My breath hitched as Raffaele’s fingers slid beneath the waistband of my shorts. He looked at me, a silent question in his eyes. My heart pounded, every nerve in my body alive with a mixture of fear and anticipation. I nodded, unable to form words, and that was all the permission he needed.
He rolled me over onto my back and tugged my shorts down slowly. I shivered as his fingers brushed along my skin. The air between us buzzed with tension, thick and electric, as he made quick work of removing the rest of my clothing. I was bare beneath him, utterly exposed, and yet I didn’t feel vulnerable. The way he looked at me with that fiery desire in his dark eyes filled me with unadulterated lust. It made me feel like I was the only thing that mattered.
“You’re so damn beautiful,” he murmured. The words sent a flush of heat across my skin, and my cheeks burned as he moved down the bed.
He started with a soft kiss pressed to the inside of my knee. It was such a simple thing, yet it sent a ripple of pleasure through me. His lips lingered there, warm and firm, before trailinghigher. Each kiss was deliberate, his pace agonizingly slow as he moved up the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. My body tensed in anticipation as he worked his way closer.
“Raffaele,” I whispered, his name a plea I couldn’t contain.
“Patience,” he murmured before brushing his lips against the curve of my hip. “Let me take my time with you.”
He gripped my thighs, his fingers firm but not demanding as he spread me wider. The heat of his breath against me made my hips shift involuntarily, and a soft gasp escaped my lips. He chuckled, the sound low and sinful, before pressing another kiss to the sensitive skin at the apex of my thigh.
The first touch of his tongue was light, barely there, nothing more than a teasing flick that drew a moan from me. He was testing me, taking his time to explore. My hands gripped the sheets beneath me, my back arching as he pressed his mouth against me more firmly.
“Gods, you taste perfect,” he murmured against my skin. “Addicting.”
I couldn’t respond. Words failed me as his tongue moved in slow, deliberate strokes over my clit, each one sending a jolt of pleasure through my body. He was meticulous, his pace maddening as he alternated between soft, teasing flicks and firm, languid strokes that made my toes curl.
“Raffaele,” I gasped, my hips lifting off the mattress as the pressure built inside me.
He growled softly, his hands tightening on my thighs to hold me still. “I want to feel you come apart on my tongue, Vivian,” he said, his voice rough with need.
The words sent a shiver through me, heat pooling low in my belly as his tongue delved lower and dipped inside me. He moved with purpose now, his mouth relentless as he focused on the spot that made me cry out. His tongue circled and stroked with precision, the pleasure mounting with every flick and swirl.
The bond pulsed, his emotions feeding into mine—desire, hunger, satisfaction. They were overwhelming, a mirror of my own, and it only heightened the intensity of every sensation. I was trembling beneath him, my body taut as he brought me closer and closer to the edge.
He teased my entrance with a finger, drawing slow circles that matched the rhythm of his tongue. Pressure built inside me until I thought I might shatter.
“Raffaele, please,” I begged as the pleasure coiled tighter. I was on the brink, my body trembling with the need for release.
He didn’t let up, his movements precise and unrelenting. His fingers pressed inside me, his tongue stroking me with a rhythm that pushed me higher and higher.
My body arched off the bed, a cry ripping from my lips as pleasure crashed over me in relentless waves. I shook, my vision blurring as the orgasm tore through me, leaving me breathless and utterly undone.
Raffaele kept going, his tongue moving in soft, languid strokes to draw out every last tremor. He held me steady as I shuddered beneath him, his thumbs tracing circles on my skin as I slowly came back to myself.
When he finally raised his head, his dark eyes blazed with wanton need. He pressed a kiss to the inside of my thigh, then another to my hip.
“You’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion as he placed another tender kiss on my skin. “And you’remine.”
I didn’t know what to say. My chest ached, but I didn’t dare examine the feeling. I couldn’t look at him without feeling exposed. Without feeling as though he’d seen more of me than just my body.
And as I lay there, breathless and trembling, one thought lingered at the edges of my mind.What have I done?
I woke up with a start,disoriented as I tried to piece together where I was and why my chest felt so damn heavy. And then it hit me.
The kiss.
Memories from the night before came crashing down like a tidal wave. The sensation of Raffaele’s lips on mine, his hands holding me, the intensity of emotions that weren’t entirely my own. I groaned, throwing an arm over my face to shield myself from the daylight and the guilt.
Why do you feel guilty, Vivian?You’re a prisoner. This is survival. You’re taking your power back.
It didn’t feel like power, though. Not when I could still feel the phantom heat of his touch on my skin. I sat up, raking a hand through my tangled hair as I forced myself to think logically.How quickly does the siren’s spell kick in? Will he notice it today? Tonight? Will he even feel it?
Shaking my head, I swung my legs over the side of the bed. Raffaele was already gone, off doing the gods only knew what. That was a relief. His absence meant I could focus. I needed to distract myself, to funnel this chaotic, maddening energy into something productive. Something Icouldcontrol.
I dressed quickly, pulling on jeans and a loose shirt before padding barefoot down the hall. My old bedroom felt like a time capsule—untouched since I’d moved into Raffaele’s room. It had only been a couple of days, but time had slowed and stretched in my new reality. I closed the door behind me and took a deep breath.
