry and beg for him to just fuck me already.
As if he could see my internal struggle, he caught my jaw in one hand and tilted my head so I met his gaze. And then he thrust into me with one brutal, perfect stroke.
I cried out in pleasure, shock, and pure fucking bliss. My hands flew to his back as he filled me completely.
He groaned, his muscular arms bracing on either side of me. “So fucking tight, baby.” A deep thrust. “My wife.”
Thrust.
“My fuckingwife.”
My eyes rolled back as his cock stretched me. He set a punishing rhythm, hips slamming into mine, a large hand gripping my wrists and pinning them above my head. His mouth found my throat, my collarbone, my breast–biting, sucking, and marking. I returned the favor, nipping at his jaw and his neck.
“You’re mine,” he snarled, his other hand closing around my throat. “Say it.”
“Yes, sir,” I gasped. “I’m yours.”
He moved faster. “Say my fucking name, little doe.”
“Rafe,” I moaned, tilting my hips as if I could take him deeper.
He growled, the sound torn from his chest like it had been buried there for years. He flipped me effortlessly onto my stomach, yanked my hips up, and slammed back into me so deep I saw stars.
“You’re going to feel me fordays,” he said, voice a snarl in the dark. “Every time you sit, every time you walk–”
