Page 45 of My Dark Fairy Tale
“Imagining all the things I could teach you. The ways I could corrupt that pure mind of yours. I want to feed you the seeds of a pomegranate from the underworld even knowing you can never go back after tasting them.”
“I prefer to think Persephone chose to stay half the year with Hades,” I said, finding the courage to reach between my thighs to cup my sex. “I think she couldn’t live any longer without knowing what it was like to taste the dark.”
Raffa shot a quick glance to my hand and rumbled low in his chest. “Do you want me to teach you how I like my cock to be sucked? Show you how many times I can make you come on my tongue? You wanted adventure, and I am happy to be your guide.”
“You hate being a guide,” I quipped, even as I rubbed lightly at the growing damp spot on my panties, blushing as the smell of my arousal filled the car.
“I truly cannot imagine anything better than guiding you through this,” he admitted baldly as he abruptly swerved the car, and I realized we had driven into the gravel parking lot at the winery.
Before I could fully remove my hand, Raffa’s large palm was pushing it back against my pussy.
“Seal our deal with your first taste,” he coaxed, splitting our fingers over my mound to dig beneath the edge of my panties.
I gasped, neck going limp as my fingertips dipped into the hot well at my entrance. Raffa pressed his forehead to my temple, his breath hot on my neck, his eyes fixed to our connection between my legs.
“Bellissima,” he muttered.
Beautiful.
I panted as he moved our fingers through my wetness, wondering if he would make me orgasm right there in the car. We were hidden behind some kind of shed and surrounded by linden trees on two sides, so there was privacy, but the threat of exposure made me so hot I burned.
Instead, he pulled our hands away, two fingers glistening with my juices as he raised them to hover between us. He brought his hand to his mouth, painting the wetness along his bottom lip. His eyes seemed to stare straight through me, glowing like banked coals as, slowly, I followed his silent order to echo him and traced my mouth with my essence.
My tongue peeked out to touch the gloss, and I shivered delicately as the flavor bloomed on my taste buds.
“Mmm,” I hummed, but before I could say any more, Raffa’s clean hand was sliding through the back of my hair and tugging hard. My torso twisted toward him, head canting back to alleviate the strain, and my mouth parted on a gasp.
A moment later, he ate that sound and the taste of myfigaout of my mouth with his tongue.
I groaned shamelessly at the invasion, hands flying up to curl over his shoulders so I could cling to him as he rocked everything I’d known off its axis. He tasted like me but also like him, dark and male, his scent heady in my nose and the heat of his mouth the epicenter of my universe.
I thought,So this is what it’s like to be kissed.
This is what it’s like to feel lust like a lightning bolt, electricity fizzing through every vein.
Without thinking, I pulled him closer, trying to kiss him even deeper.
His moan was my reward, vibrating from his mouth to mine. In that moment, I thought I would have done anything to earn that sound from him again and again.
In that moment, I had never felt so alive.
When Raffa finally pulled away, forehead pressed to mine, breath wafting across my wet, swollen lips, soothing the stubble burn he’d left on my skin, I found my eyes mortifyingly damp.
“Cerbiatta,” he murmured, releasing my hair to cup the entire back of my skull in one big hand.
It was a question and consolation without making me feel foolish or too young.
I laughed as a single tear dislodged and rolled down my cheek. “I’ve never done that before. I always wanted to. Always dreamed of kissing and ... more. But I was sick or too sheltered, and the opportunity never came. This, well, it was better than I ever imagined. I’m sorry for crying. It’s silly.”
“Non sciocco,” he corrected firmly as his other thumb caught the tear and brought that to his mouth too. He paused to lick the salt from his skin in a way that was startlingly hot. “I understand wanting something for so long and believing you will never have it.”
“What do you want?” I asked, stripped of my usual shyness by our proximity and the simple but devastating act of sharing the taste of me between our lips.
His eyes shuttered, but when I cupped his cheek in one hand, he answered, “To be the man who deserves that look on your face.”
“What look?” I asked, afraid of the question—and the answer—but not enough to take it back.
“Like I could pull the stars from the sky for you if only you asked me to.”
