Then he reached into his back pocket, took out his wallet and extracted a silver packet, tossing the wallet away as carelessly as he’d tossed aside her jeans. He flicked open the button of his pants and jerked the zipper down, then pushed down the fabric of his underwear, releasing his cock.
Ella blinked. She’d seen naked men before—dancers weren’t shy—but certainly not like . . . this. Long. Thick. Hard. Her hand had reached out to touch him before she’d realized what she’d done, making the hungry smile on his face widen with very male satisfaction. But he knocked her hand away before she could get close.
“Uh-uh, darling,” he purred. “You don’t get to touch me yet. You have to earn that.”
Earn that? What did he mean?
Her thoughts reeled, bouncing from one weird thing to another. She felt dizzy, desperate, vulnerable. Lying there with her legs spread wide while he ripped open the condom packet and took out the latex, rolling it down that enormous cock of his with a skillful lazy movement that made her breathing get even faster.
God. This was going to happen, wasn’t it? Now. On the stairs.
She made a strange sound as he reached down and spread her wide again, turned it into a gasp as his hips flexed and he pressed the head of his cock against her entrance. Pushing harder.
She panted, feeling herself begin to stretch to accommodate him. It burned, the sensation becoming more intense as he pushed harder, pain clenching tight as he slid even deeper.
A gasp of shock tore from her, but he didn’t stop, the smile on his face becoming a snarl. He slid his hands beneath her butt, lifting her, angling her hips to take him even deeper.
“It hurts,” she groaned helplessly, twisting to try to find some way to ease it, but finding nothing. Because he was inside her and he was too much, too big. Too overwhelming. It hurt and there was no room for air in her lungs because he’d taken it. He’d taken everything.
She lifted her hands to push him away, but he grabbed them, crossing her wrists in one powerful hand and holding them, forcing them up and over her head, pinning them to the floor. Then he was stretched out over her, stretched out inside her, pinning her everywhere. Holding her down and making her surrender.
She was shaking, sweat breaking out all over her, in pain and panicking.
“Look at me,” he ordered, low and dark.
And she did, and she was caught. Held by that shockingly intense blue gaze.
“Stop panicking,” he went on the same tone. “Stop being a bunny, Red. That’s not you. That’s not why you’re here. I’m not fucking you because you’re easy prey, I’m fucking you because you’re not. Because you’re a fighter. So fight me, darling. Fight for what you want.”
Anger flared inside her, as if all it had been waiting for was his summons. Making her lift her head and kiss that cruel, sensual mouth of his, stopping his words. Making her sink her teeth into his bottom lip.
He growled again, and she felt him draw his hips back then shove deep and hard inside her. And again. And again. Each thrust violent, making no allowances for her inexperience, or the fact that she was smaller than he was.
And all of a sudden the pain and the panic fell away. He wasn’t treating her as fragile or scared. He was treating her as the was strong, iron-disciplined dancer she was on stage, not the scared little girl she’d become off it.
She loved it.
She bit him again, harder this time, straining to pull her hands away from his imprisoning grip. He only gave another of those impossibly sexy, dark laughs and held her tighter, his thrusts getting faster, harder. The sound of flesh hitting flesh echoed around them, but Ella had lost any embarrassment she’d had earlier.
Pleasure was coiling inside her and the more she struggled against him, the more intense it became. She licked at his mouth, bit him again, pulling and tugging against his hold, at the same time as she moved her hips, relishing the thick slide and push of his cock as it slammed into her.
So good. So impossibly good.
Her world had become nothing but the feel of his fingers around her wrists, his mouth on hers, the brush of his pants against her sensitive inner thighs, the rough sounds he made with each thrust inside her, the thick musky/spicy scent of him.
She struggled harder, wanting more, the pleasure leaping higher, like a fire, burning her up on the inside. Somehow she’d clamped her legs around his waist, angling her hips for the best possible friction, and she could hear herself begging him. It didn’t matter. She wanted to beg. She wanted to come more than she wanted her next breath.
“Greedy,” he murmured thickly against her mouth. “Greedy, Little Red.” Then he moved his free hand between her thighs and pressed hard on her clit, and she was coming, the orgasm rolling over her like a freight train, immense and inescapable, making her scream in his ear and shake like an earthquake was wrenching her apart.
Then he was moving even faster, even harder, chasing his own release, his free hand gripping her hip hard enough to leave bruises. He gave a low, guttural roar as it hit, his thrusts getting wild and jerky, before he turned his head into her neck, his teeth closing on the delicate tendons there, not hard enough to hurt but enough to make her tremble, her muscles tensing.
There was a moment’s silence, their combined breathing harsh and echoing. He was hot and heavy between her thighs, the pressure of him enough to make her catch her breath and arch against him, as if she hadn’t had the most intense orgasm of her life.
Abruptly, Rafael released her wrists and eased himself out of her. Then he got to his feet and without a word, stepped over her prone body and walked off down the hallway.
Ella blinked at the ceiling. Was that . . . it? He’d taken her on the stairs and now he’d just left?
She didn’t know what to do. Her thighs ached like she’d danced for two hours straight, and she felt tender and slightly sore. Her limbs were all heavy too, aftershocks of that orgasm pulsing through her, making her simply want to lie there and not move.
God, what had he done to her? He’d told her he was going to fuck her senseless and he had, and now she felt wrecked, destroyed. Yet in a good way, if that was even possible. But . . . was he coming back? Or was he going to leave her here without a word?
Yet before she could push herself to her feet to find out, Rafael returned.
And this time he was naked.
Her breath caught, all thoughts of moving vanishing from her head. He was just . . . so beautiful. Lean and long, wide shoulders and broad chest, sculpted abs and narrow hips. His skin was smooth and tanned, sprinkled with curling chest hair and a glory trail that led straight to that beautiful cock, semi-hard between his legs. There was also a scattering of white scars on his torso and some on his arms that made her curiosity flicker to life.
She pushed herself up as he came to stand where he’d been kneeling before, on the step below her, opening her mouth to ask him about them.
But then he bent and before she could speak, pulled her top up and off her, getting rid of her bra with the same efficiency so she was left sitting on the floor as naked as he was.
Ella blinked up at him as he bent down again, this time gathering her into his arms, making all the questions she’d been going to ask go completely out of her head as the heat of his bare skin touched hers. She thought he was going to bear her off back to the bedroom, but he didn’t. Instead he turned around and took her down into the huge expanse of the living room. Pausing near the coffee table to let a couple of the condom packets he’d been holding in one hand drop onto it, he continued on toward the looming banks of windows, where the night pressed against the glass.
“What are you doing?” she asked, puzzled.
“You’ll see.” He put her down in front of one of the windows, nudging her gently forward so she was standing only bare inches from the darkness outside.
They were high up, she couldn’t help but see, the street a good ten floors down. She felt a bit dizzy and tried to step back, only to come up against the
hot length of his naked body standing behind her.
“Oh no,” he murmured, his hands coming to rest on her hips. “No backing away, Little Red. I have a fantasy I want to enact, and you’re going to help me.”
Her heartbeat had begun to race, familiar anxiety gathering inside her. She didn’t want to look down, see how high up they were, not to mention the fact that standing there, both of them naked and with the light behind them, they were very, very visible. “Someone might see,” she said breathlessly, disturbed to realize that despite all of the things that made her scared, she was kind of excited too.
“Yes, they might.” He urged her forward a little more, so the tips of her nipples were touching the cold glass, making them harden into stiff points. “So let’s give them a performance they’ll never forget, hmmm?”
Oh . . . God. He couldn’t be serious could he?
“Rafael . . .” She sounded unsteady. “I don’t . . . like heights. Or . . . or being watched.”
“Well, I know you don’t like heights. Which is why you’re not going to be looking down, you’ll be looking up. You’re going to be looking at the lights and the stars, because, Little Red, I’m going to make you see the entire fucking Milky Way.” His warm breath chased over her shoulder. “And as for being watched, that’s a straight-out lie. I’ve seen you perform. You fucking love it.”
She was shivering, the cold glass pressing against her front, Rafael’s hard, hot body pressed against her back. He was kissing her now, the side of her neck and her shoulder, biting gently, and at the same time, he moved his hand from her hip and over her stomach, stroking down between her thighs.
That dark, dirty pleasure began to tighten inside her again, making her breath catch as his fingers found her clit, circling and teasing.
“This was what I wanted to do at the restaurant,” he murmured against her skin. “Fuck you against the window. Give you pleasure instead of fear. Would you like me to do that now? Show you all the stars in the sky?” His hand dipped further, one finger sliding into her, making her moan helplessly. “Tell me, Red. Beg me. Beg me to fuck you against this window.”
She didn’t want to, because she was scared, yet the part of her that did want to was getting larger, braver. Hotter. Wetter. “Y-Yes,” she whispered unsteadily, the glass pressing against her hard nipples only adding to the intense sensations. “I want you to.”
“Want me to what?” He pushed her harder against the window, every inch of that magnificent body of his pressed to hers, a raging furnace lying along her spine. The hand between her thighs didn’t stop moving, his fingers sliding in deep then pulling back out, while he moved his other hand around to cup her breast, pinching her nipple. “I need to hear the words, Ella.”
She stared into the darkness behind the glass, seeing the reflection of him behind her, looming over her, that hungry, taut look on his face again. So hot . . .
“F-Fuck me,” she heard herself say. “Please, Rafael.”
“Rafe.” His gaze found hers in the reflection, held it. “My name is Rafe.”
She sucked in a breath. “Fuck me, Rafe.” And this time she didn’t stutter.
He gave another of those dark laughs, all sexy and lazy. “Hands on the glass. It’s time to star gaze.”
So she did as she was told, excitement winding tight inside her, and his hands slipped from her body and there was cold air at her back. She heard the sound of foil tearing and a second later, his heat was right behind her again, and his hands were once more between her thighs, spreading her open. Then she was pressed forward against the glass as he found his way inside her, the brutal stretch of him making her groan, making her pant until he was seated as deep as he could get.
“Don’t close your eyes.” He bit her shoulder gently. “Look at the lights. See the stars.”
He moved, slow and lazy, plastering her body against the window, the heat making the glass fog, and she didn’t close her eyes and she didn’t look away. Watching the darkness outside and the glow of the city, feeling the pleasure began to build, so intense, so perfect. He was right, there were lights. Lights outside and stars behind her eyes. Pulsing in time with each thrust, galaxies unreeling, meteors streaming, and she was gasping, moving with him, shoving herself back against him, writhing against the windowpane.
He put one hand over hers, pulling it off the glass and guiding her own fingers between her thighs, to her clit, showing her how to touch herself in time with his thrusts to give herself the most pleasure. And very soon all the stars behind her eyes were going nova, and her head went back against his shoulder, gasping his name as the climax hit.
But he didn’t stop, keeping his movements slow and lazy, as if he could do this all night, taking her down from that high only to build her up to another, even stronger, even deeper. She sobbed, clawing at the glass as a second orgasm came like a swelling tide, overwhelming her, tearing another hoarse scream from her throat.
She barely heard him growl her name as it took him too, her cheek pressed to the window, the cool feel of it welcome against her hot skin. For a second he rested against her, his breathing harsh in her ear, then he was pulling out of her and gathering her up in his arms again. Probably a good thing since after three orgasms, she didn’t think she could actually walk. She was conscious of being carried over to the long sectional sofa and put gently down on it before being covered with a soft woolen throw. There was a moment of silence and peace as Rafe left the room briefly, then was back, joining her on the sofa, wrapping his long, hot muscular body around hers and nuzzling her neck, possessive and territorial.
She found herself relaxing into his arms, her eyes slowly falling closed, letting his mouth trail from her neck and across one shoulder. One big palm cupped her left breast, his thumb moving back and forth on her nipple in an idle caress. It was an undemanding touch, yet made involuntary shivers chase themselves over her skin.
“My performance tonight?” she mumbled, her thoughts drifting.
“Taken care of.”
“Aurora?”
“Her condition hasn’t changed. I’ve notified the doctors to let me know if it does.”
“I should go home.”
“No, you shouldn’t.” His hand tightened possessively on her breast. “Are you hungry? Should I get you something to eat?”
“I’m fine.” She felt so tired. Exhausted. Like she could sleep for an entire week. Her body felt heavy and boneless, and so warm. And he was right up against her, hot as a furnace, his arms around her, holding her close. Keeping her safe.
She didn’t mean to fall asleep.
But she did.
* * *
Rafe didn’t move. He debated picking her up and carrying her to his bed, but he didn’t want to wake her because she needed the sleep, so he decided they could both take the couch for the night. He didn’t sleep immediately.
She was warm and soft and finally, after so long, naked in his arms, and he wanted to savor the moment. He wasn’t done with her, of course, as his aching cock reminded him, but he ignored it, happy to stroke her gently and hold her against him, leaving her to sleep.
He slept eventually, only to wake the next morning to find her turned toward him, her head tucked under his chin, her cheek against his chest.
Burying his fingers in her hair, he let one hand wander off over her soft, slight curves. Her skin was so delicate and yet the muscles beneath . . . iron hard. Fragility and strength, such an intoxicating combination.
Maybe that had been what had tripped the switch in him the night before.
He hadn’t known what had made him look up from the work he’d been doing on his laptop, since he’d been totally involved in it. Yet something had. And then he’d caught sight of her, standing on the stairs, watching him.
Her cheeks had been flushed and in her eyes was a certain gleam that told him it wasn’t fear she was feeling now. Oh no, it was something very different and a hell of a lot hotter.
An invitation. And he’d nev
er been one to pass up an invitation.
She’d been . . . Christ. She’d been everything he could have wanted and more. Yes, he’d demanded a lot, been utterly selfish, doing what he’d wanted with her both on the stairs and up against that window. But she’d risen to the challenge like he’d always known she would.
He could feel her teeth nipping his bottom lip even now, and the pressure of her legs as they’d clamped around his waist. The tight squeeze of her pussy around his dick, and her breathless cries, her sobs, the way she’d screamed his name . . .
His fingers tightened in her hair and it was all he could do not to wrench her head back and cover her mouth, kiss her again, because he was starting to get hungry, starting to get desperate.
No, no. He didn’t need to be desperate now. She was right here, sleeping peacefully in his arms.
Rafe pressed his face against the softness of her hair, taking a long, slow, deep breath. The scent of her calmed him, though the way she was lying all pressed up against him, was not making his cock any less hard.
He could wake her, of course. Slide his hand between her thighs and stroke her, kiss her eyes open, get her good and wet and ready for him. But then she needed her sleep, especially after the past couple of days, and besides, now she was here, there would be plenty of time to explore that gorgeous body of hers. Not everything needed to be right here, right now.
Patience.
After a couple of eons—at least they felt like eons, though were probably only minutes—she stirred, her hands resting lightly on his chest, her head slowly tipping back as her eyes opened. She blinked sleepily at him and smiled. “Good morning. I mean, it is morning, right?”
That smile. Jesus. It made something inside him hurt.
“Yes, it’s morning.” He lifted his hand to push an errant strand of hair behind her ear. “And I’ve been waiting for you to wake up since forever.”
“Oh really?” She blinked again, her fingers absently stroking his chest in a way that was vaguely maddening. “Why?”
He reached down, sliding his hand behind her thigh, urging her to lift it up and over his hip, bringing her groin into contact with his. “This is why.” He flexed slightly, his cock pressing against the slick heat of her pussy.
The Big, Bad Billionaire Page 13