by Watson, Meg
“That’s better now, isn’t it?” he whispered, folding his arms around me. As his grip tightened, I felt my legs stop trembling. I breathed him deeply, becoming stronger every second.
“It’s better,” I said in a small voice, raising my eyes to meet his.
He shook his head slightly, and after a few seconds I saw a small smile curl at the corners of his lips.
“You’re so much strong than I even thought, Julie,” he breathed. I found myself nodding.
I’m so much stronger. I am.
“I didn’t know you were going to be able to watch,” he whispered. He spoke so close that his lips brushed against mine and I tasted the coppery, salty tang of blood on my tongue.
In moments his lips were on mine, prying my mouth open. His tongue pressed against my teeth and I arched my back, hungry for his kiss. The taste of him exploded in my mouth in a cascade of angry, furious fireworks. Before I understood what was happening, the robe had fallen from my shoulders and my legs were locked around his hips, and he was half-running, carrying me back to Gretchen’s room as I held on for dear life.
CHAPTER 1
The door to Gretchen's room swung open with a bang and I held on tight to Rafe’s hips as he carried me toward the bed. I could not let him go, could not stop kissing him. It was as though I was starving for him and had been my whole life. The taste of him was like meat on my tongue, giving me strength, making me whole.
His fingers dug against the backs of my thighs as he lifted me up, tossing me effortlessly onto the pristine, plush comforter. I pushed myself backward along the blankets, dutifully raising my arms over my head. He balanced himself over me, letting his eyes trail along my arms to my wrists. His slow smile spread across his pale pink lips as he realized what I was offering: my utter submission.
“Oh, you're a good little pet, aren't you?” he murmured, delight curling the corners of his mouth.
In a whirl, he was off me and off the bed, leaning over the small bedside table. He slid open the black drawer and drew out two lengths of midnight-colored velvet. I held my hands over my head and paused, panting. I could barely wait for what was next.
His fingers were precise and soft as he looped the velvet ropes over my right wrist and drew it snugly to the bedpost. Then he slowly prowled around the end of the bed, his eyes focused on mine, glittering darkly. I kept my left hand ready against the pillow and moaned softly when he plucked my wrist gently in his fingers to secure the binding. The sound of the rope sliding over the carved wooden headboard was a beautiful percussion.
When both my hands were bound and my arms stretched out wide, Rafe paced to the end of the bed and stood there, looking me over hungrily. He pushed his hands through his black hair and paused, tense and flexing.
Slowly, deliberately, his hands fell and began unbuttoning his silk shirt. My eyes feasted on the thick, sculpted muscle as he drew the shirt over his shoulders and let it fall to the floor with a soft billowing noise. My hips squirmed against the silken sheets in anticipation. I couldn't stop staring at him. After all the time that we had spent together and all the ways that he had scourged and pleasured my body, I realized that I had never really seen him.
A dark line zagged down the front of his naked chest and I realized suddenly that was Micah’s blood. To my surprise, my heart quickened at the thought. Rafe’s fingers snapped open his belt buckle and then his trousers, peeling back the woolen fabric to expose the defined crescent of muscle over his hip. As his cock bobbed free, I saw that it was thick and dusky at the tip, perfectly straight and glistening with desire.
My legs opened as though they had a will of their own. As the skin on my thighs pulled apart, I could feel cool air intruding on the slick wetness of my folds. Rafe narrowed his eyes as I slid my ankles apart, exposing myself to him. His fingers flexed against the carved footboard and he nodded slowly.
“If we do this,” he snarled, “there will be no going back.”
I nodded.
"No," he said, his eyes flashing like lightning. “That is not a vain promise. I need you to understand: if we do this, you will have to be mine. Forever.”
I looked at him carefully, measuring each ridge and ripple of his lean body with my eyes. I could almost feel what it would be like to run my tongue over the swell of each muscle.
“Say it.”
“I will be yours,” I repeated in a whisper.
He shifted his weight to one hip, his cock still pointing straight at me with the unbroken stare of a cobra ready to strike.
“I will,” I said in a louder voice. “I will be yours, Rafe. Forever.”
Without another word, he leapt over the footboard and crawled up the bed toward me. It happened so fast, I barely had time to register that it was happening at all.
If I expected him to be slow, I was wrong. If I expected him to be tentative or mincing, I was so, so wrong. Rafe pushed my thighs apart with his hands and entered me in one strong, irrevocable thrust. His girth was so enormous I felt as though I was tearing, but he paused when he was embedded up to the hilt and I sucked in a single cleansing breath.
“I knew you could take it," he snarled in my ear.
His hands tangled in my hair and he rested his weight on his elbows as he began to pound mercilessly into me. I flung my legs over his hips and locked my ankles together, welcoming every inch. I felt as though I had been overcome as though by an ocean wave. I was drowning, overwhelmed. I could barely breathe as his kisses sucked every breath from my lips. For a moment I thought I might suffocate, and I felt like I couldn't breathe deeply enough to stay conscious. And still he thrust into me over and over again, coming out almost entirely before plunging back in with a strength and intensity that I had never even contemplated before.
The sound of his snarls filled my mouth and ears. I closed my eyes to experience every sensation more fully. I breathed him deeply into my lungs, that scent of his piney, spicy cologne becoming more acidic and musky with every passing second. When his shoulders broke out in a fine mist of sweat I knew he was getting close. I wiggled my hips in tight circles underneath him, trying to find my path to ecstasy before he came. But he filled me so completely that it wasn't very difficult at all. He pushed all my buttons effortlessly.
As I circled my hips desperately I felt the bright crimson bloom in my mind. His snarls became more urgent and I followed the bloom deeper and deeper into my mind until it burst, splitting open in a triumph of bliss that poured through my body like a flood.
Rafe roared into my mouth as he came, and I felt the hot surge of his seed spilling through every crevice of me. His entire body arched and flexed and I bit my lip to keep from crying out as he drove himself so deeply into me that I thought I couldn't take the pain anymore. But after a few moments he subsided, slumping on me heavily, panting and gasping.
With quaking fingers he reached up and released the knots that bound me. I wrapped my arms over his heaving shoulders, stroking his wet hair and holding him as tightly as I could.
As the pleasure ebbed and receded slowly, I kept my arms locked around his shoulders. After a little while, I felt a buzzing, satisfied drowsiness overcome me, and began to sink into sleep.
“You promised, don’t forget,” I thought I heard him whisper as I drifted away. “You are mine.”
CHAPTER 2
Morning filled the window with a grey mist so slowly that I didn't even realize I was awake for a long time. I lay there as I had the night before, with my arms folded protectively over Rafe's shoulders. He breathed deeply, dreamless and leaden, his weight so massive and profound that I was helpless beneath him.
As the room brightened, I looked him over slowly, thoroughly. Each muscle was well-defined beneath the skin even though he was totally relaxed. I wondered if that was some natural genetic gift or if he exercised religiously. It was all so perfect. His skin had the luxurious sheen of someone who regularly applied oils to it. His nails were bright and clean, lightly buffed by the looks of them. Even
the inky triangle of his pubic hair was orderly and sculpted, seeming to point to the beautiful, thick manhood that lay heavily between his thighs.
Such a beautiful beast.
I flexed my hips and shoulders tentatively, feeling the tightness there. My skin was still raw where the last marks had striped me. My shoulders were sore from being bound, and my sex pulsed as though bruised. And yet I felt ridiculously, thoroughly alive.
He was right. What a difference obedience makes.
I thought I had a handle on playing nice. My whole life, it certainly seemed as though I was always trying to do what someone was telling me, but it had never worked out like this. My big mouth: that’s what usually made it all go to pieces. That’s what I had to learn to control. If only Aunt Rinna could see me now, she would be able to see that it all might turn out fine. For me, anyway.
I stayed quiet, shifting my head as slowly as I could to get a better look. His square, strong jaw was covered in a dark charcoal smudge of stubble that I definitely wanted to touch. But not yet. My eyes lingered over every curve and plane of his face, noting the perfect arch of his jet-black brows, the unlined expanse of his forehead, the thick Grecian curl of his upper lip.
His eyelids were waxy, almost translucent, and seemed to have a blue-tinged line that ran along his lashes. As I watched, he opened his eyes suddenly and focused on me. His gaze was immediate and utterly direct, as though he had not been sleeping at all. As though he had simply opened his eyes again after the briefest blink.
“I'm sorry… Did I wake you?” I asked in a careful whisper.
“I wake at 6:15,” he answered simply.
I could not think of anything to say and so just sighed, my fingers tentatively tracing the outline of his face. It seemed like a risk, but he smiled and allowed me to drag my fingertips up and down the bristly yet velvety stubble of his jaw.
“Oh, Jolie,” he nodded, “we're going to have such fun together.”
“Julie,” I reminded him gently, letting my fingers trail down his neck and over the swell of his shoulder muscles.
He grinned broadly. “You see?” he asked with a superior quirk of his eyebrow. “Already you have come so far in your training. This will not be very difficult, Julie. You were made for this.”
He shifted his weight, freeing the right side of my body which simultaneously surged with relief and cried out to be underneath him again. Positioning himself over me, he rested his weight on his elbows and knees and dipped his head to place a line of gentle kisses along the burning streak at the top of my breast. The whip mark was just beginning to heal and the kisses felt like tiny brands.
“I was made for this?” I repeated incredulously, turning the thought over in my mind and trying not to wince as his kisses burned so bright on my skin.
I felt him nod as his kisses turned to bites and he nibbled the trail down to my nipple. “You were. Can't you see it?”
“I — I think I can,” I whispered tentatively.
Suddenly he was at eye level again, peering seriously at me.
“You know it, don't you?” he said in a low voice.
I wasn't sure what to say. Instinctually, I wanted to conceal myself but found his gaze too intense to turn away from. Once again I felt as though he could see right into the middle of me and I began to tremble.
“Shhhh — there, now,” he purred.
“I don't know what's happening," I murmured.
He shifted his weight, aligning his body with mine and pinning me fully against the plush mattress. Gratefully I accepted his mass, hoping that it would calm the tremor in my breast.
“You know exactly what's happening. You're embracing your nature. Courage, Julie. It won't be long now.”
“But how did you know?”
He shook his head slightly. “I just knew. I could see it in you. Haven't things been hard for you for a long time?"
“Well, yes..."
“It’s because you were fighting it. As I told you, you're stronger than you realize, but you are giving your strength away to all the wrong people. Now that you have someone who knows how to take care of you —”
He shifted his weight again, dipping his hips below mine and then coming up suddenly, the thick fist of his cock pressing hard against my entrance.
“— now you'll see…”
Slowly but firmly, he began to enter me, forcing my thighs apart with his knees at the same time. I sucked in my breath and reflexively brought my wrists up over my head. With a smile and a deep growl he reached to my wrists and pinned them beneath his thick hands as he finished his upward thrust.
“Perfect,” he murmured. “Simply perfect.”
In seconds, every joint that had been sore and stiff was suddenly loose and limber as energy surged through me. I curled my toes against the silken sheet and arched my back to take even more of him. His lips found mine in a crushing kiss, forcing my teeth apart with his hot tongue.
And then the chime sounded.
Rafe choked back a snarl and began to pump harder into me.
"Rafe… The chapel…”
“Not now!”
I held my breath and squinted my eyes closed, trying to concentrate. I was going to have to learn how to relax my body if I was going to be his. His cock was so thick and long that I could barely keep from squealing in pain every time he reached the hilt. Soon the sound of his hips slapping against my ass filled the room.
And the chime rang again.
“Rafe!"
“Not now!"
He pinned my arms back with his elbows against mine and began to plunge furiously deep. I locked my ankles behind his clenching buttocks and held my breath, commanding my body to submit to the beating he was giving me. His skin misted over with sweat and our bellies slapped and slid against each other.
I didn't even realize that I heard footsteps in the hall until the door banged open. Rafe barked a wolfish snarl and whirled around, his cock slipping out of me with an almost comical slurping noise. It flopped against his thigh as he twisted into a seated position.
Bronson stood at the door, his hands out from his sides, his face a mask of indignation and horror. He opened his mouth to speak and then twisted his jaw into a snarl, gnashing his crooked teeth together so hard I thought they might shatter.
“Out!"
Bronson trembled where he stood, then took two steps in. He raised one crooked finger to point at me and then his arm pivoted in the air.
“The chapel," he growled.
I pulled at the sheets, trying to cover myself but they were pinned underneath Rafe’s thighs. Clawing fruitlessly, I desperately wished for a way to cover myself from Bronson's seething, hateful glare.
Rafe didn't even seem to notice that he was naked or that his glistening wet erection was pointing at the ceiling, virtually throbbing with an interrupted release. I watched his fingers curl against the sheets and worried he was about to tear them to ribbons.
“Get. Out.”
Bronson threw his head back and stared at the ceiling. My hands fluttered to my mouth, and I knuckled back a cry of outrage and disbelief. He was making a sound, and in a few moments I realized it was laughter. He was laughing.
What the fuck?
"Oh, this is good,” Bronson said through a laugh with no humor in it. "You're fucking… Her. On my sister's bed."
“I don't see how that's any of your business,” Rafe snarled.
His sister… Gretchen?
"Oh, I bet you wouldn't,” Bronson sneered, bringing his head down and staring at Rafe directly. His eyes shone like bright pennies.
Rafe got up on his knees, kneeling on the bed in an animal challenge. Bronson refused to sway, though I watched his adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed repeatedly.
“There's someone in the chapel for you. Someone you're going to want to see,” Bronson snarled, hate dripping from his voice. “Now."
“It can wait."
Bronson folded his arms over his chest, the ropy muscles
bunching and twitching with restraint. He clearly wasn't going anywhere and stood with his legs shoulder-width apart.
A silent conversation shot back and forth between them. I could almost feel the words flying through the air though I didn't understand entirely what they meant.
After what seemed like several minutes, Rafe shifted his weight to one knee. I thought I saw him nod slightly as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and rose to standing. His magnificent hard-on still pointed proudly upward as he drew his trousers up, pausing for a moment to shove the erection to the side and zip his pants.
I couldn't help but snicker inwardly at how unevenly matched they were. Bronson was being stubborn and doing his best to puff up and look menacing, but he was no match for my magnificent beast.
Rafe whirled around, walking quickly to the wardrobe and pulling out a simple, powder blue cotton wrap dress and then leaning toward me. He draped the dress over my nakedness and pressed his lips against my forehead.
“I won't be long, darling,” he whispered, as tenderly as anything I had ever heard, despite the reality of what I knew he was going to do.
Bronson stepped to the side as Rafe exited the room, buttoning his shirt smartly as he went. I stood and opened the dress, turning away modestly from Bronson as I snugged it over my hips and arranged the waist tie in a neat bow.
When I turned back around, Bronson was still staring at me with his penny-bright eyes. His lip was curled in a sneer over his upper teeth. I could see the bulge in his trousers as he bounced back and forth on the balls of his feet.
My hand automatically went up to the collar of my dress and I tugged it tighter around me.
“Pl-please let me by,” I said, more timidly than I meant too. He let his arms drop to his sides and I flinched instinctively, the memory of his boot driving cruelly between my ribs still fresh and painful in my mind.
“Oh, you ain't going anywhere,” he said in a low hiss. “I don't know who the fuck you think you are or what the fuck you think you're doing —”