by Tillie Cole
Raphael ripped back his hands as if her throat were protected by a naked flame. He didn’t like the feeling of defeat, didn’t know how to react to it. He never hesitated in his kills. It felt like he was suffocating, like phantom hands were choking his lungs.
“It’s ‘my lord,’” he hissed and yanked Maria up off the bed by her arms. “You don’t call me by my name. Ever.” He pulled her over him. Her knees straddled his, and her tits pressed against his chest. Maria’s eyes immediately dropped. Obeying his command.
“Yes, my lord,” she whispered.
Electricity buzzed through Raphael’s body, too fast and too strong for him to take. Maria’s hands were by her side, avoiding his skin. He imagined them on his chest again, on his face. No! His head twitched to the side at his inner war. He didn’t want it. Didn’t want anyone touching him intimately. Ever. He had to be in control. He needed to be in control.
Don’t submit. Never submit to anyone again.
The warmth on his cheek waned at that thought. But his body lurched. He wanted it back; he wanted the warmth from her hand back. He shouldn’t want it back!
Growling in frustration, Raphael wrapped Maria’s hair around his hand. He needed to feel the strands restricting the blood in his fingers. “Widen your legs,” he ordered. Raphael’s tone had dropped; it was harsher, demanding total obedience. Maria didn’t hesitate, causing the choking sensation in his lungs to grow stronger. He didn’t know why. What was this motherfucking feeling?
She widened her legs. “Pull up your dress.” Maria’s lips parted at the request. He dared her with his stare to refuse. But before she caught sight of his deathly gaze, she gathered the white dress in her hands and slowly pulled it up over her slim thighs. “Up to your waist,” Raphael said harshly when Maria stopped. She swallowed, but she hiked her dress higher, inch by inch, until the gauzy material was gathered at her small waist. Raphael’s skin ignited on seeing her so bare, seeing her so responsive to his orders. His groin tightened when he saw her pussy on display. His hand tightened in her hair. Maria’s eyes were focused on the mattress beneath her, yet his body began to heat from simply looking at her.
Maria brought warmth. Her touch had brought warmth to his face.
He was cold. He had always felt cold. In Purgatory, there was only ever cold and pain and screams. Not warmth and softness and smiles. He lived in darkness and coldness. It made him, raised him.
Darkness was who he was.
A growl built in Raphael’s throat. He didn’t like what she was doing to him. She had made him feel out of control. He needed it back. He had to put her in her place and make sure it never happened again.
The little rose needed to be schooled.
Raphael wound the rest of her hair around his other hand until he had her positioned, legs spread, in front of him, his hands holding the sections of her hair as if they were ropes. Winding them tighter and tighter until his hands were at her scalp, he used his purchase on her hair to tilt her head up. “Look at me.” Maria did. Raphael shook his head slowly. “You disobeyed me, little rose. You called me by my name. You touched my face. You got too brave.” Maria’s eyes were wide . . . but there was a quickening of her breath and a bright red flush to her chest. “No. . .” he hissed, realizing she was reacting positively to his harshness, his aggression. It only made his lungs squeeze harder. In this moment, she was meant to be scared. She was meant to fear his wrath.
Raphael wanted nothing more than to thrust her head down and make her pretty mouth take his cock in punishment, sucking so hard it shot excruciating pain to his suffocating balls. But he would like that too much. He needed to punish her. Needed to get her from underneath his skin. “You understand that you disobeyed me? Displeased me?”
“Yes, my lord,” Maria whispered, her voice meek.
Her meekness only made her effect on him worse. “You understand you have to pay the price of that behavior?” he snapped.
Maria’s cheeks burst into flames. “Yes, my lord.” Her voice had grown hoarse with anticipation. It took Raphael all he had not to groan at the sound of her addictive soft voice.
Painstakingly slowly, Raphael unraveled her hair from his hands until he had enough space to lie down on the bed. With only a thin clump of hair wound around each hand to control her moves, Raphael lay on his back. “Climb over me.”
He tugged on her hair, as if it were the reins of a horse. Maria shuffled forward until her knees were just above Raphael’s head. “Further. Knees on either side of my head. I want your cunt above my mouth. And that’s the last time I’m gonna tell you. Do not disobey me again.”
Raphael tugged harder on Maria’s hair to show her he meant it. With a small cry, Maria edged forward, shyness engulfing her face, a nervous blush coating every inch of her skin. Her nervousness made everything worse. It was fuel to his already raging flame. But he couldn’t stop. He needed to taste her, needed her on his tongue.
When she stilled, her pussy hovering just above Raphael’s mouth, he said, “You will lower yourself to my mouth. And you will take what I give.” He heard Maria’s labored breath. “You won’t move until I tell you. You won’t move your arms. You will keep them by your side. You can cry out.” Raphael let her slowly absorb the rules. “And I want to hear every second of your pleasure. Do you understand?”
“Yes, my lord. I understand.”
He was out of control. He couldn’t stop, he was governed by his need and this woman. Do not kill her, he told himself as his hands itched to take her life and rid himself of the strange feelings taking him over. Of her and her blue eyes and warm palm on his cheek.
Pulling Maria down by her hair, Raphael took the first taste of her pussy. Fire soared through the fibers of his muscles as soon as her flavor burst on his tongue. He should stop. Stop and kill her now. Cut off the strange effect she had on him with one snap of her neck, and find another to fulfill his fantasy. But he didn’t stop. Couldn’t. She was too perfect to dispose of. Instead he took her like a man starved, licking and sucking and groaning deeply with every cry of ecstasy she expelled above him. Her thighs shook from the pressure of being unable to move. Her arms were by her sides, and apart from the shudders of pleasure that sailed through her from Raphael’s relentless tongue, Maria stayed exactly where she was meant to, only making him crave her more. The feel of her hair wrapped around his hands, the taste of her cunt, and her submission to his orders caused Raphael’s cock cage to strain so tightly he could feel the blood and cum being trapped in the restraints.
Maria’s cries were a constant song as he pulled at her hair and devoured her clit. Body tense and a scream ripping from her throat, Maria came, her wetness filling Raphael’s mouth. He didn’t stop. He licked and licked until Maria convulsed above him, unable to take anymore. He stilled, yet she still didn’t move.
That acquiescence pleased him more than she could ever know.
Raphael’s chest rose and fell in rapid movements. The room grew quiet; the only sounds were the haunting hymns and harshly exhaled breaths.
He needed to get out from underneath her. Needed to stop the constricting of his chest. It hadn’t lessened. The claws were burrowing in deeper, imbedding themselves in his flesh.
He couldn’t stand this new feeling. He wanted it gone from inside him.
He shifted down the bed and brought himself to his knees. His cock was throbbing, the pain almost bringing him to the brink of euphoria. Maria’s head hung low, her body weak from exhaustion; a veil of sweat coated her fair skin, and tendrils of her hair coiled over her red cheeks. Yet Raphael did not let go of her hair. He couldn’t. Not yet. His hands simply refused to let go. The fire inside him flared at the sight of her so ruined by his mouth. His touch.
He sat taller, proud. He had done this. His control, his instruction. Her complete submission to his every word. Seeing her like this, a ravaged mess, made her more beautiful than ever to his eyes.
“Relax,” Raphael said. Maria’s body sagged on command. His
eyes rolled back in ecstasy at seeing her so fucking undone. “Lie back.” Her body was lifeless as her arms and legs sank into the soft mattress. Raphael wasn’t prepared for the effect seeing her so still and spent would have on his already destroyed and fucked-up mind. Every muscle in his body was still as he became transfixed on her heavy eyelids and her flushed pink mouth. He looked down and blinked at the hair in his hands. He had to see it through. Maria had to stay. She was his one. Raphael ignored how his heartbeat sped up seemingly in agreement. He ignored the new tightness that had taken root in his chest with the forbidden touch of her hand on his face.
“Sleep,” he rasped, realizing Maria awaited his order. Maria’s soft lips tilted up with a whisper of a smile. He felt his heart miss a thud at the sight, at the slight ghost of a dimple that caved in the side of her cheek. In seconds her eyes were shut and she fell into a deep slumber.
She was sleeping in his bed. No one ever slept in his bed but him. He should have demanded she go back to her room. He opened his mouth to do so, but no words came.
Kill her. Kill her now.
Raphael fought through the urge to strike, to crawl to Maria’s body and wrap her hair around her neck. To pull it tighter and tighter until her lips parted and she fought for her next breath that would never come.
Raphael saw it before him. He saw it so clearly it was as if it were real. “No,” he growled when Maria moved her leg, hurtling him back to the here and now. “No.” He dropped her hair to the bed. Forcing himself to back away, Raphael stepped onto the plush carpet. His breathing was rough, and it took all his will to leave her in one piece on the bed. Hands fisted, he rushed into the bathroom and yanked down his pants. His back hit the wall as he closed his eyes and tried to calm down. But it didn’t help. He didn’t feel. Didn’t ever want to feel.
Turning, he took his cock in his tight fist. His teeth gritted together and his neck corded, head thrown back as he squeezed. As he gripped his flesh so hard it brought him to his knees. The agony was furious, sending bolts of lightning pain through his body until he bit his tongue so hard he drew blood. But it was heaven, pure utopia as the torture and torment devoured his skin, his muscles, his bones and his blood, a veritable inferno of agonized rapture. Raphael moved his hand up and down his cock, rubbing the engorged flesh. He bit back a roar of release as he came, the pain of his seed spilling from his dick’s silicone prison enough to make him blanch, blood draining from his face. Raphael collapsed forward, his palms slapping flat on the tiled floor. His pants were around his ankles, and his cock throbbed so painfully that he had to clench his jaw just to keep hold of consciousness.
But then he smiled. He smiled widely, a quiet rough laugh escaping his lips. He laughed at the excruciating pain. It was decadent. It was perfection . . . it was all that he was worth. Raphael jerked, the last of his release dripping down his tense thighs.
When he’d gathered his composure, he staggered up off the floor. Kicking his soiled silk pants across the room, Raphael walked slowly to the mirror, hissing in pain with every step he made. The agony in his groin was a million needles stabbing into his skin. Meeting his reflection, Raphael saw his darkened golden eyes and messy dark hair. He rubbed his finger around his lips. He could smell Maria on his body. Taste her. She was everywhere. On his skin, in his mind . . . in his midnight, venomous soul.
He’d kissed the side of her mouth. He never kissed. It repulsed him. “What the fuck are you thinking?” he spat to his reflection, lip curling. “Pull it together. You’ve waited your whole life for her. For this moment.”
Raphael pushed the touch of her hand on his face from his mind, and gave himself over to his sinister, cold heart. His blood cooled, and the same numbness he lived with every day took its hold.
Treading silently on the carpet, he followed a path to the bed. He stopped beside the high mattress of his four-poster bed and watched Maria as she slept. Her sullied white dress was in a state of disarray, breasts and cunt freed and open to his hungry gaze.
Raphael climbed onto the bed and gently crawled to where she lay. Stopping at her side, he leaned over and splayed his hands above her body. As if yearning for his touch, her spirit attracted to his midnight soul, Maria shifted toward him and bared her neck. Raphael, consumed with his fantasy, tipped his head to the ceiling. He wasn’t sure if his little rose had been sent from heaven or hell. To either repay him for what God had let happen all those years ago, or punish him in the most fucked-up way.
Maria exhaled a soft sigh, the warmth of her breath dancing over his skin. Raphael brushed back a piece of hair that was still stuck to her cheek. His hand moved down until his curious fingers arrived at her throat. He stroked along the soft skin, feeling the silkiness under his touch. He felt her pulse under his thumb, steady and strong. Then he threaded his hand around her neck. Maria’s head tilted up in sleep. “Yes, little rose,” Raphael said, his voice a mere whisper. “Such a pretty, pretty neck you offer me.” Raphael lifted his other hand and brought it to her throat. As gentle as a whisper, his fingers circled her fragile bones. Raphael’s nostrils flared at the stunningly beautiful sight. He squeezed slightly, allowing just enough pressure through his fingers to give him a taste of what her total submission would bring, but not enough to leave a mark or rouse Maria from sleep.
She moaned softly, her back arching. Her bared breasts rose with her arch, her nipples hardening. Excitement rushed through his veins. She might not know it yet, but Maria liked his hands around her neck; she craved it. She was born for him, to award him this gift. As if he were the bright sun, his little rose curled into his soothing rays. He allowed Maria to sleep in his bed for a short while, just long enough for her sweet scent to infuse his sheets. And all the time, Raphael kept his hands around her neck, just . . . imagining . . .
“You won’t defeat me, little rose,” he whispered into the stark blackness of night, hungover from the strange sensation her touch brought to his chest. “I will best you, own you. Then I will kill you. Of that, you have my solemn vow.”
Chapter Ten
Three weeks later . . .
Uriel stood and drew back his hood. Raphael rocked on his feet. He didn’t want to be in the Tomb right then. He wanted to be back in his room. What was Maria doing at that moment? Was she obeying his order to wait for him on his bed, kneeling and eyes downcast?
“Raphe.”
Raphael lifted his eyes at the sound of his name. Sela stood before him, regarding him curiously. “You close?” Sela removed his hood and hung it in the closet. Raphael, by rote, did the same. A strange pull in his gut was making him feel off kilter. Maria . . . she was acting strangely today. Her blue eyes were dull, her skin paler than usual. She obeyed his commands, but there were no smiles on her face, no gasps when he sucked her clit. When she came, she barely cried out. Pains shot through Raphael’s chest as he remembered her eyes drifting to the side of the room, instead of being on him. Over the past few weeks, the way she looked at him had changed. She smiled. She smiled, and every time she did, his blood would heat and his lungs would squeeze. He rubbed his sternum. He still hated it. Still didn’t understand it. But he’d gone past the point of no return. When he thought of not brushing her hair, of not licking her tits and clit, that awful ache pulled in his stomach.
Was she hurt? He tried to remember if he had hurt her. His head throbbed. He didn’t know, didn’t think he had. He had watched her, trying make her smile. He made her come, yet the dullness in her eyes remained.
“Raphe!” Sela repeated. “Christ, brother, what the hell is wrong with you?”
“I need to get back to my room.” Raphael brushed past Bara, Uriel, Diel, and Sela. Michael stepped in front of him as he reached the bottom of the staircase. His best friend’s ice-blue stare was locked on him, assessing. Michael hadn’t come to his room once since Maria had been there. Gabriel had told him to stay away and give Raphael the time he needed to make good on his kill.
Michael’s head tilted as he regarded him b
lankly. “She dead yet? It’s been weeks.”
Raphael’s jaw clenched when the tightness in his chest increased. “No. Not yet.” Raphael hadn’t even fucked her yet. She hadn’t touched his cock. He didn’t know why the hell he was holding off.
No, that was a lie. He needed her to want him. Crave him as much as he craved her. She had to walk to him, then into the kill, willingly.
Maria was breaking. Slowly. But today . . . something was wrong today, and it was torturing Raphael’s mind. It pissed him off.
His blood felt like pure gasoline as it pumped through his heart. His bones felt like ton weights with every step. And there was anger. Anger and rage ignited every cell in his body as he thought of Maria’s lack of pleasure. She wasn’t giving herself over to him today. She came, but her eyes weren’t rolling back in her head and her cries weren’t loud and high-pitched.
He needed those screams more than air.
Without another word, Raphael moved around Michael and raced toward his room. When he opened the door, he stood stock-still at the sight that greeted him.
Maria wasn’t on the bed.
Raphael’s eyes roved over the room. The lamp in his closet was on. He walked to the open doors. Maria was on the floor in the corner. Her arms were wrapped around her legs, and her head rested against the wall. Raphael blinked, feet rooted where he stood. Maria looked up, and he saw that tears were streaming down her face. Raphael’s hands balled into fists. He glanced down at his tense fingers. He didn’t understand the fury that was taking hold. The haunted look in her eyes made him want to kill. The confusion that plagued his mind was bringing his anger to the edge. He needed to expel that anger. As Maria’s face crumpled and light sobs left her mouth, an unfamiliar sense of pain stabbed through his stomach. Raphael’s lungs froze; it wasn’t the type of pain he enjoyed. It didn’t make his dick twitch or his eyes roll back in pleasure.
It was an ache he couldn’t shift. He fucking hated it.