Page 73 of Deal with the Devil
Each thrust sends shockwaves through my entire body. The electric current tingles from my pussy all the way to my toes.
I bury my face and scream. I’m not even sure what I’m saying.
Just that I’m his. That his dick feels so good and I’m so damn close.
“Look at you,” he growls, one hand sliding up my damp spine to tangle in my hair. “Taking me so perfectly. You were made for this, weren't you, dolcezza? Your little pussy was made for my big cock.”
I'm beyond any more words, reduced to desperate moans and pleas as he pushes me to the edge. The new angle has him hitting that perfect spot with every stroke, building pressure inside me that threatens to tear me apart.
I slide my hand under me and start playing with my clit, rubbing myself as he fucks me hard and fast.
That’s all it takes for me to break.
I come in a spiral of hot pleasure, crying and convulsing.
The orgasm rushes me all at once. Wave after wave of pleasure crashes over me until I’m going limp and I feel like I’m floating.
Il Diavolo groans at the way my pussy ripples around him, so slick, hot and snug. He slams into me, crushing my hips in his grip, as he plants himself deep and spills his warm seed inside me.
He collapses on top of me, breathing hard, our bodies slick with sweat and still trembling from the intensity of what just happened.
It takes us a moment to come down from our orgasms. I roll over, suddenly drowsy but sated. I’m expecting to find Il Diavolo having one of two reactions. Either the acceptance he’d spoken to earlier or his regression into anger that he’s lost control.
Neither of those things are what I find.
He’s changed. His face has gone slack, his features no longer naturally clenched. Then I realize what’s happening.
“Rafael?” I choke out. I’m still wrapped in the bedsheets, buzzing from the pleasure Il Diavolo wreaked on my body.
But suddenly none of it matters as I realize the man lying beside me is changing before my eyes. It’s the night I tried to escape in reverse—Il Diavolo is vanishing as Rafael returns in a series of ragged breaths, contorted features, and pained grimaces.
His bare, muscled chest heaves air, breathing like he’s run several miles. Even his eyes change, becoming more human and alive.
His brows draw together, the unfocused look on his face that of someone waking to a new reality.
I reach for him. My hands shake, frantic with urgency and hope that it’s really him. He’s reemerged after being gone for so long.
“I’m here,” I whisper, cupping his bearded face. I rub my thumb across his jaw like he likes. “You’re here. We’re together, Rafael. Stay with me, okay? Just... just look at me. Focus on me. Don’t go away again. Please.”
He says nothing as he peers at me, blinking dazedly.
But he doesn’t need to speak right now. Iknowit’s him. He’s come back like Daniela said he would.
He groans my name, the sound gruff and primal like he’s getting used to words again, and then he buries his face in my neck. I hold him close, on the verge of tears, fingers threading through his rumpled dark hair.
Relief so powerful it’s dizzying sweeps me up, rendering me as speechless as he is.
He pulls away finally for another long look at me. Then he’s pressing his lips to mine, cradling my face in his large hands so gently the tearsdocome.
…but for a different reason than I expected.
“I’ll always find my way back to you,” he murmurs against my lips. “No matter who tries to keep me away, dolcezza. Even if it’s myself doing it.”
I start to nod, but then the sob working its way out bubbles to the surface. Our kiss goes from warm and soft to wet and salty fast. I draw back, wiping at my face.
The shame and guilt is so deep I don’t even know where to begin.
I’m lying wrapped in a bedsheet. Surely Rafael is going to put two and two together about what I had just been doing…
