Chapter Text
The idea of being submissive during sex has always turned me on. I remember reading a fanfic when I was a teenager in which the sex scene made me so wet, it felt like it was happening to me. I felt little shock waves in the area below my navel and almost painful inner pulls in my core... sensations that made me squirm in my seat and squeeze my thighs together to ease the desperation my body felt for friction.
In the story, the couple was seeking shelter from a strong storm in a barn. They weren’t a real couple yet. I mean, the girl was madly in love with the guy since she was a kid. And while she was a happy, flowers and rainbows type of person, he was more like the cold, quiet type. Somewhat like Zayne, but even colder and more distant, I guess. After they got away from the rain, he noticed the girl had a high fever and was losing consciousness now and then. She was this fragile, delicate little thing he had to protect and care for. So, what did he do? He stripped her of her wet clothes! Totally innocent, of course—just needed to, ahem, warm up together while their clothes dried.
The thing is, while he was trying to keep her warm with his body heat, he started touching her like he couldn’t keep himself from doing that. And even sick, her body responded well to his ministrations... one thing led to another... and he ended up making sweet love to her.
It was clearly a non-con situation, even if the girl loved him—like a lot— and she would gladly have said yes, had he asked her. Still, it was beautifully written, and I found it pretty sweet.
That was when I realized I have weird fetishes. Being honest with myself, I thought it was hot as hell. And it made me want to go through something like that one day. Have sex while weak and all warm from a strong fever... let my man do whatever he wants with me so he can have all the pleasure he wants. Or maybe just a little too drunk… like that one night, Rafayel and I forgot all about the line between employer and bodyguard.
I wanted him to abuse me and have his way so bad on that day...
I could see he struggled hard in the beginning, restraining himself until he heard the clear consent coming from my lips. That's the kind of man he is: respectful, caring, and safe. All the time doing his best not to hurt me, making sure I was feeling good. And for the Gods, he was an amazing lover! It was indeed something only The Sea God could grant. His lips on my skin were like lava... he made me burn for him.
And I burned... all night long.
Seriously, his stamina is out of this world. I never would’ve guessed… and oh boy, he was starving—no doubt about that. How or why, I have no clue. Rafayel is gorgeous, fun, smart, and mysterious. Plenty of women have tried to get his attention, so why was he still single… and that hungry?
We only crossed the line that one night, and we promised to never bring it up so things wouldn’t get weird between us.
They got weird, though.
Three whole months of hidden awkwardness—at least on my end. I felt it. It was really hard to separate the feelings that had fully blossomed during that night from our normal working relationship. What used to be little sprouts of emotion had suddenly burst into full bloom.
Rafayel, on the other hand, was an enigma. He never showed his feelings. He kept treating me with the same playful, dramatic flair as always—the same jokes, the same teasing. No hints, no cracks. But sometimes, I’d catch him hesitating, his lips parting as if he were about to say something… then closing again, like the words got lost mid-thought. He’d glance away, a faint blush coloring his cheeks, and brush it off with a joke or a casual ‘It’s nothing.’
Still, I could feel it—something restless lingering just beneath the surface.
Eventually, the elephant in the room vanished, and we slipped back into our usual routines and interactions. That was eight painfully long months ago—yet I still craved him. He was like an intoxicating drug, and I’d gotten addicted from the very first taste. I started noticing how often I sighed when he was near, like the air was escaping my lungs without permission.
But I kept pretending.
Pretending nothing had happened between us.
Pretending I hadn’t heard his breathless moans as he thrusted deep and hard inside me...
Fuck, I miss him.
Not long ago, I caught him during the ebb and flow. That was when I discovered he was a Lemurian—and how vulnerable he became on that particular day. His body was sensitive, his energy fluctuating, and he seemed really uncomfortable with the temperature. And yet… even then, he craved intimacy.
When he grabbed my wrist and slid my hand against his chest and abs, his intentions were as clear as day. I almost gave in—God knows I wanted to—especially when I tried to escape for the sake of my own sanity, and he pulled me into his lap.
Even in that weakened form, his grip was iron-strong.
And for a moment, I truly thought he was going to take me right there… on the couch in his living room.
I remember losing my breath as my body reacted—already preparing itself for him, as if it remembered every detail of our one night together. My heart pounded so fast it made me dizzy.
He pulled me tight against his chest, one dominant hand threading through my hair and tugging it down, exposing my neck. His lips were on me in an instant—kissing, nibbling, biting—desperate and hungry. Hungry for me.
I was spiraling. My eyes lost focus, my thoughts short-circuited into a blue screen of death. In that moment, I was completely his.
And then… he stopped.
“I-I’m sorry!” he said, flustered, as he carefully released me from his grip. His head dipped, gaze turning away before he looked back, checking to see if I was okay. “I didn’t mean to…”
It stung when he pulled away, the cocoon of heady warmth his arms had created replaced by the chill of the early evening air. I felt rejected. Of course he didn’t want me. It had just been a moment of weakness—nothing more. I was left aching, still burning for his touch, craving him to take me like he seemed ready to, just seconds before.
But Rafayel was a gentleman.
He’d never give in to my hidden, twisted desires.
And he’d never return my feelings... That day, hot tears streamed down my face as I made my way home, a sharp pang burning in my chest. I’d fallen for him—hard—and I knew it. I also knew I was 100% screwed.
“Hey, Earth to Miss Bodyguard!” Rafayel waved a hand in front of my face to get my attention. I spaced out again. “Are you there?”
“Aa, sorry! Sorry, Rafayel! What were you saying?”
He gave me a sweet smile, his eyes shining with mischievous joy.
“Jeez, you’ve been spacing out a lot!” He brought a fist close to his chest, blowing lightly on his hand before holding it out to me. "Here, I have a new friend."
I smiled at the sight of the little blue fish he had conjured just for me. Ever since he discovered how fascinated I was by that tiny display of his abilities, he'd been finding excuses to summon it again—just to see me smile. Especially when he sensed even the faintest trace of sadness or stress lingering in me. That was who he was to me—someone who always tried to make me feel safe, good… happy.
I lifted a finger toward the little fish, as if to pet it, watching with delight as it swam around me in playful, affectionate circles. A soft giggle escaped my lips—it was just too adorable.
And then, in the blink of an eye, it vanished.
“So, what were you saying again?”
"I was saying you weren’t playing by the rules. You were supposed to be on my side and help me hide from Thomas." He said in an exaggeratedly dramatic tone, throwing a hand over his face as if overcome with despair. With a heavy sigh, he shook his head, his fingers briefly dragging down his cheek before he peeked at me between them. "At least you could tell him you didn’t find me. I’m not going to the event anyway."
“But it’s your first collab fragrance with a world-famous brand, Rafayel.”
“And?” He crossed his arms and huffed indignantly. “Why are you taking his side and running his errands?” Hugging a cushion, he shook his head, clicking his tongue at me.
“I thought having a branded perfume for your paintings would be something you liked. Don’t you at least find it interesting?”
“Yeah, yeah. It is interesting, and the perfumer is skilled too.” He raised a finger to make his point. “Annd, that’s why my presence won’t make a difference to the exhibition.”
"I don’t want to hear your excuses." I rose to my feet and crossed the room to grab a fresh, elegant, long-sleeved shirt that would match his slacks. The one he had on was wrinkled and stained with a few drops of purple paint.
Rafayel blinked at the shirt in my hand… then sighed in defeat.
“Fiiine.” He began unbuttoning his shirt, baring his chest to my eyes and catching the way they widened in surprise. “Why aren’t you looking away?!”
Feeling my face heat, I spun toward the wall behind me, my mouth suddenly dry. “Sorry, I—”
“You’re blushing so hard, Miss Bodyguard!” he teased, laughing at my flustered state. “Got fishies in your tummy?”
“Shut up,” I mumbled, pouting.
He chuckled at my sulking, then casually picked up his red wine glass from the coffee table and took a slow sip.
“You can look now.”
I sighed and did as I was told. Placing my hands on my hips, I pointed to the tie resting on the sofa, hoping he’d take the hint. His face twisted into a look of pure disgust as if the tie had personally offended him.
I stood my ground, tapping my foot against the floor. Seeing that I wouldn’t back down, he let out a dramatic sigh—his defeat clearly fake.
"Fiiine!" He tossed me the tie. "Here. You can repay me by helping me with this."
"Don’t you have hands?"
"I do, but I wanna see you blush some more." He leaned back on the sofa, arms stretched over the cushions, a smug expression on his face and a gleam of mischief dancing in his eyes.
I felt the rush of blood to my cheeks at the suggestive look he gave me. He was enjoying this way too much. I shot him a glare sharp enough to cut—but it only made his grin widen.
Letting out an exasperated sigh, I leaned down to fix his tie, using the moment to scold him for his childish behavior toward Thomas—who, honestly, did everything for him. I braced myself for one of his usual snarky comebacks, but he stayed silent.
“Hey, are you even listening to me?”
That’s when I noticed it.
His full attention wasn’t on my words, but on my wrist. His gaze was locked, unmoving, like a predator watching its prey.
“Rafayel?”
I waved at him, but he suddenly grabbed my arm, a strange expression flashing across his face—like he was holding something back. A thrill crept up my spine at the intensity in his gaze.
“Your hand,” he pulled me toward him so suddenly that I tumbled into his arms with a small shriek. I tried to move away, but his fingers tightened around my wrist, holding me in place.
“Hold still,” he said, his voice low and husky, like I hadn’t heard it since that night, so many months ago. “Let me smell this.” He brought my wrist to his nose, breathing in deeply. “It smells good... familiar...”
“W-what?” I gasped when his other hand pulled me even closer. “This is the perfume from the exhibition. I-I only wanted to try it out.”
“You...” His breathing grew heavier as he impulsively bit my hand before returning to nuzzle my wrist. His eyes were starting to glaze over, like he was drunk. “You sprayed the perfume on yourself?”
The marine and fermented plant notes of the scent thickened in the air between us. I could feel my body temperature rising at his closeness. I nodded, trying to pull my wrist free.
“Let go, Rafayel. We’re going to be late.”
"No."
I blinked, astonished at his denial. That was new.
He started pulling his collar open while savoring the scent on my wrists. There was a faint blush spread across his face and ears that matched the pink color of his eyes. I tried to pull away again, but his grip was unrelenting.
“Raf..ugh!” I struggled in vain. “Are you okay?”
“What is this weird perfume?” He whispered in a raspy, urgent tone. “Who gave it to you? You’re with them to trap me again, aren’t you?”
“What?! No! No one gave it to me, and I wouldn’t let anyone trap you.” I raised my free hand to touch his face as if to assure him of my words. He leaned into my hand, surrendering to my touch. “But you don’t look well. You look drunk... maybe you should go to the hosp-”
“I'm not drunk,” he frowned, his gaze now fixed on the side of my neck where I’d also spritzed the perfume. “And I’m not going anywhere.” The lazy sunset in his eyes seemed to burn me from the inside out.
Oh God...
My heart was pounding so hard I could barely make out his words. He was saying something about not doing anything bad to me, telling me not to worry, and that he'd make me feel good. But then, before I could even process his words, I gasped—his body was suddenly on top of mine, pinning me to the sofa with firm, unyielding strength. His warm, ragged breath brushed against my ear, sending a shiver straight down my spine and making me squirm beneath him.
Rafayel’s lips claimed mine with a hunger that bordered on desperation, making my breath hitch and my mind go blank. His lips carried the rich, velvety depth of fine wine, laced with the smoldering heat of fire, leaving a taste both intoxicating and untamed. There was no hesitation, no patience—just raw, unfiltered need. His fingers tangled in my hair as he pressed harder into me, like the very air between us was too much to bear. His kiss was deep, searing, a promise—and a demand—all at once.
I melted against him, my breath and heart stolen, my body igniting under his touch. He tasted like heat and urgency,
like something I’d been secretly craving since the moment my feelings for him bloomed. When he finally pulled back, just enough to breathe, his forehead pressed against mine.
"What are you doing to me?” He asked, his voice low and ragged
God, if only I knew. I was burning, too—burning from the inside out. And if he kept touching me like that, I wasn’t sure I’d survive it... or even want to.
I lost myself in the depths of those mesmerizing eyes, as if they were an endless ocean, pulling me in with a force I couldn’t resist. I was certain I was gonna drown, caught in a current of longing I had no desire to escape. Still, we couldn’t cross that line again… could we? I didn’t want things to get complicated between us—not again.
I also needed to protect my poor heart... but watching him so utterly lost in that perfume-drugged haze was intoxicating and dangerously addictive. I was struggling.
With a sudden burst of energy, I somehow managed to push him away and dash to the bathroom, leaving him stunned on the couch.
I need to wash this perfume out of my skin before we do something we’ll both regret.
“Where are you going?” I heard Rafayel’s footsteps getting closer. A surge of adrenaline flooded my bloodstream, sending a jolt of panic through me at the mere thought of him coming after me.
Clumsily, I reached for the faucet, but before I could touch the water to wash my wrists, Rafayel's arm snaked around me from behind. His other hand pressed against the mirror, and in its reflection, I saw him—lost in a dazed, lust-drunk haze.
"Gotcha," he purred, nibbling the soft skin under my ear, drawing a surprised gasp from me.
"R-Rafayel, what are you doing?!" I tried to pry his arm from my waist, but his grip was unyielding—strong, possessive, leaving me no room to escape. "Let me go," I demanded, but my voice lacked conviction.
"No." His voice was firm, leaving no room for argument. The weight of his command sent a shiver down my spine, my stomach knotting with anticipation—and something darker, unnamed, curling low in my belly. He ground against me, the arm around my waist tightening as his need surged. A dark, almost cruel smirk played on his lips when my eyes snapped to his in the mirror, wide with shock. He saw the exact moment I realized how hard he was—and he reveled in it.
The hand on my waist slid up to my throat, holding me firmly as he leaned forward to shut off the faucet.
My breath caught when his fingers slipped beneath my shirt, kneading my breast over the lacy fabric of my bra. His other hand teased slow, feather-light circles along my thigh, inching toward the hem of my skirt—each movement deliberate, savoring the tension coiled between us. A soft moan escaped my lips, and I felt his smile curve against my neck.
"Oh? You’re enjoying this, aren’t you, Miss Bodyguard?" His low chuckle rumbled through his chest and into my back, vibrating through me and drowning what little clarity I had left.
Of course, part of me was enjoying his touch. How could I not? But there was no way I’d admit that out loud. Besides, I was still convinced he’d stop before things got too serious—just like he did that day during the ebb and flow.
The only difference was... today, he was a little—no, a lot—more intense. That’s all.
His right hand roamed along the length of my thigh, hovering at the edge of my skirt, threatening to slip beneath it. My breath quickened in anticipation. He kept grinding against me, his face buried in the crook of my neck as he inhaled the mix of my perfume and natural scent, his lips brushing my skin with wet, languid kisses.
Thinking was becoming a battle—one I was rapidly losing—as a deep, primal urgency began to stir within me, demanding release.
He was going to be the death of me.
The hand exploring my breast pinched my nipple, ripping a gasp from my throat. He lingered there for a moment, touch slow and deliberate, before resuming those maddening circles that sent waves of pleasure pulsing through me.
Biting my lip to muffle a moan, I reached for his forearm, weakly trying to push him away. “Stop,” I whimpered, squirming beneath his touch, torn between reason and the fire burning inside me. “We can’t—”
“We can,” he growled, grinding shamelessly against me. His other hand pressed firmly over my skirt right at the aching heat between my thighs, and he yanked me back, flush against his hard length. A low grunt escaped him, raw and hungry.
“N-no!” I hissed at the touch, my heart pounding like a war drum inside my chest.
But Rafayel didn’t stop. He kept going—relentless, focused—while my body began to betray me, melting into his embrace. My eyelids, heavy with heat and desire, fluttered open just enough for me to steal a glance at our reflection in the mirror.
And there he was—his gaze locked on mine. That hypnotic swirl of rose and blue shimmered with a haze of arousal, his cheeks flushed a deep pink, his lips slightly parted, hungry.
I clenched around nothing, hips twitching, as his long, elegant fingers played their symphony over the fabric of my skirt… right where my soaked folds begged for more.
His misty eyes exuded the strength of his desire, and I started to think that maybe he wouldn't stop this time. A thrill ran through my stomach at that thought, while my fading, rational side warned me I’d have a hard time dealing with this later if things continued to escalate. Breathlessly, I pleaded, though by now, I wasn’t sure for what.
Rafayel’s breathing was loud and ragged, his restraint clearly taking a toll as his skilled fingers slid beneath my skirt and slipped under the thin fabric of my lingerie. I trembled, knees weakening as he began to explore the soft folds between my thighs, slow and deliberate. My head tilted back, eyes fluttering shut in surrender to the rising pleasure. My neck arched, lips parting in a silent gasp as each teasing touch made my muscles tighten with anticipation.
A deep hum of approval vibrated in his chest when he felt how wet I already was.
“Look how ready you are for me,” he purred, voice thick with satisfaction.
I felt my cheeks burn, not just with embarrassment, but with something deeper. Something raw. Under Rafayel’s touch, I was starting to feel exposed. It was as if he were peeling away every layer of my defenses, leaving me bare in more ways than one. His grip was firm, unrelenting — not painful, but possessive. Dominant. And somewhere in the haze of my mind, I realized… There wasn't much I could do to stop this.
Worse yet, I wasn’t sure I wanted to.
“S-Stop… mnh! Please, Rafayel—” I was panting, struggling beneath his ministrations, tugging weakly at his arms in a desperate attempt to make him stop. “We can’t...”
“I said no,” he murmured, and his fingers, that until now were teasing in slow, maddening circles over my aching clit, suddenly quickened. Lewd, wet sounds escaped between us, humiliatingly loud in the silent bathroom.
“Don’t fight this,” he whispered, almost tender. “I’m not gonna hurt you, princess.” His voice was a lullaby laced with sin.
“B-but—”
“Shh. No buts…”
Then his teeth sank into the sensitive junction between my neck and shoulder, and I squealed, helpless as my body betrayed me once more.
“N-no! We can’t do… mnh!… this again!” I threw my head back, whimpering as waves of pleasure crashed through me. His fingers were relentless, coaxing my body toward release with a skill that made resistance nearly impossible. If he kept going like that, I was going to come hard, right in his hand.
Rafayel seemed completely unaware of how impossible he was making it for me to stop him. Or maybe he knew exactly what he was doing. Either way, he was giving me everything I secretly wanted… and everything I was too scared to ask for.
“You know,” he husked in my ear. “Your lips are saying no, but—" My whimpers and moans were getting louder the more he stimulated me. "— your body is screaming yes.” He was shifting behind me and my brain was so fucked up that it didn’t register when Rafayel opened his pants and released his pulsing member until I felt his hand pushing my panties down just enough so he could slide teasingly between my thighs. “The beautiful sounds you’re making... the cute pleas and attempts to escape—he whispered in my ear, his tone dark with lust— It only spurs me on.”
Those words, along with his hot breath, disconnected me from reality. Nothing else existed, just Rafayel and the fierce hold he had over my body. “So, how could I stop now, hm?”
The male luscious moan that reached my ears and the feeling of his warm and moist dick provoking me triggered something in me as I realized he was going to fuck me right there in his bathroom. The mix of adrenaline and desire made my insides squirm painfully in anticipation at the sensation of his thick length sliding back and forth along my wet slit, teasing my throbbing clit.
"Sorry, babe," he kissed my cheek before gently guiding my hands to the mirror in front of us. I gave him a confused look, not noticing when he reached for something behind me. "You're gonna need something to hold on to."
I was about to say I didn't understand when he tilted my hips slightly backward for a better angle and lifted my skirt before he pushed himself inside without a warning, making me wail in response. I felt a strong, excited pull in my stomach as the mix of pain and pleasure shot through my body. It’s been eight long months since I last had sex... I was so tight it was hard to endure the stretch from the thick member that had just buried itself to the hilt in my core.
“Fuck,” he hissed, his forehead pressing against my back—right at the nape of my neck—while his hands grasped my hips tightly. “You’re so tight!”
“R-Rafay..hgh!”
Tears prickled my eyes at the intense feeling of him stretching me.
“Oh, babe, I know it’s been a while, and it hurts,” he groaned as he started moving slowly as if to give me at least a little time to get used to him. “Bear with me and hold on. It will get better soon enough.”
“It’s... It’s too much.” Even though I was loving it, that wasn’t a lie.
I’m gonna be so sore tomorrow.
“You feel so good! So tight,” he tenderly kissed my shoulder. "I just can't bring myself to stop."
His movements gradually shifted into a steady, more intense rhythm—deliberate, powerful, and unwavering. I was drowning in the sea of sensations that was Rafayel, his firm grip on my hips the only thing keeping me anchored. It wasn’t long until I gave up on holding back my moans and completely surrendered to the sensation of him thrusting into me.
“That’s it,” he cooed. “Just take me.”
One of his hands glided down, tracing a heated path to my clit, and began to caress it in slow, maddening strokes. While his fingers moved in a slow, controlled rhythm, his thrusts quickened their pace. My brain felt like it was melting, and the only thing I could register—besides the overwhelming tension tightening in my lower belly—were Rafayel’s delicious grunts and huffs.
He was sliding deep into me, adding bits of pain mixed with waves of pleasure. Seeing how I was coming undone under his touches, he increased the pressure on my clit. My breath caught as I climbed over the edge, stilling for a couple of seconds before coming crashing down hard with a loud cry.
“You look so beautiful like this,” Rafayel slowed his thrusts while my walls pulsed around him as if trying to milk him. “I told ya I’d make you feel good.”
I was a trembling mess.
With deliberate care, he brushed away the strands of hair clinging to my sweat-kissed skin, his fingertips lingering just long enough to make me shiver. Our gazes locked, and I felt utterly exposed—flushed, breathless, my eyes flickering with uncertainty, like prey caught beneath the unyielding stare of a predator. But he wasn’t just looking at me… he was unraveling me without a single word.
And he looked breathtaking in that moment.
And I wanted him to be mine, said the pang in my heart.
Picking up his pace again, Rafayel’s soft features contorted with each sharp thrust, his brows furrowing in concentration, lips parted slightly, revealing half-clenched teeth. The tension in his face grew, a mix of pleasure and determination, as his breath quickened. The muscles in his neck tensed, drawing my gaze to the sheen of sweat that gathered there. I lost all sense of time as I watched, captivated, by every fleeting expression that graced his stunning face. His soft, purple locks swayed with each movement, at times veiling those eyes that had once seemed to capture the delicate meeting of twilight’s pink with the blue of the sea. Now, those eyes had transformed, their depth hollow and dark, as though starved of something they could never name.
He pushed me forward—just a little—bending me over the sink. The new angle made me yelp in surprise and pain as he managed to thrust deeper and harder inside me. My pussy clenched tighter around him in response and I whimpered.
“Try to relax, cutie.” He kept both hands on my hips, using his grasp as leverage to help him go as fast and as hard as he could. I reached one hand out to grab his forearm, whimpering when his thrusts became erratic. “I... don’ wanna... hn!...hurt you,” he heaved.
I cried out, squeezing my eyes shut, my voice breaking with the intensity of it. Having Rafayel so deep inside me was so overwhelming that my legs began to shake involuntarily, threatening to give way at any moment.
“I-I...can’t.. stop,” his lips were on the back of my shoulder, and his teeth grazed my skin with the promise of a bite. And then, after a few hard thrusts, he came inside me with a loud grunt and sweet sounds of ecstasy. His lips showered my shoulder with butterfly kisses while still riding his orgasm.
We stayed like that for a while, catching our breaths. I felt his lips curling into a grin. “You’re shaking so hard,” he whispered.
I snorted as if asking whose fault it was, a shy smirk gracing my lips.
He straightened up, adjusting his pants, while I felt the warmth he planted inside me trickling down my legs. I half-expected him to help me pull up the panties that had somehow disappeared on the floor, but instead, he picked them up and slipped them into his pants pocket.
"I'll keep them," he said, winking at me, his voice low and teasing. He grabbed a towel, his hands steady as he gently helped me clean up the traces of him.
"Rafayel!!" I gasped, mortified, my face burning with embarrassment at the thought of my panties—still damp with my own arousal—now hidden away in his pocket.
He lifted me effortlessly, his strong arms wrapping around my body as he carried me toward the kitchen. A wave of gratitude washed over me—I no longer trusted my legs in that moment. Gently, he set me down on the kitchen counter, then, without missing a beat, he walked over to the fridge to grab me a glass of water.
"Here, you're gonna need this."
I thanked him, feeling a little self-conscious in the heavy silence of his apartment. My skin still burned from his touch, a deep part of me utterly content in his presence. Yet, my mind was already racing with questions about the consequences of what we had just done.
His phone started ringing like mad on the coffee table.
"Aren't you going to get that?"
"P-leease, that's probably Thomas nagging me so I won't be late for the event."
He picked up the phone and turned it off without a second thought. He poured a glass of wine and handed it to me as soon as I finished my water.
"Rafayel?"
"Hmm?" He stepped closer, positioning himself between my legs.
"My panties?" I asked, half confused, half breathless.
He smirked, his eyes gleaming with mischief.
"You won’t need them.” His hands trailed lightly over my thighs, barely touching, just enough to send a shiver through me.
Seeing the puzzled look on my face, he clicked his tongue and shook his head, mockingly disappointed.
"You didn’t actually think we were finished here, did you?" he whispered, nuzzling his face into the valley between my breasts. He took a slow, deliberate breath, as if memorizing my scent, a blend of perfume and the aftermath of us.
His fingertips curled, his nails lightly grazing the skin of my thighs while I searched for the right words.
“Oh, cutie…” His mouth found my nipple through the thin fabric of my shirt, nibbling just enough to make me arch into him. A rush of heat bloomed low in my belly. “You did, didn’t you?”
My face flushed hot, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe.
"Now, drink the wine," he murmured, his fingers pressing into my thigh with a firm, deliberate grip. "You were too tense before." His touch traced slow circles against my skin, sending shivers up my spine. He leaned in, his breath warm against my ear. "I need you to relax… so you can feel everything I’m about to do to you."
He was going to burn me alive...
I took a generous sip, letting the wine roll over my tongue. The rich, velvety texture slid down smoothly, leaving a warm, lingering trace that made my senses awaken with every drop.
"You did this to me," he murmured against my skin, his breath ragged, uneven—like a man on the edge of something dangerous. He buried his face against the curve of my breasts again, as if seeking refuge, but there was no escape now. Not for him. Not for me.
"And now…" His voice was a whisper, raw with need. "I can't stop myself. I won’t hold back anymore."
That perfume still clung to my skin—too much of it. It needed to be washed away. Otherwise, things were definitely going to get complicated between us afterward.
"So… be a good girl," he coaxed, his words slow and deliberate, dripping with heat. His hands slid down to my waist, fingers tightening with quiet possession as he pulled me flush against him. Then, with a kiss that was both a plea and a demand, he shattered what little restraint remained.
"And take me."
He was going to be the death of me…
And I was already slipping, drawn to him like a moth to the flame—
Ready to burn.
Ready to break.
Ready to fall for him. Again. Again. And again.