Page 28 of The Nephilim's Finesse

“Hey, stay with me,” Raph urged.

I focused back on him, shaking the memories aside. His brown, warm eyes held mine, and I gave him a slight nod. He moved his hand upwards, slowly, along my thigh. His touch was soft, caring, not rough or painful like…

“Focus your eyes on me. Don’t go there. Stay with me.”

His hand moved upward to the apex of my thighs. I braced myself. I knew he'd touch me there in a second. Yet, I jerked back when his finger stroked lightly over my folds.

“Sorry,” I whispered.

Why'd my body betray me? I didn’t want to show him my fear, anxiety, and unease that he would take something I didn’t want to give.

“It’s all right. Try to relax.” His soothing voice eased me as he held his finger in the same position.

I breathed to calm my nerves and get used to something touching my outer lips. After a while, I relaxed a bit.

“Is it all right if I move?”

I nodded, afraid my voice would betray me as much as my body.

When his finger moved, my body jerked again. I let out a frustrated sigh. This would never work. I was broken, and nothing would mend me.

Raph held out his hand, index finger pointed at me. “Take my hand and guide it. You have full control over it.”

I frowned. Wasn’t it his goal to touch me and bring me to a climax? If I could guide his finger, I could do it myself without his help. Still, he was more experienced than me, and I trusted him with this. I took his hand and housed myself more against the headboard until I nearly sat against it. I moved his hand between my legs, his pointed index finger to my folds. Nothing happened when he connected with my flesh, my body not moving away from him. He was right. As long as I was in control, I didn’t panic. I guided his finger up and down, along my outer folds, then between my labia, into my wetness. He felt different from me. His finger was more callused, and this roughness felt incredible against my sensitive skin. I let him dip a bit inside me, taking my wetness on his fingertip and moving it to my sensitive knot. I circled around it, my arousal climbing. The whole time, my eyes never left his. I drank in the sight of those warm pools of chocolate; let them guide me to more lust. My inner blockades eased; I got bolder. I dipped his finger deeper inside me two, three times before I inserted his finger completely. A little moan escaped me as I felt him inside me.

"Look at you," he praised me, his eyes drunk with desire.

I guided him out and inside again, savouring the feeling. Feeling his thumb tipping against my hand, I opened mine to let him lay his thumb on my sensitive knot. Now, I felt the double stimulation each time I guided him inside. He bent his index finger a bit while inside of me, and the sensation magnified. I moved his hand faster and faster, panting and moaning. At some point, I realised that I didn’t guide him anymore and only held onto his hand while he satisfied me. My arousal went higher and higher as his finger pumped in and out in a leisurely rhythm while his thumb massaged my sensitive spot. I felt that when he pushed the next time into me, he filled me even more. I looked down briefly to see that he had inserted two fingers before I focused back on his eyes. A small smile graced his lips, and his movements became faster and faster as his fingers worked into me.

"Let go, I’ve got you!"

He had his eyes locked on mine, pushing into me, and I felt myself losing control. The pleasure was too intense. My thighs started to tremble, everything cramped together, and before I could gather myself, I was flying, flying, seeing white with gold streaks while everything exploded around me.

I screamed out his name as my orgasm hit its peak, feeling it taking over every inch of my body until I was just a mass of quivering flesh in his hands. Raph held his steady rhythm until I rode out my climax. Then he stilled, his fingers still inside me, my hand around his ankle.

"Good," he said with a pleased chuckle rumbling through his chest.

Breathlessly, I released him, and he moved his fingers slowly out of me. Feeling suddenly empty, I wanted him inside me, all of him, not just his fingers. I spread my thighs wider for him, inviting him‌ in. He pulled away from me, laid his hands on my knees, and closed them gently.

“Another time,” he promised me.

I was fascinated by this man. He could be so brutal, fighting with me until the very end, defeating me even in battle. However, he could be so gentle, so caring, so selfless. He put my needs before his, and this, in a position where he had no reason to. He was my captor, after all; nobody would question what he did with me here. He could take, but until now, he only gave. Alas, he was my captor. Why was I going soft on his behalf? I stood up and dressed. He did this for a reason: to get answers out of me. Yet, I didn’t see calculation in his eyes when he pleasured me nor impatience to end this to get to the questioning part. No, I had the impression that he wanted me to mend, to gain a positive experience, that he enjoyed pleasing me, even that he liked me. Inwardly, I shook my head. No, I wasn’t going there. This was a business agreement, not a sentimental one.

“Ask your question.”

He tilted his head, thinking for a while. When he made up his mind, Raph straightened up.

“How'd you become a vampire?”

My gaze was fixed on a crack in the wall as I recalled the events of that winter night so long ago. A sudden flash blinded me, and I barely made it into the chair before the flashback hit me with full force.

I sat in our humble cottage, lit by but one flicker of the candle's flame, ever so anxious for the return of Goodwyn, my husband. Dreaded was more accurate. I had made supper a good while past, and now the food lay cold on the table. Yet, I dared not go to sleep. To do so would be to invite his vengeance with no logical spite or sin laid at my feet. He often sought to find a cause for ire: whether be it the looking upon him with ill regard, or if the heavens should pour down too hard with rain and wet, or even, perchance, if on other days they shone too brightly. Not mattering the why or wherefore—he'd have his way.

My hand caressed my swelling womb; it took two years to become with child. Secretly, I had drank herbal tea that the village midwife had told me the recipe‌ for. Goodwyn had found out, and I was once more punished with his belt's scourge. Afterwards, he forced himself on me nearly every day until my courses ceased. I didn’t want to be pregnant. Not that I didn't want a child—I did—but I didn’t want a child to be born into this world, not when he was in it. I was approximately four months along; nevertheless, this did nothing to prevent him from hurting me. He hit me more in the face instead of kicking me and told me to be thankful. It was for his heir and not for me. I was so scared. What if this baby turned out to be a daughter?

The door burst open, bringing with it a distasteful miasma of ale, sweat, and vomit. My worst apprehension came true. To my great distress, he was at his worst when he was drunk. Immediately, I felt icy dread race through my veins as I stood to receive his orders.

“Where's my supper? Have you been lazy again?”

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