Page 48 of The Devil’s Feather

“What?” Rafael did not feign innocence well. Finally, something he was bad at.

“Saying the most outrageously sexual things like they’re nothing. You’re killing me here.”

He sobered. “I like to tease. If it bothers you, I will stop.”

“Two can play that game.” I pulled myself up and straddled his lap, winding my arms around his neck and pressing my breasts against his chest. “Now, what will you do?”

Belatedly, I recalled his story about throwing a woman off his lap, but Rafael held me tightly and kissed me until my spine rolled up instead. I grabbed fistfuls of his hair and leaned into the kiss. He cupped my ass with both hands. His heart thudded against mine. Our body heat mingled. Between my legs, his cock hardened and pressed insistently against me.

“Do you think this will save you?” he rumbled in my ear.

And slapped my ass again. I rocked against him; I hadn’t truly dry-humped since high school, but I’d make an exception for such an exceptional cock. He moaned encouragement into my mouth. Then I was stripping off my shirt and bra, and he his shirt and undershirt. Evidence of the beating I’d given him lingered in stripes, filling me with an odd pride and sense of possession.

I clawed at his back. Rafael gripped my ass tighter, only releasing his hold to land the occasional spine-jarring smack. He bore my hips down, grinding me against his iron-hard erection.

Through the thin fabric of my underwear and his joggers, the edge of his cock head dragged against my awakened and ravenous cunt. I undulated myself into a sharp, gasping orgasm. Jerking and shuddering against him, he held me firmly in place.

“Bite me,” he growled with another hard blow on my ass. “Do it now.”

I seized the slope of his shoulder in my teeth and bit down. He hissed and thrust against me with bruising force. I pushed my underwear to the side for better sensation.

He groaned, thrusting faster. I shifted position and bit down in a new spot, sinking my teeth in as hard as I could. Sweat slicked our torsos, easing the friction. Each jerk of his hips ratcheted me back up the slope. One big hand released my ass to cradle my head, and he pressed his face into my hair.

The orgasm worked its way up from deep inside his chest, bringing my second one with it. Fuck, I wanted him to yank the front of his joggers down and let his bare cock at least rest against my sopping pussy.

My whimpers came muffled through my bite hold. I wanted him inside me so badly. I wanted to slide down and choke on him. Rafael trembled and his tempo slowed. Each slide back and forth against my clit was measured, controlled, and deliberate. Just enough to ensure I hit the fever pitch at exactly the same time he did.

He shuddered and cried out, hips bucking beneath me. I broke against him, shattering apart as his cock gave a mighty pulse and spent against my clit. Our voices wove together, and I released his shoulder to sing out my climax.

“Fuck.” Rafael’s voice was so low I barely heard him. He swallowed hard.

Realizing I was still straddling his cock, I tried to move, but he held me firmly.

“Are you ok?”

“Surprisingly, yes.”

My bite marks were livid purple on his shoulder. “Do I still have to be punished more? I think I’m tapped out.”

Rafael smiled. “I will save it for the next time you act up.”

We languished together in the bath. No obscuring potions this time; those had been muscle and bruise liniments. I drowsed in Rafael’s arms, enjoying the skin-to-skin contact. He still hadn’t allowed me to see him fully, openly nude, but this was a big step in the right direction. His hand traveled in slow strokes over my hair.

I traced patterns on his chest. “Can I ask you a series of obnoxious questions about your sexuality?”

“Go on. Get it out of your system.” His voice sent rippling soundwaves through the water, but his tone was indulgent.

“How many sexual partners have you had?” I braced myself for the answer.

Come on now, Elaine. What the fuck? Why am I slut shaming? Not very sex positive feminist of me. He’s already said he’s disease free, has safe practices, and he’s choosing me, so why does it matter?

Rafael’s hand stilled. “Depends on what you classify as sex, but not as many as you are probably assuming. Most people piss me off too much before we ever get that far.” He exhaled slowly; obviously concerned about my reaction to what he was about to say. “I would say thirtyish if you cast a very broad net, and most of those when I first came to the US. Not all kink is sexual. Sometimes I need a beating to make the darkness recede.”

I understood that all too well. Pain was dopamine. “You’re right. I thought you were going to say triple digits for some reason. Which would be fine, but I don’t know why I assumed that.”

“Stereotypes.” He poked me in the sore butt.

I yelped. “Sorry, sorry! Longest relationship? Last relationship?”