32
Isa
"Tattoos can be covered up or removed, unfortunately. But a brand is forever,mi reina," he said. His skin burned in an angry red color as he turned toward his desk and swept everything on top onto the floor. "Come here," he ordered, raising a brow at me when I refused to move. "Now," he growled.
I shook my head, flinching back into the sofa as he approached. "Don't!" I yelled out the moment his hand wrapped around my wrist and he pulled me up to stand. The few steps to the desk felt like a lifetime, an eternity passing before he brought me to stand next to the same surface where he'd tattooed me instead of branding me.
Somehow it felt like we'd always been meant to end up right back here.
He tore the shirt off my head while I struggled, my bra following, and then he tore my pants and underwear down my legs, pulling them off my feet along with my boots. He lifted me onto the desk while I struggled against the harshness of his grip, depositing me on the edge. The cool wood stung the marks on my ass, drawing a pained gasp from my lips that I somehow knew would be nothing compared to the pain that was to come. "I will never forgive you for this."
"You will," he said with a condescending laugh. "You would forgive me for anything, Princesa. Because this is what it is to love a man like me." He pressed a hand to my chest, easing me onto my back on the desk. I glared up at him, waiting until he turned to go back for the branding iron in the fire. The moment his back was turned, I scrambled off the desk and for the other side of the office.
As futile as it would probably be, I couldn't just lie back and take it.
"Get over here so I can fuck you while I mark you as mine permanently," he warned, dropping his hands to his jeans and undoing them to pull himself free. He stroked his ungloved hand over his cock, the already hard flesh offering resistance to his hand. "Did I not warn you what would happen the next time you disobeyed me? You knew what was at stake, and you did it anyway. Now come and accept your penance."
I shook my head at him, wincing when he closed the distance between us with the speed of the devil, grasping me around the neck and maneuvering me back to the desk. He laid me down on top of it with more force, my back aching as it hit the surface with a sharp thump. He moved back to grab the last branding iron quickly, holding it in his gloved hand as he used his other one to spread my legs and insert himself between my thighs.
I glared up at him, wincing when he shoved inside me with one brutal thrust. I was still wet from his display in the barn, but my pussy clenched around him with the lack of preparation. He leaned forward over the edge of the desk to meet my eyes as he grabbed my arm and pulled it down next to my body. I squirmed beneath him as he brought the iron close to my skin. The heat was unbearable, even without it touching me. "Hold still," he warned.
"Don't," I begged with tears streaming down my face suddenly. He wouldn't back out a second time. He wouldn't show me mercy, because the devil didn't have any. "Rafe."
He moved inside me, gliding through tender tissue to pull back and press deep once more. When I was filled with him, he lined up the iron and pressed it to my skin. The skin sizzled as I screamed, my entire being narrowing down on the excruciating pain as I tried to get away, but Rafe only held me tighter.
Nothing else existed as I burned, my breaths coming in fast pants as my head went fuzzy and consciousness slipped away. "Shhh," Rafe soothed, drawing the brand away finally and tossing it into the fire. He shifted me higher up on the desk, laying his weight over mine and cupping my face in his hands as he moved between my legs.
Full awareness returned slowly, his face gentle as I blinked up at him. My arm started to numb as he stroked my face, laying his mouth against mine to coax me into an affectionate kiss. As if the mark on my skin took away the mark on his soul that I'd left by disobeying him. "It hurts," I whimpered, though I was grateful for the steady numbing as my nerve endings died.
He touched my fingers to the burned flesh on his arm, the red mess still hot to the touch as he moved his cock inside me. "Will you forget that you're mine now?" he asked, kissing me lightly as his eyes held mine. With slow and easy thrusts, he made love to me while he soothed the pain he'd caused, morphing it with pleasure as the initial agony faded.
"I never did," I protested with a whisper, wrapping my legs around his hips to pull him deeper. He grabbed my arm carefully, lifting it so I had no choice but to stare at the wordssearedinto my skin.
The angry red flesh looked like the devil himself.El Diabloowned me.
He always had.
"My wife does not disobey me, and men do not think to touch what is mine without my permission." He thrust into me, slipping a hand between our bodies to touch my clit as he dropped his lips to my breast and drew a nipple into his mouth. He nipped it sharply, drawing a moan from me as my orgasm built higher and higher. "Now anyone who looks at you will be reminded of what happens to men who touch what is mine," he growled, bringing his lips back to mine as his fingers worked my clit harder.
I came suddenly, his mouth swallowing my screams as he pushed deep and rode out his own climax inside me. I was too exhausted to move as he pulled out and gathered me in his arms to move us to the sofa. I fell asleep with his hands in my hair, his fingers running through the strands as he stared down at me like I mattered.
Like I was everything.
Islept the rest of the day after Rafe wrapped a bandage around my brand and put ointment on the marks on my ass from the riding crop. I slept through the night and late into the next morning, with him watching over me. By the time he forced me to get out of bed, it was already past noon. After a quick lunch with Regina, he took my hand and guided me to his office.
Nothing good ever happened in his office.
He sat me down in one of the chairs in front of the very same desk he'd branded me on. The same one he'd tattooed me on. Taking the one next to me, he wordlessly grabbed the folder off the surface and handed it to me.
The weight of his stare felt ominous. He'd been oddly quiet all morning, brooding over something, and yet still attentive to me physically and the fact that I needed his intimacy in the wake of all that he'd done to me the day before. I needed to know he loved me, because his actions weren't those of a man in love.
But of a man obsessed with something he owned.
I glanced down at the folder as I took it from his hands, pulling the cover open and staring down at the gruesome photo in front of me. A man sat in an office chair, his head tilted to the side and a hole in the side of his head where blood trickled out. I closed the folder immediately, looking up at Rafael in confusion.
"Why are you showing me this?" I asked, handing it back to him.
"That—" he paused, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees as he set the folder on the desk "—is the officer who filed your accident report after you nearly drowned."