Then he trails the backs of his fingers along my jawline as he holds me, and I’m gone. It’s almost mean, how sensual he is. I don’t have any choice but to melt into a puddle of affectionate goo. I’m pretty sure it’s physics.
My pounding heart seems to be lodged in my throat. My body feels like everything is in the wrong place, like the topography of my entire being has shifted and I’m going to need a new map after tonight. I can’t even think about that. He doesn’t let me. He bends his head and tugs my lower lip between his, nibbling, then sucking on it before claiming my mouth in a kiss that starts out soft and small, then slowly builds into a raging inferno. My face is on fire, my core full of feelings I can’t ever remember having. Rafe’s hand is covering my breast, his thumb moving back and forth over the beaded nipple until I feel every flick low in my stomach.
Intoxicated. That’s it. I feel completely, utterly intoxicated. I’m drunk off my ass on Rafe, and I don’t want to think about the hangover that’s going to follow.
The low rumble of his voice shoots straight to my core. I swear to God, I quiver like he just ran his tongue across my clit, just because he’s speaking. His tone holds something different, though. An element of command I can’t help responding to in a primal way. It’s dangerous, tha
t tone of his voice. I think he could tell me to do anything right now, and I would, like an unthinking slave to pleasure.
“Did you think of me while you touched your pussy, sweetheart?”
My mind makes a valiant attempt to replay that memory, to remind me how sick I felt in that moment, but my body and Rafe’s voice team up to shut it down. “Mm hmm,” I murmur, brushing my lips against his shoulder.
“Do you always think of me when you touch your pussy?”
That’s an even more daring question, one my brain tells me not to answer, but I nod my head, trancelike. “Yes.”
Rafe smiles like this pleases him, and that’s all the reassurance I need. Go away, brain. Nobody wants to hear your bullshit right now.
I’m still wrapped up in Rafe’s affectionate embrace, but now he cradles me in his arm, shifts positions, and lays me back on the bed. My heart begins to beat faster as he climbs on top of me. Attempting once more to bring me back around to reason, my brain screams for me to stop this, literally begs. But Rafe’s lips cover mine again, and they’re so damn convincing. The man really is temptation wrapped up in human form.
He grabs my hips and positions me, and it takes me a second longer than it should to realize he’s bumping my knees apart, he’s planting himself between my legs. The smooth tip of his cock brushes my entrance and it feels like I’ve swallowed my heart.
Wait, he forgot—
Oh, shit.
I’m so wet, his sizable cock slides inside me without much discomfort, but I feel every. Fucking. Inch.
I didn’t expect him to go in raw, and I hope he doesn’t make a habit of it with other women, since I don’t want any diseases. I don’t know if it’s the girth of his dick, or the fact that I’ve never had sex without a condom, but I’ve never felt this sensation before. He fills me up until I can’t breathe properly, then he pushes another couple of inches inside me.
“Oh, shit,” I murmur, reaching overhead for something to hold onto.
As soon as he’s seated fully inside me, he pulls back and slides in again. The friction of his cock sliding against my walls is almost more than I can take, and he’s just getting started.
I give up on reaching for the pillow and I grab onto him. My nails sink into his shoulders and I hold his body close, waiting for my body to adjust to this pleasurable invasion, but it doesn’t. He moves one arm under my ass and lifts me, tilting my pelvis as he slides into me again.
“Oh, my God,” I cry, a shudder of pleasure traveling down my spine. “Oh, Rafe. Oh, God.”
“It’s okay,” he says, pressing his lips to my forehead, then pulling back and thrusting again.
Holy fucking shit, no, it is not okay. I don’t know what he’s doing, but no one has ever done it before. He keeps my hips tilted as he pounds into me again and again, and each time his dick grinds against my walls in such a way that I think I might lose my mind. He’s been inside me maybe two minutes, my mind has melted to mush under the scorching heat of pleasure he’s filling me up with, and I don’t want it back. I never want this to end. I never want to come, I never want him to come, I want to lie here and experience being fucked by Rafe Morelli for the rest of my natural life.
I’m a mindless sack of moans, groans, and “oh, my Gods,” and then he shoves his perfect cock inside me and launches me into another atmosphere. One where I can’t breathe, and I think I might die, but that’s okay, because holy fuck, this feeling. And it does not stop. He’s still fucking me, he’s nowhere near done yet, he hasn’t even broken a sweat, and I’m panting and crying out shamelessly. I can’t help it. I am beyond composure, I am beyond everything. The planet I am on is a new one, an incredible secret place I never knew existed, and as he keeps pumping his cock into me, it keeps. Fucking. Happening.
“Oh, my, God, Rafe, I can’t,” I say on a gasp, mindless.
He clutches me more tightly against him. The way he fucks, it’s unlike anything I’ve ever encountered. It’s so hard and fast, it should hurt. It’s so aggressive, you’d think he’s waging war in a foreign land, but the pleasure. Oh, my God, the unending pleasure.
I think I’m going to cry. I don’t know why, exactly, my body just doesn’t know what to do with all this pleasure. I’ve never had an orgasm that won’t end, but it’s getting to be too much. It’s not a single sharp stab of pleasure, it’s not a shooting star in the sky—it’s a fucking comet.
I want to ask for a break, but at the same time, I never want him to stop. I don’t know what to think. Nothing makes sense. Nothing else exists right now, just this, just us, just this otherworldly pleasure that’s so good, it makes me want to cry.
It feels like there’s a furnace against my skin as I hold onto him and continue to ride the high of orgasm. I think he hears me sob in his ear, because Rafe’s rough voice finally rumbles in my ear. “Do you want it to stop?”
“I—I—I don’t know.”
Even as I say it, I know the answer is no. I know from the panic I feel at the thought he knows how to stop it, at the thought that he might. I never want this to end, so I give up and hold on for dear life. On one hand, I can’t breathe, and I need to be able to breathe. On the other hand, what if I never feel like this again in my life?