Page 232 of Rosetti Family New York
He lifts my hips gently and rolls my panties down my legs. My breath catches as he pushes my dress higher, dragging his mouth up the inside of my thigh. I’m already shaking when his tongue finds me. Slow at first, then deeper, darker, until I can’t remember my own name.
“Rafe—oh my God—”
He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t rush. He’s focused, relentless. Like worship. Like punishment. Like both.
When I come undone, he holds me through it, hands firm on my hips, mouth still devouring me, my cry swallowed by the bass thumping from the dance floor below.
He stands then, still fully clothed, fire in his eyes. Wordlessly, he pulls me to my feet and leads me to the glass. Slowly, he slides my dress up over my head, then undoes my bra until I’m standing before him completely naked.
“Say it, Rafe,” I demand, losing my mind.
“Going to fuck you so hard,” he says, his voice low and ragged.
The cool glass is on my back, his body hot against mine, and I’m a frenzy of wanting him.
I kiss him, a raw and daring kiss, and it sets us both on fire.
“God, Sloane,” he groans.
I unbuckle his belt, undo his button, and slide open his fly. His cock is huge and eager, and when I hold it in my palm, my man moans.
“What else?” I taunt, feeling the madness in my voice. “Say it.”
“Going to make you scream,” he says, desperate and relentless.
A soft whimper spills from my lips.
“Turn around,” he says, voice low and wrecked. “Hands on the glass.”
“Someone might—”
“They won’t see. But you will.” His voice is pure sin. “You’ll see everything. While I take you apart.”
I obey.
He pushes into me, one hard thrust, and I lose it. He’s inside, hot and perfect, and I’m so full of him I can’t stand it. He makes me mad with need, the way he doesn’t hold back. The way he gives me all of himself.
“Rafaele!” I cry, suddenly wishing everyone downstairs could hear me call his name.
“Fuck,” he growls. “You feel so good.”
The glass is cold on my palms. His hands are fire. When he pushes into me, it’s too much and not enough all at once.
“Say it,” he grits out against my shoulder. “Say you’re mine.”
“I’m yours,” I gasp. “I’ve always been yours.”
His rhythm turns savage. One hand slips up to my throat, not choking, just holding. Anchoring. Marking me.
“Good girl,” he growls. “Now let them dance. Let them drink. Let them know who you fucking belong to.”
He takes me harder, wild and unrestrained. The glass is vibrating with our bodies, our madness, our everything. We’re out of control, and I’ve never wanted him more. He drives me to the edge, past the edge, to the place where I’m about to fall.
“Oh god,” I say, gripping him, ready to explode. “Rafe!”
“Come for me,” he demands. “Come hard, princess.”
I do. I shatter, everything a blur of heat and wildness. I come apart in his arms, shaking, laughing, losing my mind. He takes me with him, one more thrust and he’s gone too. He groans, low and deep, holding me tight, holding me up, keeping me his. We come down, breathless and raw, and I’m not sure I can ever have enough.
