Whispers, Again
Flicka von Hannover
Really,
it was just in case there were microphones
hidden in the bedroom.
Really.
Warm water poured over Flicka’s bare skin.
Her feet slid on the porcelain under her toes, but Raphael’s arm around her back held her up. The tile scraped her, but she didn’t care. His breath on her neck was warmer than the shower water as theymoved together, one slow pulse at a time.
Flicka whispered, “If there are microphones, surely they won’t be able to hear us in here.”
Raphael ran his lips up her neck to her ear and stepped forward, sliding deeper inside her. “I like the way you think.”
She fought to her keep her mind about her, to tell him what she needed to, but she just wanted to feel him.
His slippery body, smooth skinrippled with muscle, rubbed against hers. A trail of slick hair conditioner that smelled like rosemary created a smooth river down his round pec and over the cobblestones of his abs. Water beaded on his skin down to the tan line low on his hips from the swimming lessons in the hot Vegas sun. She held herself up with her paler arms over his shoulders, stroking the wet satin of his skin under her palms.“Raphael—”
He growled, “Say my name again.”
“Raphael, I need to tell you something.”
“Say it slowly,” he said, wrapping her thigh around his tight waist and grinding harder into her.
Her body was tightening, and her head floated as he moved, his hips curling under her with muscular, lithe strokes.
“Pierre got a judge in Monaco to void the divorce, to say I’m still married to him.”
“Didn’tknow Monaco was big enough to have a court.”
“Of course, it does, and Pierre can tell them what to do in cases like this.”
He lifted her other leg and held her ass in his hands, pressing her back against the rough tile as she sank down on him. “Can I kill him yet?”
“I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
“You divorced him. When I get us out of here, we’ll go to the States. That divorce is validin the States. Then I’ll marry you, and if he so much as sends you an email, I will cut his throat.” He pumped up into her, and she watched him through slitted eyes with her head thrown back. His jaw bulged where he was clenching his teeth, and his massive chest expanded with each labored breath. “I will never let him touch you again. You’re mine, now.Mine.Every bit of you is mine to taste,”he leaned forward and bit her neck, crushing her up against the tile, “to hold,” his fingers tightened on her ass, “and to take.”
He drove into her, bucking his hips and making her forget all about Pierre and his stupid court decision, until the hot, wet world turned white and she cried out.
As she panted, hanging onto his shoulder and breathing in the warm, soapy smell of Raphael, he whisperedin her ear, “I have a meeting tomorrow night. If I’m not home by two o’clock in the morning or if you hear anything downstairs at any time, fight your way out. Go through my mother’s bedroom, off the balcony. Don’t take Alina. I don’t think they’ll hurt her. Wulfram will come for her with lawyers, but get out, and run.”
Flicka nodded, though she knew she wouldn’t leave Alina.
