Page 26 of The Nephilim's Finesse

I nodded, not able to look into his eyes.

“Tell me where.”

“Everywhere.” I closed my eyes, feeling how my cheeks turned even hotter.

He took my hand in his and pulled me up to stand in front of him. Shutting my eyes, I waited for his next move.

“Tell me if you like this.” A featherlight weight caressed my lips, and I opened my eyes to see his thumb stroking over them. Slowly, I bobbed my head.

“And this.” His other hand ran along my neck, sending goosebumps all over me. I threw my head back, eyes closed, and savoured the feeling he sparked in me. His fingers moved down over my collarbone, along my arm, and stayed there as if to steady me. Then his thumb caressed my lips again; I opened my mouth and licked at his thumb, causing his pupils to dilate. He moved his hand away, focusing his eyes on my neck, where he caressed me. His fingers wandered south, around my breast.

“And this.”

I nodded and took in a sharp breath when he cupped my breast and stroked his finger over my nipple. The sparks this caress ignited were much brighter than I could ever achieve. My nipple stood up under the thin fabric. I didn’t wear a bra under the simple blue shirt. My legs went to jelly under his hand, but he held me tight with his other hand on my arm.

“Tell me where else.”

My brain didn’t register the words. His touch overloaded my senses, and only when Raph stopped his hand did I open my eyes to stare at him, confused.

“Tell me where else I should touch you.”

“Everywhere. Just don’t stop,” I whispered.

A small smile was on his lips before his look went serious again. His hand moved to my belly, under my shirt, and up to my breasts. With both thumbs, he circled my nipples, pinched them, and smoothed the bolts of electricity that ran through me with caresses before starting this pleasant torture again.

I leant back, pressing my breasts into his hands, and submitted to this feeling, to be in his hands, to feel this pleasure, getting aroused by the touch of a man. Heat pooled between my legs, and my core started to ache. Was this normal? Should it be this way?

Raph let go of me, but before I could protest, he stripped me of my shirt and skirt. I didn’t care that I was naked; I just wanted his hands on me again.

“Lie down.”

I turned and moved onto the bed. Raph was standing before it, his erection pulsing in his jeans. He removed his t-shirt. Holy mother, he was delicious. All his muscles were pure perfection, his chest hair inviting me to run my fingers through it. I opened my legs, inviting him to get between them to touch me again.

Raph looked down at me, swallowed hard, and licked his lips. “It appears you’re wet… for me.”

Another shiver of pleasure ran through me. “Touch me.”

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he laid his hands on my ankles. Slowly, they moved upwards, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Passing my knees, his hands moved along my outer thighs, then back to my knees, then along my inner thighs. He stopped at the apex and pushed my thighs apart, spreading myself even more before him.

“So wet for me,” he whispered.

With one finger, he touched me, and my body jerked back.

“There be no avoiding this, thou little harlot,” the warlock hissed. “Twitch and squirm as you may. I am sure to enjoy the spectacle of it.” With that, he thrust his grimy finger into me, causing me to yelp in agony, both for the pain and for the malicious violation of my person.

“Ah, so tight and dry! Not that it matters; this will only increase your suffering!” He laughed and loosed his hose.

I struggled against my manacles in feeble attempts at freedom, but they refused to succumb to my distress. His foul breath wafted towards me, and I thanked the heavens that he had abstained from licking me. The warlock positioned himself between my parted thighs. His loathsome shaft stiffened and was ready for insertion.

“Victorija!” I was shaken violently by my shoulders. “Victorija!” I focused on warm, brown eyes. My heart beat frantically in my chest as I looked around. I wasn’t in the dungeon anymore; I lay on a bed in another prison, naked before another captor. Horrified, I crawled away from him, pulling the sheets over me.

“Are you all right? What happened?” Concern was written over his face.

“Go away,” I said softly, not wanting him to see how weak I felt, how close to crying I was.

He didn’t move. “I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”

Pressing my lips together, I shook my head. “I don’t have to answer you.” Shielding myself even more from him, I let my hate surface. He was responsible for capturing me; he stole my freedom; he made this silly proposal; he brought me into this situation; he made me want him. It was all his fault. And I hated him for it.

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