I groaned again, unable to fucking talk because I was legitimately drowning in the sensations of him moving so slowly into me, all the way in and out, over and over, touching every fucking nerve ending I had inside.
"Turn over," he ordered, those eyes pinning me to the bed.
I blinked up at him, the urge to fight when I was ordered strong when I was with him. He must have recognized that in my face because he brushed a hand down my cheek, slowing his strokes. "Just this once, do as you're told, Violence."Not helping, asshole.I was just about to gut punch him—no matter how good this felt, I deserved respect. Then he added a, "Please."
Fuck.
Narrowing my eyes on him, I used my elbows for leverage. My body screamed at me as I pulled myself slowly off his cock before I flipped over and lifted my ass into the air, giving him exactly what he wanted.
Rafe's groan was low, almost inaudible, and I was about to turn and see what he was doing when his hand landed firmly on the small of my back. The touch was heavy, possessive, and as it slid slowly across my curves and over my ass cheeks, I started to pant at the slow torture he was inflicting on me.
He rubbed slowly, one hand on each cheek, and I jumped when he slapped me with a cupped palm. Right side and then left. Small, spluttered groans and gasps fell from my lips as I rocked back against him, desperately searching for some relief from the tension coiling inside of me.
"Loves the pain," he murmured before he rubbed a gentle massage on the tender spots.
"Rafe, you're torturing me," I told him, begging for more.
His fingers slipped lower to find I was literally dripping down my legs and so turned on by what he was doing that the second he touched me, I cried out, rocking harder.
"Fucking hell, you're killing me Violet," he grumbled, removing his hand. This time when I backed up, he didn't resist, his cock stretching my pussy to the point where pain and pleasure merged again.
"Your cunt could start wars, Cinderella," he muttered. "And I'm too fucking gone to resist it."
I didn't know what to make of that, but luckily there was no time to answer because I was too busy screaming his name as he fucked me hard. There was so much force in his strokes that I found myself sliding across the bed until eventually I was holding onto his ornate, hand-carved wooden headboard, holding myself up while Rafe slammed into me from behind, both his hands on my tits as he held me steady.
Everything was building and spinning out of control again, and as he released my right nipple and slid that hand down to stroke across my clit, I came harder than I'd ever come before. My knuckles ached, white across the tops as I held on for dear life, and then the world flashed in black and white as my brain frizzled to a halt.
Rafe didn't stop, though, his cock swelling as he got closer, stretching me further and igniting nerve endings I didn't even know I had. Just as I thought I was about to come again, he pulled out of me, flipping me over so I was face to cock with him.
Despite my confusion, I didn't hesitate, wanting to taste him. Sliding the head into my mouth, I groaned at the taste of both of us combined. Sucking him even deeper, I lifted my hand to assist, and when Rafe fisted his hands into my hair, his breathing heavy as he started to make small sounds, I felt a heady sense of accomplishment.
He jerked in my mouth seconds later, and I swallowed it all, relishing this moment with him, until eventually both of us collapsed on the bed, completely wrecked.
For many long moments we just lay there, sweaty, breathing heavy, hearts trying to hammer out of our chests. Eventually though, the events of the day and everything else caught up to me as aches and pains made themselves known.
"I killed someone today," I said, no inflection in my voice; I wasn't sure how I felt about it. "I've gotten close before. Set people up to be killed, even. But never actually struck the fatal blow."
Rafe was silent. So silent I wondered if he was just going to roll off the bed and pretend that I was nothing other than a fuck he’d found in the local bar.
"Those religious assholes that locked you in the closet," he said, voice husky. "You set them up?"
I nodded, wincing at the pain in my neck. "Yeah. They were murdered in what looked like a robbery gone wrong. I don't know who did the actual killing, but my money is on Uriel. It was professional, no evidence left behind, and eventually the case was closed."
"How did you even meet Uriel?" Rafe snapped, much quicker with that question.
I shrugged. "You know, I can't really remember. He just showed up one day and started teaching me to fight."
"And no one ever found out?"
"Nope. None of my foster families cared where I was, as long as I wasn't bothering them. They made it all too easy for me to be groomed into the person Uriel needed me to be."
Rafe was unusually tense at my side—even for the prickly prince. "You knew what he wanted you for?"
Ah, that made sense. "No. I thought he wanted a young fuck toy and that had been the entire point of building our bond. It wasn't until we ended up with the extremists that I understood the true depth of what he was doing."
I quickly detailed my mother's involvement with it all and the reason I was so important to both sides.
The silence after this was so heavy, and the longer it went on, the more I was kicking myself for putting up with his bullshit. Like, I mean, why was I sticking around here with someone who clearly couldn't stand me? Whatever had happened in the past few weeks, Rafe was simply not the same with me... We were almost back to our first meetings, and it hurt so much that all the cuts and bruises couldn't compare.
