Page 16 of One
“Michael.” He hisses my name as both a reproach and a dirty promise. Then his teeth are on my lower lip, biting and pulling the flesh. And Jesus, I want him to tear off my towel and fuck me right here, standing against my bathroom door.
He lets go of my lip and looks straight into my dilated pupils. “Your ass will be mine. But not tonight. Not when you can barely stand. You need to recover for what I have in mind.”
My body visibly deflates at his words. But tingles shoot down my balls when his tongue slowly licks the sting he caused. As soon as he’s done, I pull my aching, lower lip into my mouth, eager to taste him. And fuck, I want more. Still can’t believe I’m salivating like a St. Bernard over a stranger.
I nod jerkily as I’m still trying to get my brain to work correctly. “So bossy.” It’s the only thing that I’m able to utter.
“You have no idea, babe. No more locking doors.”
A shiver rolls down my spine and I blink a couple of times, trying to restart some of my brain cells.
Raphael takes me to the edge of the bed where I sit. Then he grabs the sweats and t-shirt I left on the mattress, leaving the briefs behind. Down on his knees at my feet, he then helps me into the pants.
“Briefs?” I ask him while he’s pulling the cotton fabric over my legs. Even though my foot throbs, his obsequious position gives my filthy imagination new scenarios I want so badly to turn into reality.
“You don’t need them,” he states without lifting his eyes up from his task. His black hair looks so luscious I feel the urge to run a hand through it.
“I don’t?” I smile down at him, even though he can’t see me.
“Nope. Just like you don’t need a hideous, punch-in-the-eye shirt. But I’ll allow it for tonight. If you keep it open,” he says matter-of-factly.
“Youwill allow it. Okay, your domineering act is getting a little excessive. And this shirt is fine.” I try to sound assertive, but the truth is that I’m tired and…
“You like it.”
He’s right, I do. But the rapid pace of whatever is happening between us is disconcerting. Scary, even. And at the same time feels natural. How is that even possible?
He quickly gets rid of the towel around my waist and his eyes fall on my half-hard cock. He bites down on his lower lip, and my mind conjures a thousand pornographic images involving that slick mouth. But then he finishes fixing my pants and passes me a glass of water and a couple of pills.
“Drink.”
They look like painkillers, and, when I glance to my left, I spot the bottle of medicine on the nightstand. He must have found them in the kitchen cupboard. I frown at the thought of him rifling through my things. But even though it bothers me, I’m too exhausted and not annoyed enough to care. Painkillers always have a strong effect on me, but my ankle is hurting like a bitch, so I swallow them without argument and finish the water.
“Attaboy.”
That praise again, followed by his crooked smile, gets me right in the chest. A warm sensation fills me, and my cheeks are suddenly hot.
We move to the living room. He’s emptied the convenience store bag on the counter; after grabbing a bag of chips and drinks, he sits next to me on the sofa.
“What are we watching?” He lifts his feet next to mine on the square coffee table and stretches his arm on the back of the sofa behind my head. His thicker thigh pushes against mine, and I have to fight the desire to lay my head on his pec. He smells so damn good.
“You’re staying.” My statement sounds dubious to my own ears.
“Yeah. Can’t get rid of me again.”Again?“You like thrillers?” he asks me, scrolling down my Netflix account. He looks completely at ease in my living room. On my couch. Near me.
“Detective stories.”
“You have that in common with my mother,” he casually says. And I suddenly feel the need to know more about him.
“You have a brother, right?”
“Yes.”
“I follow his incredible work.” I can’t hide the excitement from my voice.
“One brother. And four foster brothers. You?”
“Wow. That sounds nice and crowded.”
