When Falcone's World Stops Turning

by Abby Green

  Helplessly, in a whisper of supplication that she hated, Sam just replied, ‘Yes...’

  * * *

  Yes.

  Rafaele felt primal satisfaction rush through him, hardening his body. He wanted to devour Sam, consume her, brand her. He wanted her for ever.

  No!

  Rafaele rejected that rogue assertion, which had slid into his mind before he’d even acknowledged it.

  He couldn’t let her hand go, though, even when she turned her head away to look out of the window. The rapid rise and fall of her breasts beneath the dress made him curl his other hand to a fist, just to stop himself reaching out to cup their heavy weight.

  Sam was clearly aware of the same ramifications as he, of being seen together and how that might be construed. But the thought of her rejecting that suddenly made him want to claim her. In any way that he could. Publicly and in private.

  But right now he couldn’t really focus on what that meant. Right now he wanted the physical.

  As the car swept gracefully through the palazzo gates anticipation spiked like a fever in his blood. When the car came to a halt he got out and strode around to Sam’s door, helping her out himself. She looked up at him with those huge expressive eyes and desire was hot and urgent inside him—part of the tangled mess of emotions this woman inspired in him on a regular basis.

  With one smooth move he picked her up into his arms. Her mouth was tight with a need that resonated within him. He felt like a beast. He couldn’t speak. What he needed right now was not something he could even articulate. It was visceral, physical. Urgent.

  * * *

  Sam was in Rafaele’s arms and he was striding through the front door of the palazzo. All she could feel was her breasts crushed to the solid wall of his chest and the pulse of awareness between them, like a tangible forcefield of energy.

  The house was quiet. He was striding up the stairs now and Sam bit her lip. Rafaele carried her straight into his bedroom. She tensed against the leap of her blood at the promise of satisfaction. A moment of sanity intruded, reminding her of the certain self-recrimination she would face in the aftermath and all the uncertainty about how he felt about her.

  Weakly she seized on the first thing she thought of. ‘Wait... Milo...’

  Rafaele was putting her down, sliding her along the length of his hard body, one part of which in particular was very hard. He was already pulling down the strap of her dress and her skin tingled.

  His voice was rough. ‘Milo is with Bridie, as you well know.’

  That sliver of sanity compelled her to try again, even though every part of her protested. ‘Rafaele...’

  ‘Stop talking, Sam. I want you. You want me. It’s very simple.’

  It wasn’t that simple, though, and Sam opened her mouth to protest again. But then Rafaele was kissing her, and pulling the strap of her dress down further, and she felt the rising lust suck her under and weakly...she gave in. She wanted to forget sanity and take this.

  Between her legs she was slick and throbbing. She didn’t have a hope of resisting when Rafaele bared one breast and cupped it in his hand, squeezing the plump flesh, his thumb grazing her nipple.

  Letting out a soft moan halfway between frustration at her own weakness and excitement at her building desire, Sam wound her arms around Rafaele’s neck and pressed herself against him, trapping his hand on her breast.

  Rafaele’s other hand came down and cupped her buttocks, kneading the flesh, making Sam’s hips roll against him impatiently. She could feel the thick length of his erection between them and fresh heat pulsed to her core.

  Rafaele pulled back for a moment, breathing harshly, his eyes glittering fiercely. It was hard for Sam to open her eyes. She felt dazed. He’d always had this effect on her—one touch and she felt drugged.

  He was dragging off his jacket, tie and shirt, dropping them to the ground, unbuckling his belt, undoing his trousers.

  His voice was guttural. ‘I want you naked now.’

  Sam’s flesh prickled with anticipation. Her hands felt stupid as she tried to pull down her strap and, issuing something that sounded like a curse, Rafaele took over, turning her around and finding the zip, pulling it down and peeling the heavy fabric from her body.

  Sam kicked off her shoes. Now she wore only black lace panties. Rafaele turned her around again and that hot green gaze swept down her body, lingering on her breasts, which seemed to swell and tighten under his look.

  ‘You’re so beautiful.’

  Sam ducked her head. ‘No, I’m not.’

  Rafaele tipped up her chin, forcing her to look at him.

  ‘Yes, you are.’

  He’d done this before—made her feel buoyant. Feminine. And it had all been ripped to pieces when he’d rejected her. But Sam couldn’t focus on that now.

  He pulled her into him again and Sam swayed towards him like a magnet. He kissed her, tongue thrusting deep, fanning the flames of lust within her. He was naked now, and her hand instinctively sought to touch him, finding and encircling his erection, moving up and down, feeling the slip and slide of satin skin over all that steely strength.

  His mouth not leaving hers, Rafaele skimmed his hand down from her breast over her belly, down to her panties and underneath, his fingers seeking and finding that sweet molten spot, making her legs part so that he could have more access.

  As he stroked and explored Sam broke off the kiss. And then one of Rafaele’s fingers thrust inside her and Sam’s legs went weak with the sharp, spasming pleasure that gripped her.

  With dextrous hands Rafaele pushed her panties down and lifted her, to deposit her on the bed. Sam could only look up at Rafaele and marvel at his sheer masculine magnificence. He was so broad and powerful. Narrow waist and hard-muscled thighs and between them... Her mouth watered.

  She sat up and looked up at Rafaele. He was watching her almost warily and she felt a heady rush of power. She moved to the edge of the bed and reached for him, her hands going to his hips, pulling him towards her.

  ‘Sam...’

  She ignored him and drew his length into her hand, and then she took him into her mouth. The remembered taste and feel of him was like an explosion on her senses. She barely heard his deep moan of satisfaction as she swirled her tongue around the bulbous tip, relearning his shape and what made him tense. His hands were in her hair, gripping her head.

  Her hand encircled him and her mouth and tongue licked and sucked. He’d taught her how to do this.

  ‘Dio, Sam...’

  Sam felt him tensing, the instinctive thrusting of his hips towards her, as if he couldn’t help himself. His hands were trying to pull her back, but she knew it was against his will. He’d never let her go this far before but stubbornly Sam wanted to see him lose control because of her and she kept going, ignoring his rough entreaties, until finally she felt the heat of his climax gush into her mouth and throat, felt his hips jerking.

  Sam kept her mouth on him for a long moment and then finally pulled back. She couldn’t help a smile when she saw Rafaele’s dazed-looking expression. Slowly that expression cleared and his eyes narrowed on her. She felt a shiver of trepidation mixed with anticipation go through her and recognised that he wasn’t happy with the way she’d made him lose it like that. She felt more powerful in that moment than she’d ever felt...

  Rafaele bent down and loomed over her on his hands, forcing her to move back onto the bed. She collapsed onto it.

  ‘I think I’m going to have to restrain you...’

  Sam looked at Rafaele blankly for a second, and then watched him stand up and go to a nearby cabinet. He pulled out two long slivers of silk and she realised they were ties. Something deep inside her quivered—but it wasn’t with fear, it was excitement. She didn’t know what he intended but secretly wanted to find out...

>   He took each hand and quietly wound a tie around each wrist, knotting it. Sam looked at him and bit her lip. Then Rafaele stretched her hands over her head, and Sam only realised what he’d done when she couldn’t bring her hands down again...he’d tied them to one of the bed’s four posts.

  ‘Rafaele... What...?’

  He came back down and over her. Not touching her, but letting her feel his body heat. ‘I want you to know what it feels like to lose control...’

  Sam could have laughed. She lost control every time she looked at this man! And there was something that felt so wickedly decadent about being restrained it overshadowed the sliver of discomfort. She trusted Rafaele above anything else, and that deep-seated knowledge shook her now. She hadn’t realised just how much she trusted him till this moment.

  He bent his head then, and his mouth was a hot brand on hers, opening her up to him, demanding a response which she gave unerringly. Already she felt the frustration of being bound. She wanted to touch him but couldn’t. She moaned softly with it, and could have sworn she heard Rafaele chuckle darkly.

  His mouth moved down, trailing over her jaw and neck. His hands were smoothing over her body, touching her but staying away from erogenous zones, making her grit her jaw to stop herself from begging. Her hands pulled ineffectually at the silken ties.

  And then Rafaele’s mouth was on her breast and her back arched. Yes. He lavished both taut peaks with attention until they were tingling and stinging. His hand had moved down to her belly and, like a wanton, Sam felt her legs part in mute appeal. Rafaele reared back for a moment and looked at her body. Sam gazed down to see his arousal already hard again, still glistening wetly from her mouth and tongue. She ached inside.

  Rafaele’s hand went to the juncture at her legs and then he was moving down, his mouth leaving little trails of fire as he pressed kisses under her breasts, to her abdomen and down. Sam’s breath stopped when she felt him pull her legs wide apart. Her hands pulled at the ties. She’d never been so bared or so vulnerable.

  Rafaele’s mouth settled there, between her legs, and Sam’s breath came back, choppy. She felt too hot, too tight, too...sensitive.

  ‘Rafaele...’

  But his tongue was on her now, exploring her sex, finding where she was so wet for him, opening her up, stabbing deep, making her moan uncontrollably, making her hips twitch. And then his tongue was replaced by his fingers, thrusting deep, and his other hand had found her breast, his thumb and forefinger pinching a nipple.

  A broken scream emerged from Sam’s mouth—a feral sound. Her hips were lifting off the bed, begging Rafaele for more, for him to drink from her as she came...as she’d done to him. And then the pleasure was peaking and spiralling out of all control, wresting her sane mind from her brain and leaving behind nothing but heat and deep, boneless satisfaction, with his mouth on her right to the end.

  Rafaele slowly came up and over her body. He pressed a kiss to her mouth and Sam could taste the essence of her desire on him. Could he taste himself on her? The thought ignited new fires deep down, diminishing her need to curl up and cling onto the boneless feeling. Sam was barely aware of being restrained now. She didn’t think she could have lifted her arms even if she’d wanted to.

  And then Rafaele was sliding into her...deeply. Sam sucked in a breath, her eyes going wide. He looked down at her and all she could see was green. And heat. And broad shoulders damp with sweat. He moved back out...slowly. One arm came around her back, arching her into him, making one breast pout up towards him, so he bent his head and took it into his mouth, suckling fiercely as he thrust, going a little deeper, harder.

  Sam gasped. It was too much. And now she did feel the restraints and she pulled against them. She needed to anchor herself to something. She felt as if Rafaele was going to drive her over the edge completely and she’d have nothing at all to hang onto.

  But she couldn’t articulate any words. Rafaele’s chest against her breasts was delicious torture. The ruthless rhythm of his body in and out of hers drove her higher and higher. She could only look deep into his eyes, as if that alone could hold her to this earth.

  Just at that moment something pierced her—anger at Rafaele, for reducing her to this mindless wanton, gasping and mute being. His powerful body was going so hard and deep now that Sam had to close her eyes, feeling as if a very secret part of herself was being bared to him in a way that she wasn’t ready for.

  Rafaele’s voice was guttural. ‘Sam, look at me.’

  But she couldn’t. He’d see it if she did. She’d never been laid so bare, made so vulnerable, and if she looked at him now he’d see how much she loved him—because she’d never stopped loving him. Even after all that had happened and the million reasons he’d given her for not loving him.

  ‘No,’ she said, equally guttural.

  Sam heard his rough shout as he made his frustration clear, but both their bodies were locked in a primal dance now and they were equally unable to stop. They could only go on, until the tight grip of tension was shattered and they orgasmed moments after each other, Sam’s body convulsing around Rafaele’s thick length so hard that she could feel it. She was milking him, taking his very essence into her, and the feeling was so intense and powerful on top of this awful, excoriating vulnerability that tears pricked her eyes.

  She turned her head away. Rafaele’s body was still within her, pulsing, slowly diminishing. She felt a tear slip down one cheek and finally managed to find the words she hadn’t been able to till now.

  ‘Untie me Rafaele.’

  She was trembling from an overload of pleasure and the revelation of just how deep her feelings for him were, still.

  ‘Sam...’

  ‘Just untie me.’ Her voice sounded harsh to her own ears.

  His hands reached up. She felt his arms and chest brush her body and she shivered convulsively against him. Even now. Deftly he undid the knots and Sam’s arms were free again, her wrists sore after pulling against the restriction. Terrified that Rafaele would see her emotions bared, Sam scooted out from under him and off the bed. She grabbed the nearest covering she could find, which was his shirt, and pulled it on and walked to the door.

  She heard Rafaele curse behind her and say, ‘Sam, wait... Where are you—?’

  But she was gone, walking blindly, on very wobbly legs, going anywhere that was away from his presence and his ability to reduce her to a melting mass of sensations and turbulent emotions. He’d wanted to dominate her and show her who was in control and he had done that beyond doubt. The eroticism of what she’d just been through felt tawdry now, as she imagined Rafaele coolly and clinically deciding how he would best show her who was boss. She had to get a grip before she faced him again.

  * * *

  Rafaele felt poleaxed. Self-recrimination rose upwards like bile. He would have an image burnt onto his retina for ever of Sam, with her hands bound above her head, her face turned away and a tear slipping down one cheek. He could still feel the strength of the pulsations of her body around his, and knew that it wasn’t pain or discomfort that had made her turn away.

  His last moment of semi-rational thought, he remembered, had been just before he’d come into Sam’s mouth, his body thrusting against her, his hands holding her head so that he could— He cursed and got up off the bed, a restless jagged energy filling his body.

  She’d always pushed him further than any other woman. He’d looked down at her when she’d taken her mouth from him—that wicked device of a torture more pleasurable than he could ever remember. She’d smiled at him and it had been full of something inherently feminine and mysterious... Rafaele’s first insidious thought had been...Did she do that with him? The lover she’d taken? Had he been the first to experience her mouth around him, taking him in so deep that he’d not been able to pull back but had gone to the brink and over it... Had she milked him the s
ame way?

  The thought had made him see red. He’d felt exposed—far more exposed than just being naked in front of her. Vulnerable in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. It had had echoes of the past, when he recalled his mother looking at his father so dispassionately, even though he was broken, at her feet.

  And suddenly Rafaele had wanted to regain control of a situation that was careening out of all control. He’d been losing it. So he’d bound her...so she couldn’t touch him and make him forget again...but he’d still lost it anyway. Tying her up had only heightened the experience, making it even more erotic, compelling...and it had done nothing but highlight the fact that even while restrained she exerted a power over him that he couldn’t deny.

  He grabbed some clothes and pulled them on perfunctorily. Rafaele’s gut felt sick as he left his room. She’d been crying. He looked in her room first, but it was dark and the bed was untouched. Then he went downstairs.

  He found her in the drawing room, standing at the window through which he could see a full moon hanging low in the sky. On Sam his shirt reached down to the backs of her thighs. Her legs were long and slim underneath. She looked incredibly fragile in the voluminous white material.

  ‘Sam...’

  CHAPTER NINE

  SAM’S SHOULDERS TENSED. Rafaele padded silently towards her on bare feet and she turned around, as if afraid he’d come too close. He saw a tumbler in her hand with a dark golden liquid.

  She smiled and it was tight, lifted the glass towards him. ‘Chin-chin.’ And then she took a deep gulp, draining the glass.

  He saw her cheeks flush but she made no sound. The evidence of tears was gone but her eyes looked huge, bruised.

  ‘Sam...’ He spoke through a sudden constriction in his throat. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you...’