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I nod. His bright eyes find mine. In this silent moment there’s so much we’re saying. The soundless words are floating around us, wrapped in hushed, deep emotions. And I let them fill me, just like Raph has filled my life.
After a few more seconds, he slides his arms under my thighs, pushing them open and tilting my pelvis higher. My shirt is falling over my shoulder, but I don’t take it off; my hands are locked behind his neck. He starts pumping his hips, slowly at first, but quickly reaching a bruising rhythm. I hold onto him and let him rile me. He shifts slightly, and the head of his dick is again hitting my sweet spot. I let out a helpless gasp.
“Right there,” I whisper. “Don’t stop.”
He makes a sound that’s almost a snarl, his hips pistoning again and again until I explode in a million pieces. My scream reaches the gates of Heaven. He groans low in his throat and his thrusts turn fast and shallow, then he roars like a damn bear and shoots all the way deep inside me. More spurts of cum come out of my cock at the feel of him filling me up. He’s still grunting, eyes almost closed, lips open in bliss. I push my tongue into his mouth and suck hard.
Raph curls my trembling legs around his waist again, making me whimper at the feel of his half-hard cock pushing deeper in me. His large hands are rubbing up and down my body. After several minutes, I feel Raph’s long fingers rubbing over my stretched, and still very full, hole. Wetness starts leaking out.
I let him explore but I can’t stop the unhappy moan leaving my chest when his cock slides out of me. He quickly replaces it with two thick fingers though, chasing away the emptiness that assailed me. He’s gathering his cum and pushing it back, keeping it inside.
“I want to continue filling you. Making you mine,” Raph whispers, making my body shiver in response.
“Are you mine?” I boldly ask, looking straight into his green eyes.
His reply rumbles up his chest, “Fuck, yes. Can’t get rid of me anymore.”
“Don’t want to,” I confess, feeling the truth in my words.
“Good.” He slaps my ass hard and then kisses me.
“We need to go back downstairs,” I say with a long sigh.
He blinks a couple of times before pulling out his fingers and letting my feet fall back to the ground. I feel deliciously sore, and empty without any part of him filling me. But we’ll have time to do this all over again later. Instead of starting to gather his clothes, Raph grabs my wrist. “Whatever happens, Michael, remember. We belong together.”
The words sound ominous, like he’s expecting something bad to happen. But the resolute, unwavering way he’s staring at me soothes the foreboding feeling.
Chapter 11
MICHAEL
When I come out of the bathroom, finally presentable again, Raph is on the phone. It’s a work-related call, and I make my way downstairs alone to give him some privacy. Meg is coming out of the empty dining room when I arrive. Thank God everybody left, because Raph’s too-large shirt and my quite disheveled appearance scream ‘thoroughly fucked’to the four winds. I’m still riding my afterglow train and facing his brothers again right now would ruin that. Although I’d love to chat more with Sari.
“Good, just the person I wanted to talk to.” Meg’s smiling, but there’s still a strange thread of uneasiness between us. “Come with me.”
We turn into a long corridor studded with doors. After stopping in front of the last one, she gestures for me to enter a nice room. It looks like an office. A huge, old wooden desk sits on the right. It has a Tiffany lamp on one side and some papers on the other—guess Meg is not a messy-bessy like me. My mind goes back to the morgue and the disaster I still need to organize.
My gaze snags on the big fireplace in front of me, flanked by two big windows. Through the white curtains, I can see part of the garden at the back of the property, which tells me this room is at the corner of the house. This place is so big, I can easily get lost.
Two small sofas face each other on the left, but Meg points to one of the two armchairs near the desk and sits on the other one. When I park my ass down, she asks if I’d like a drink, but I politely refuse.
“What do you want to talk about?” I know I can be direct with Meg; there’s no need to use a more diplomatic approach.
“You and Raphael.”
Maybe she isn’t as approving as I originally thought? “What about us?”
“When he said you were his boyfriend… you looked as surprised as we all were by his claim.”
“Yes, I was surprised since we never talked about what we are to each other beforehand.”
“Did it bother you?”
I suddenly feel like this is a psychiatric evaluation, more than a chat between friends.
“Of course it did. But I kind of like it as well.” I feel my cheeks heating.
“Do you know why he behaves the way he does?”
