Page 15 of One
What does that even mean?
“I don’t care if you’re King Midas or King Kong. You can’t just tell me we’ll…do itand expect me to comply,” I counter.
We finally reach my floor landing. Raphael leans backward and I reluctantly untangle myself from his strong body. As soon as my good foot is on the brown linoleum, he’s on me. He grabs my left leg—firm, but gentle enough not to hurt my ankle—and hoists it up on his hip. My back finds the hard wall while we are chest to chest. His addictive scent, the hard planes of his body and his fingers gripping a fistful of my hair make me dizzy.
“Oh, but you will.” He nips my ear, making me whimper. “Picture this, I’m behind you. My hand is wrapped around your leaking, throbbing dick. And I’m jerking you off while railing your bouncing, tight ass. So. Damn. Hard. Over and over.” His detailed description sends a bolt of fire down my body to my hard-as-a-rock dick. And Iampicturing it. Can almost feel it. Him, moving inside me.
“We’ll be so fucking good, babe,” he growls into my ear while thrusting his hips forward. There are clothes between us, but I can feel his stiff cock rubbing against mine, and God, I want it. So badly. Don’t care if he’s the most arrogant man I’ve ever met. Because I’ve never felt this level of lust toward another guy before.
He pulls on my hair, tilting my head to the side. I barely notice the plastic bag falling from my fingers on the floor with a thud, because his lips are feather-like as they brush my neck, his breath hot on the sensitive skin.
“Would you like that? To be stuffed with cock? Withmycock?”
And I can feel it’s a very big one. He bites my earlobe hard, and a burst of electricity rushes down from there to my spine. I can’t reply. I can’t even swallow anymore. My breath is chopped and broken. My nails dig into his shoulders, surely leaving half-moon indents in his skin. That seems to spur him on.
His fingers move up, getting a bruising handful of my asscheek, squeezing it harder. Fuck, yes. I wish we were naked, to feel each one of those fingertips sinking into my skin.
I shift, attempting to push him closer to me, but I jostle my ankle, and a painful whimper escapes from my lips. He turns rigid against me, and then leans back. Fuckingawayfrom me. His dark, hungry eyes study my face. He’s so damn beautiful. I’m about to pull him back and suck on those red lips for the first time, when he takes a step back. He sighs, stroking his face.
That’s when reality punches me right in the gut. What the fuck just happened? I was humping a guy in the hallway of my apartment building. Where all my neighbors could see me. An overbearing, bossy guy I barely know and with whom I just shared a very dangerous experience. This is so out of character for me. Maybe it’s the shock causing my neurons to misfire inside my brain.
I open my palms on the wall behind me, enjoying the coolness for a second and letting it ground me in my surroundings. Then, pushing myself away, I hop on one foot toward my door, gritting my teeth as I try not to look at Raphael. It’s the first one on the right, so he has no time to try and help me.
He still has my keys and quickly makes use of them. I always leave the entrance light on—hate dark rooms. It’s narrow and small, but Raphael finds a way to curl his arm around my waist and takes me to the dark green Ikea couch in the living room. My apartment is sparsely furnished. I spend a lot of time outside, so a few pieces of furniture and a couple of mementos are the only things decorating the room.
Raphael stands there, looking around silently. After a minute, the silence gets uncomfortable.
“You probably have to go take care of important… millionaire stuff.” I try to give him an opening, but he doesn’t take it.
“You recognized me?” He seems surprised. Maybe he’s not used to it?
“We both work in the medical world, and your company is well-known.” I shrug, since I don’t really care about notoriety.
“I see.” His face turns blank.“Yes, I’m a busy man.”
“Oh.” I fail to hide my disappointment. Because I don’t want him to leave. But since my body is not up for sex, there’s no reason for Raphael to stay. “Of course. Ummm, thanks for all your help. And you know, saving my life. Also, I’m a fan of your brother’s work, and your company’s results. So, mhm, yeah, thanks for that too.” And I’m rambling.
“Where’s the bathroom?” he asks, completely ignoring my words.
“The first door on the right.” I point him toward it.
He disappears behind it, and I find myself staring at the space where he was standing. This guy is an enigma. He’s demanding and flirty, powerful and gentle. All-consuming. Already taking up too much space in my head. I’ve just met him, and he’s already inside my apartment. Well, he actually saved my life so I can probably trust him. Is that why I feel a pull toward him? At times it almost feels like I’ve met him already. But I know I haven’t.
Fuck, I’m tired and feel filthy, and in fucking pain. I need a hot shower, but Raphael is still in the bathroom.
After another long while, I can’t stand it anymore. I awkwardly find my way to the bedroom, grabbing at furniture and holding myself on the walls while trying not to face-plant on the floor. I take a few comfy clothes out of the dresser and drop them on the bed, bringing only a shirt with me.
The en suite bathroom’s light flickers, reminding me that I need to change it. I lock the door behind me and pull off my pants. It takes longer than usual, and I huff annoyingly at my stupid foot. I yank the polo off and avoid my reflection in the mirror while stepping inside the shower. The water cascading on my shoulders feels good, but I can’t completely enjoy the soothing feeling due to my aching ankle. I wash and dry myself very quickly, putting the red cotton shirt back on, but leaving it unbuttoned. Then I wrap a towel around my waist before hopping toward the door.
I probably should’ve waited for Raphael to finish and said my goodbyes. But I really needed to wash tonight’s happening off my body. And the truth is that I feel a prickle of uneasiness at the thought of him leaving. Preposterous, I know. This whole evening has felt surreal to me from the moment I laid my eyes on him.
I unlock the door and pull on the knob, and then freeze when I find the man who took a front seat to my thoughts standing in front of me. With a frown on his face. His leather jacket is gone, arms crossed over his chest in a delicious display of bulging biceps. His feet are bare.What?
“You should have waited for me! You could have slipped and broken your arm, or even your neck.” He scolds me while his eyes travel down my bare torso. I suck in a breath, his gaze feeling like a physical touch. He doesn’t stop ogling my chest. “You have hair,” he whispers, sounding confused and out of breath.
I look at my pecs, peppered with blond hair. Doesn’t he like chest hair? I have only a few—not a Robin Williams rug. Is it the light color he doesn’t like?
“Fuck!” I hear him swear, and in the next moment he’s on me again. His hand curls loosely around my throat. The other falls on my waist, gripping the towel. This time, his nose is touching mine, and his green irises are so close my eyes are crossing. Or perhaps it’s the feel of his mouth brushing against mine. Not kissing… yet. My tongue comes out to slick my lips and accidentally touches his. The fingers around my throat tighten slightly, and I’m gasping for air at the hard look filling his eyes.
