Page 31 of One
“I woke up with a body next to me when I’m pretty sure I went to bed alone.” I think the reason for my panic is obvious.
“I know. I tucked you in before going out.” He moves to the nightstand and sets the knife down. “And get used to having me in your bed.”
I stare at him, mouth gaping. “How did you get in, and why do you have a knife ready when you sleep?”
“Protection. And I took your extra key from the bowl in the entrance,” he replies oh-so-casually.
“You took my extra key? Without asking me?” My voice sounds high pitched. Even though part of my brain isn’t surprised by Raph’s freaky behavior. He’s been unreal since I met him.
He just shrugs.Shrugs.
“That’s not customary or acceptable behavior,” I accuse him.
“My brain doesn’t really think in terms of societal guides.” Again, this nonsensical excuse.
I sniff, crossing my arms over my chest. “I gathered that from your brazenness and lack of understanding personal space.”
“Only with you, piglet.” My irritation decreases slightly, even though I hate that nickname. It’s a lie. I don’t anymore. After only one day I just… detest it.
“Aren’t I the lucky one?” My words are dripping with sarcasm.
“No, I am. But I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” How can such an arrogant, infuriating person turn sweet and so damn confusing in a matter of seconds?
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I’m barely able to say the words before Raph is on me, kissing me wildly. My flaccid cock turns to steel in two seconds flat, making me feel dizzy as all the blood rushes down to it. It’s like Raph is the pied piper of my dick, hypnotizing it with his sexy grunts and turning it into his stiff, eager slave.
He pins me down on the mattress, slotting his hips between my legs. An expanse of warm skin blankets me. His hands run up my torso, pulling my shirt up while stroking every part of me. I wrap my arms around his neck, letting the fabric bunch under my chin. But Raph doesn’t seem bothered by it. His nose nuzzles the blond hair covering my pecs and he moans, stroking his cheeks on the rough area. His mouth turns on my nipple, sucking, nipping, lapping at the sting. My body arches toward the ceiling, mouth open in a silent cry.
“As soon as you get better, I’ll cover you in my cum. Every fucking inch of you.” He growls, moving to the other nipple. His mouth is relentless, leaving small bruises all over my torso and making me shiver with desire.
“More,” I choke out, whimpering when the cool air hits the wet path his tongue is leaving on my skin. I love when he describes all the dirty ways he’ll fuck me.
“Every hole full of my seed. Busting with it. Dripping all over your body. Just so everybody will know not to touch you.”
“Oh god.” He bites my hip hard, surely leaving the sign of his teeth. I scream in delight, my cock leaking with heavy drops of precum.
His mouth suddenly envelopes my length, taking me all the way down his throat, and I moan like a bitch in fucking heat. He starts sucking me hard, bobbing his head fast while his nails scratch my sides, making me burn. I look down and find his lust-filled eyes zeroed in on me. I can’t look away, even though I feel vulnerable under his deep gaze. But at the same time, I want him to see me. I want to give him all of me, to let go and fall into Raph’s strong arms.
My hand runs through his soft hair, and I grip a handful loosely, knowing very well he’s the one in charge but needing to feel him closer. His wicked tongue is massaging the underside of my dick every time he takes me back in. And his mouth… his warm, wet, sucking mouth is my cock’s favorite place in the world.
When my hips start to thrust up, he lets go and climbs back up until we’re face to face. He spits on his hand and then wraps his large palm around both of us, starting a wild rough tempo. I cry and he takes advantage of my parted lips, slipping his tongue inside, letting me taste myself in his mouth. Then he grips my lower lip between his teeth and growls like an animal, thrusting his hips against mine in a frantic rhythm.
When my lip slips from his teeth I shamelessly beg him, unable to stop myself. “Bite me again. Please.” And I tilt my head, offering my shoulder to him.
As soon as I feel the pain radiating from the base of my neck, I come like a freight train, splashing on my belly and all over his hand. He starts pounding me on the mattress, his teeth and heavy body holding me in place, forcing me to take it. And I do. Only, I wish he was inside me.
He suddenly leans his head back and I kiss him with a desperate moan, biting his lip hard. His thick blood falls on my tongue and I suck, eager for more. He suddenly pushes back on his knees, points his cock at my chest and shoots rope after rope all over me, roaring his pleasure. I lick some of it off my lips, deeply enjoying the taste of his cum mixed with his blood. My mind is too drunk on pleasure to be horrified by my actions.
His big hand spreads our mixed cum on my cock, chest, and neck. His eyes half-closed, a low, satisfied hum leaves his lips. He looks blissed out. Or maybe I’m projecting because I’m on cloud-afterglow-nine, never to descend to earth again.
But fuck, I still can’t believe he’s with me. With his status and looks, he could have whoever he wanted. Actors, supermodels… both at the same time. But instead, he’s taking care of a weird forensic pathologist who can’t even fuck properly at the moment. And I’m starting to feel things for him.
He rolls us gently, careful of my foot—which only slightly stings—and I find myself half on top of him. Our cum drying between us is not a pleasant feeling. But I actually kind of like it. I feel claimed, just like I did at the morgue in front of the detective, with his hand around my neck.
I lift my head, propping it on my elbow while my eyes take their time studying his beautiful face. His hand on my ass squeezes the cheek roughly, unsurprisingly making my dick twitch. With the other, he slowly—like he’s taking his time to totally enjoy the moment—shifts a strand of my hair away from my forehead. Almost reverently. He’s such a paradox with all his incongruities and contradictions.
I'm falling deeper into his intense jade eyes when I feel a prickling sensation at the back of my mind. A weird impression that only happens when I’m missing something, and my brain is trying to puzzle all the pieces together.
Something on Raph’s inner wrist catches my eye, and I grab his hand to look at it more clearly. It’s a number. And although I have no tattoos on my skin, I have seen multiple ones on the bodies at the morgue. The one on Raph looks different. The skin is darker red, like it has been burned, not tattooed. And there are faded lines around the number that reminds me of a TV documentary I saw a while ago. Where horses were branded with a blazing hot metal pole with the letter W at the end—the initial of the owner’s surname.
