Page 18 of Raphael
He leans into my touch, his eyes closing briefly. "Sometimes. And sometimes I'm just the terrible person."
"I don't believe that."
His eyes open, searching mine. "You should go to bed, Annie. Alone."
"Is that what you want?"
"What I want," he growls, "is to bend you over this counter and fuck you until you can't remember your own name. I want to taste every inch of your body and hear you scream when you come for the first time with something besides your own fingers inside you."
His words send liquid heat pooling between my thighs. I've never been spoken to like this—so raw, so honest, so viscerally sexual—and my body responds with an intensity that frightens and thrills me.
"Then why don't you?" I whisper.
"Because you deserve better than a quick fuck in the kitchen with a man who just committed murder." His hands slide down my arms, then release me completely. "Because your first time should be special, not desperate and rough with someone who can barely control himself around you."
The tenderness beneath his crude words undoes me. This dangerous man, capable of violence I can barely comprehend, is concerned about making my first time special. It's this contradiction that draws me to him even more than his physical appeal.
"What if I don't want gentle and special?" I challenge, though my voice trembles slightly. "What if I want desperate and rough? What if I've spent twenty-one years being careful and good and responsible, and for once I want to be reckless?"
Raphael's eyes darken to nearly black. "Don't tempt me, Annie. My control is hanging by a thread here."
I glance down again, unable to help myself. His erection strains visibly against his pants. As I watch, it throbs again, pressing insistently against the confining fabric.
"I should go to bed," I say reluctantly, recognizing that we're both too close to the edge. "Alone. Like you said."
Relief and disappointment war on his face. "That's... probably best."
I take a step back, putting space between us, though every cell in my body protests the distance. "But Raphael?"
"Yes?"
"This conversation isn't over. Just postponed."
A smirk touches his lips. "Noted."
I turn to leave, then pause in the doorway, looking back over my shoulder. "Sweet dreams."
"There won't be anything sweet about them tonight," he growls, and the naked want in his voice follows me all the way back to the guest room, where I collapse onto the bed, my heart racing and my body aching for something I've only just begun to understand.
Chapter 7 - Raphael
"There won't be anything sweet about them tonight."
I watch Annie walk away, her hips swaying slightly in those sleep shorts that barely cover her ass. The moment she's out of sight, I slam my fist against the countertop, trying to regain some semblance of control.
"Fuck!" I hiss into the empty kitchen.
My cock is so hard it's painful, straining against my pants like it's trying to break free. I haven't been this turned on in years, maybe ever. The combination of her confession about being a virgin, the way she looked at me with those innocent amber eyes while saying such filthy things, the sheer fucking audacity of her standing there telling me she wants me despite knowing what I am...
I need release before I lose my mind completely.
I make my way to my bedroom, checking Marco's room first out of habit. He's sound asleep, clutching his dinosaur, completely unaware that his father is currently fighting the urge to fuck his nanny senseless.
Once inside my room, I take a deep breath and strip off my clothes. My cock springs free, standing at full attention, the head purple and weeping. I wrap my hand around it, groaning at even that minimal contact.
"Jesus Christ," I mutter, falling back onto my bed.
I start stroking myself, trying to relieve the unbearable pressure. Images of Annie flood my mind. Her lips parted as I kissed her, her eyes darkening with desire, the way she stared at my bulge. I imagine what she might look like naked, those curves she tries to hide under modest clothing fully exposed to my gaze.
