O n the subway , half asleep and drowsy from the heat of so many packed bodies all crushed into such a tight space, I look up at the ads on the other side of the train carriage and I see it. The first of Raphael North’s marketing campaign to win my heart. I know the black and white image is a message from him. It has to be. The image is a chess piece, a pawn, toppled on one side, and above it the words, ‘Checkmate. You’ve got me.’ It can only be a message from Raphael. What could it possibly mean to anyone else?

There isn’t just one of the ads behind the sheet plastic on the wall of the train, either. No, that would have been too easy for me to miss. I stand up, peering through the window at the end of the carriage, into the one ahead of mine, and then in the opposite direction, to the one behind, and every single ad spot in all of the carriages has been taken up the image of the toppled chess piece.

I sit back down, feeling numb. How much did it cost him to do this? How many trains did he buy up all the advertising space on? Was it just this one, on this line, because he knows I use it? Something tells me he bought up the advertising space on every single damn train in New York. Something tells me he did so to ensure I’d see this message and have to respond to it. He couldn’t just message me like a normal human being. A text message would have been too easy. I could have easily ignored a text message. How the hell can I possibly ignore this, though? I sit back down, and the elderly woman in the seat next to me shakes her head, tutting under her breath. “Probably for some new weirdo play,” she says. “None of them make sense no more. Give me Phantom Of The Opera any day.”

I laugh nervously, twisting the fringe on my purse over and over again. There is no other text on the black and white image of the pawn. Just the strapline along the top. What does he expect now? What did Raphael want me to do when I saw this? Call him? Get off the train and head straight back to the Osiris Building? Fall at his feet and thank him for being so romantic and making such a grand, expensive gesture?

I take out my cell phone, bringing up his contact information. Slowly, I type out a response to his message, holding my breath as I do so.

M e : I never said I wanted to win you. I said I wanted honesty.

I hit send , then immediately regret it. Thankfully there’s no reception underground, so the message won’t—

Shit .

Of all the days to get one bar of reception on the damn subway, it would be today. The message makes a shoop ing noise, and a small word pops up underneath the text: delivered. Shit. Shit, fuck, shit.

I’m about to toss my phone back into my bag, when I see the speech bubble pop up below; he’s replying. Call me a glutton for punishment, but I can’t seem to look away.

R aph : Come and see me. I’ll explain everything.

M e : It’s a little late for that. I already got the run down from Nate.

I don’t want to get Nate into trouble, but I can’t stand this anymore. I need clarity. I need more than half-truths and uncomfortable silences. I need him to be real with me.

R aph : He told me. I was going to explain, Beth. I just needed more time. I needed to figure out how.

M e : It would have been easy. All you needed to do was speak to me.

R aph : Harder than it sounds

M e : No, it’s not. It’s the easiest thing in the world.

R aph : You think it would be easy to tell someone you care about that you killed someone?

F air enough . He has me there. It’s not as simple as that, though.

M e : It wasn’t your fault, Raph. And we’ve wasted all of this time because you feel guilty for something that had nothing to do with you.

H e doesn’t reply for a long time. I get off the train and start walking, taking the long way in order to avoid any persistent news reporters that might be hovering down the side streets on my normal route from school to home. I let myself into my apartment, and I toss my keys into the bowl beside the door. My phone chimes as I’m taking off my jacket.

R aph : I was driving. I fell asleep. Chloe died. If it’s not my fault, who’s fault is it?

I reply immediately .

M e : Nate said the brake lines on your car were cut.

R aph : He wants to believe that. Please come here. Let me talk to you face-to-face.

M e : Why don’t you come here, Raph? If you want to talk to me that badly, you can make the trip across town. Or are you worried about slumming it over here in Brooklyn?

R aph : I can’t. I can’t leave the penthouse.

M e : Bullshit. Nate said you got 2 years house arrest. That means you were allowed to leave 3 years ago.

R aph : The house arrest ended, yes. But I haven’t left.

E verything around me seems to just…stop . The gentle hum coming from the fridge. The ticking of the small clock on the wall in the hallway. My own heartbeat. I stare at the words, trying to figure out what the hell he means by that.

M e : When was the last time you left your apartment, Raphael?

A gain , it takes him a long time to reply.

And then:

R aph : I haven’t left at all. I haven’t left the penthouse in five years.

* * *

W hen Raphael opens the glass door to the apartment, the dark shadows beneath his eyes have worsened significantly. He gives me a brief, pained smile, then moves to one side so I can move past him. I’ve had plenty of time to compile a list of questions as long as my arm on the drive over here. I allowed him to send Nate for me this time. I needed to speak to him immediately, and the subway would have taken too long.

“You haven’t left this penthouse in five years. You’re trying to tell me that’s why the media doesn’t get shots of you anymore? Why no one’s seen you at meetings? Because you’ve been holed up here for five years?”

Raphael walks past me, down the hall. He heads for the huge lounge. I follow after him. “I go out onto the roof now,” he says quietly. “I didn’t do that before.”

Oh my god. This can’t be…he can’t be for real . “And the anteroom? That’s why you always meet people at that damned door? You rarely ever step foot into the anteroom. Only when Thalia was here, and when we…” I trail off uncomfortably.

Raphael opens up the fridge in the kitchen, taking out a bottle of water. “The ankle bracelet I wore would vibrate if I stepped out into the anteroom. I fucking hated it. It was a constant reminder that I couldn’t leave, so I just…stopped going out there.” He cracks the bottle and drinks; he still hasn’t looked me in the eye yet. He seems physically incapable of doing so.

“Raphael?” I’m standing directly in front of him now, but his gaze is still trained on the bottle of water in his hands. “Raph. You aren’t to blame for what happened to Chloe. If Nate says the brake lines were tampered with, then I believe him over your ridiculous self doubt.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” he says steadily. “I was convicted. I served the time I was sentenced.”

“Just because you completed two years’ worth of house arrest doesn’t mean that it’s over for you,” I say softly. “You obviously still carry the guilt of what you think you did around with you. Why else wouldn’t you have left your apartment in five years? Why else would you not be able to look me in the eye right now?”

He looks up at me slowly. His eyes are stark and sharp, quick and assessing, despite the tired, drawn expression he’s wearing.

“Staying here is safe, Beth. Staying here means no one can fuck with me, and I can’t fuck with them. And, yes. Looking at you is hard for me right now. I should have told you from the beginning about what happened that night. It kills me to think that I’ll see judgment in your eyes when I look at you. Or hatred. Or even pity. It’s just fucking unbearable.”

“I don’t feel any of those things, Raphael. If you see any emotion when you look at me, it’s because I’m hurting for you. You’ve punished yourself needlessly for so long. It’s all been for nothing.”

I haven’t always been the best at recognizing emotion when it comes to this man, but I can plainly see the doubt and pain he’s experiencing right now. It’s pouring off him in tangible waves that turn my stomach. He goes to take another sip from his drink, but I snatch the bottle out of his hands, sending a jet of water up into the air, spilling all over the counter and the floor tiles. “Don’t fucking hide behind a prop, Raph. You invited me here. You wanted to talk to me about this. Where’s the man who owned me when he fucked me? Where’s the fearless, dominant guy who told me he wasn’t afraid of anything?”

“He doesn’t exist, Beth! He’s not fucking real!” Raphael’s words explode out of his mouth, violent and angry. He was so calm a second ago, but now I can see how hard he must have been working to keep his feelings at bay. “It’s this place. I can be whoever I want to be inside the four walls of this apartment. I could be whoever I wanted to be for you! But this is the truth. This ugly, awful, nightmarish truth. I killed someone. She was my girlfriend. She trusted me to take care of her, to get her home safely, and instead she ended up dead. So yeah. This is who I am. I wanted to keep things light with you. I wanted you to come here and play fucking chess with me, and that was going to be it. But I fucked that up, too. I developed feelings for you. I was fucking selfish. I should have told you not to come here anymore, and instead I made things so much worse. I kissed you. I pushed you. I fucked you up against those windows, and the whole world saw. And now you’re life has been turned upside down. You’ve lost your job. You can’t step foot outside your own fucking front door. I should be a better man right now. I should tell you not to come here again. I should tell you to leave and never come back, but I can’t. Now you know the truth, maybe you’ll be stronger than I am. Maybe you’ll walk out, and you won’t come back. I won’t blame you, Beth. I won’t stop you.”

His pain is a tangible thing. I’ve not had much time to think over the information I’ve just been given; I’m suffering because of it, too. It kills me to think of Raph in that situation, knowing the woman he was in love with was dead. Believing it was his fault. Yes, the fact that Chloe died is terrible. Yes, what happened on that was awful. I realized on my way over here, as Nate was babbling incessantly about Raphael’s innocence and generally saintly behavior ever since that day, that I’m not mad at Raphael, though. I do believe Nate. I don’t think Raph was responsible for what happened, and I want to do everything and anything I can to exonerate him. He’s been trapped up here in this penthouse for way too long. I understand how his mind works. He sees his exile at the top of the Osiris Building as justice, and so long as he feels guilt for what happened to Chloe, he’ll never leave. He’ll never be able to forgive himself.

I’ve already forgiven him, though. Raphael has such a firm grip on himself, so much self-control. He’s just not the kind of man who would get behind the wheel of a powerful sports car if he were overly tired or drunk. I have no evidence, no real proof that he is innocent of this crime, but every cell in my body is attesting to the truth of it, declaring it, screaming it out loud.

“You think after all of this, I’m just going to leave and give up?” I ask quietly.

It takes him a long, awful moment to answer. “If that’s what you want.”

“No! Of course it isn’t what I want!”

“Then what do you want?”

The question catches me off guard. I don’t know how to answer at first. Frustration takes a hold of me in the end, forcing a response from my lips. “I just want you! You spent so long convincing me that we’re meant to try and make this thing between us work, that I really started to believe you. I really started to listen. So…I just want you. I want your hands on my body. I want your mouth on my mouth. I want to feel everything you’ve promised me and more, Raphael. Fuck, at this point it’s more than just a desire for me. More than just a want. It’s a fucking need, and I demand for it to be filled.”

Shock. That’s what I see on Raph’s face before he masters his features. He lets out a long, shaky, nervous breath, then nods, smiling ruefully. “You’ve no idea how relieved I am to hear that,” he whispers. He really did think I was going to leave him. He really did think I was going to disappear from his life and never speak to him again. His whole body seems to loosen; it’s as if he was braced for impact a moment ago, and now that the hammer hasn’t fallen, he has no need for the anxiety and adrenaline that was surging through his veins.

Slowly, he slides his hand into his pocket and takes something out of it. Something small and shiny. Gold. Metal. Holding the object up to the light, Raphael shows me what he’s holding between his fingers. It’s a key, attached to a length of silken ribbon, green and vibrant, like his eyes.

“There’s a room in my home you haven’t been inside, Beth. A secret place I haven’t shared with you yet. If you’re sure for some reason that being with me, despite all of this, is something you want, then I’d like to show you now.”

I eye the key dubiously. “What’s inside the room?”

Raphael shrugs. “Nothing out of the ordinary. A bed. A chest of drawers. A lamp. A desk. A mirror. It’s where I sleep.”

Raphael wants to show me his bedroom. He wants to share it with me. Raphael is such a painfully private person; it must cost him a great deal to extend this offer to me. “Yes,” I whisper. “I want to see it.”

He nods. His eyes shine brightly, filled with emotion. “The door is locked. It’s always locked, whether I’m inside the room or not. I want it to be forever open to you, though. Take this. Use it whenever you like.” He holds out his hand, the length of green ribbon looped around the end of his index finger, the brassy, old fashioned key spinning on the end of it. I take it from him.

“I’d like to see it now,” I tell him.

Raphael doesn’t argue. He turns and walks silently down the hallway, up the stairs at the end, and then continues along the upper corridor. He halts outside the very last door on the right hand side. Stepping out of the way, he gestures for me to open it with the key he’s just given to me. We enter inside together. The space is dark and filled with a textured kind of silence that feels like a living, breathing thing. It occupies the room from corner to corner, floor to ceiling, and I feel like I’m wading through it as I walk into the room. A light switch. I need a light switch. It takes me a second to find it, mainly because Raphael doesn’t appear inclined to point it out. When I locate the switch, a warm, subtle glow blossoms from a hidden light fitting that runs around the perimeter of the room, set back under a lip in the ceiling. Just as Raphael said, the space is nothing out of the ordinary. A huge bed monopolises the room. A dark, almost black wooden headboard juts up toward the ceiling, and a slate grey, heavy, expensive looking bedspread accents the much lighter ash grey of the walls. The desk to the right of the room, underneath the window, is free of clutter. The only thing that rests on it is a globe—black, with the countries, longitude and latitude lines marked out in burnished gold.

The floor is marble again, black this time, shot through with white and hints of silver, and a cream, thick-piled, luxurious rug lays beneath the bed. The kind of rug you immediately want to walk on barefoot, to dig your toes into. There are no books on either of the simple nightstands. There is no artwork on the walls. Blinds are drawn at the windows, effectively keeping the room in utter darkness. It was pitch black in here before I turned the lights on; I get the feeling Raphael likes it this way most of the time. This room serves one purpose and one purpose only: it’s a place for Raphael to sleep. There are no distractions, nothing to catch at his attention and prevent rest. No television, no radio, no literature or bright colors. It’s a cool and very calming environment. One I can imagine falling in love with, given the chance.

Walking over to the chest of drawers on the opposite side of the room, I run my hands over the beautiful, sleek mango wood. My fingertips rest on the handle of the top drawer.

“Go on. Open it.”

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t going to pry. I was just admiring the—”

“Open the drawer, Beth. I want you to see what’s inside.”

I stand, tense, not knowing how to proceed. Raphael tuts softly from the doorway. “Do it, Beth. It’s important.”

Slowly, I close my grip around the black wrought iron handle, and I open the drawer.

I stop breathing.

Handcuffs.

A braided black whip with leather fringe, knotted at each of its ends.

A ball gag.

A black velvet mask.

Silver knuckle-dusters.

A solid black gun.

A length of gold chain.

A flat-ended black leather paddle.

An array of vibrators and dildos.

An elaborate cock ring, attached to a length of beads.

I take a step away from the drawer, my pulse thrumming all over my body. “This is all for me,” I state.

“It is.” Raphael’s moved, standing close behind me now. “I have a…strange appetite. “There are things I can control in my world, Beth. And there are things that I can’t.” He sighs under his breath. “Being in control while I’m fucking is very important to me. I like to use toys. I like to use restraints. I like to push beyond the boundaries or normality and comfort.” Slowly, he runs his finger down the back of my neck. There’s something possessive in the way he traces his fingertips up and down my skin, something exploratory and dark. It frightens and excites me in equal parts. I close my eyes, stilling myself, trying to calm my uneven breathing. “I want to experience all of that with you, Beth.”

Raphael’s hand cups the back of my neck, then, holding it, as if he might tighten his hold at any moment, forcing me to bend to his will. “I have a question for you,” he murmurs. “If your answer is yes, then we can try this. We can see how we both fair, and proceed with caution from there. Are you prepared to answer honestly?”

“Yes. I am. I will.”

“Good.” He steps closer to me. The warmth of his body heats my back, and my skin prickles. It’s as if a static charge runs between us, and I can feel how close he is, despite the fact that, save for his hand on my neck, we’re not touching each other at all. “I need complete control. I need you compliant and submissive. Do you know what that means? Have you had experience with that before?”

“I—I haven’t had experience, no. I know what it means, though. You’re dominant. You’re in charge during sex.”

“Yes. There’s more to it than that, though.” His breath skates across my skin, and my knees weaken, threatening to fold out from underneath me. He is strong. He is powerful. He is alpha. Raphael North is sex personified. “You have to surrender all free will. All desire to defy me. All desire to protest or push back. You have to release yourself to me on every level, not just physically. I need to own your mind, too. I need to know, when I put my hands on you and my cock inside you, that you’re not going to rebel against me in any way.”

“I—I can…” I trail off as Raphael’s lips press against the back of my neck. My eyes are still closed, but now they’re rolling back into my head as he peppers feather-light kisses all over my skin.

“If this is what you want, you’re going to have to do a better job of convincing me, I’m afraid,” Raph replies.

I can’t believe this is happening. The dark, painful thing I’ve just learned about Raphael’s past should have killed any desire I had to have sex with him. So should the intense, intrusive attention we’ve been receiving from the New York press. But still… when he touches me, when I feel his hands on my skin, when I feel his breath skating across my body, all I can do is want him. I’ve been completely and utterly mentally consumed by him, I haven’t been able to think about my schoolwork. I haven’t been able to study. I’ve barely even remembered to eat most days. Raphael’s been prowling through my thoughts and my dreams, a constant, demanding presence, those green eyes of his watching over me at all times. I know I should leave this place immediately and head straight back to my apartment. I shouldn’t even give myself the chance to think about this. If I do, I’ll find some way to justify it. To convince myself that handing over my free will to this man is a clever, intelligent thing to do.

I open my mouth to tell him that I need to excuse myself, that I need to leave, but the words that come out of my mouth are precisely the opposite. “What do you want me to do?”

He purrs, his voice gravel and sand on stone, deep and thrilling. “The perfect question to ask. Maybe this won’t be so hard for you, after all.”

Raphael just told me I was fierce before. Little does he know, my determination surpasses mere ferocity. I’m thunder and lightning. I am volcanic. I can be a force of nature when I feel like I’m being oppressed or held back in some way. Being submissive to Raphael’s dominance goes against the grain with me for sure, but I can do it. I can obey him in every way if it means I will feel his mouth on my skin, and his hands on my body. “I might surprise you,” I say quietly.

“You already have. Take off your dress, Beth. Slowly.”

I don’t hesitate. I reach behind my head and unfasten the clasp there. I shrug out of the material, allowing it to slip down, over my body, and then I’m standing in front of him in my underwear with the dress gathered in a pool of cloth at my feet. Raphael walks slowly around me, assessing my near nakedness, his eyes quick and unreadable as he takes me in. He starts at my feet and works his way up; I blush as his eyes linger on my breasts. He allows his expression to slip just a little. Enough to let me know he’s affected by me, despite the air of indifference he’s channelling. A thrill of pride rushes through me, amplified by the low growl that comes out of Raph.

“Do you know how fucking magnificent your body is, Beth?” His eyes are full of fire as he feasts upon me, head to toe. “Every time I see you, the curve of your tits makes my dick get hard. The swell of your ass beneath your jeans makes me want to rip them from your body, so I can bend you over and slam myself into you. If you can do all of that to me when you’re fully dressed, imagine what the fuck you’re doing to me right now. My god, you’re so fucking beautiful.”

My cheeks flush, blood surging into my cheeks, no doubt staining them red. I’ve never needed a man’s approval before, never really cared what any of them thought, but I find that it matters with Raphael. I care what he thinks, and to know that he’s this turned on by me… it makes me feel incredible. I look away, trying to hide my face, but Raph steps in and places his hand under my chin, forcing me to make eye contact with him.

“Get on the bed, Beth. Open your legs for me, as wide as they’ll go.”

Heat swirls in my chest, cycling down, between my legs. I’m already turned on. Already wet. If I spread my legs for him, he’s going to be able to see just how wet I am. Embarrassment flares inside me, but I ignore it. This is a test, after all. If I balk or shrink away from any of the things Raphael asks of me, I’ll only be demonstrating that I’m not cut out for a physical relationship with him. The promise of his hands on my skin, his hot mouth working over my flesh, is enough to make me tamp down the urge to run from the room. Silently, almost defiantly, I walk over to the bed. I climb up onto the duvet, then turn and lie on my back, hitching my legs up so that they’re bent. I allow my knees to fall out to either side, exposing my pussy to him. Raph doesn’t pass comment until he’s standing at the end of the bed. He allows his gaze to settle between my legs, and I feel it: his hunger. His need for me. I haven’t allowed myself to believe the sidelong glances and the prolonged eye contact has been anything other than coincidence with Raph, but now I know the truth. He wants me. He wants to fuck me. He wants to ruin me for all other men, and I get the feeling he’s about to do just that.

“Hold your hands over your head,” he commands.

I do it quickly. I don’t want him to think I’m hesitating. Raph picks something out of the drawer filled with toys and comes over to the bed. He holds up the item for me to see: a pair of shining, silver handcuffs. “You want out at any point, Beth, say the word and I’ll release you.”

“What word?”

A slow, sinful smile spreads across his face. “Peter Piper. You’re never going to say that accidentally, now, are you?”

“No, I won’t.”

“Good.” He fastens the cuffs around my wrists, then hooks a jump ring in the center of the chain between the cuffs over small hook attached to the headboard. I can’t squeeze my hands out of the cuffs. I can’t unhook myself. Can’t escape. Weeks ago, trapped in this position, I would have freaked the fuck out. My mind would have transported me back to the barn, to my mother being pinned down and assaulted. I’m hardly free from that memory now, but it doesn’t fill me with fear. It doesn’t make me want to tear myself free and run, because this is different. So incomprehensibly different, that I’m filled with nothing but an intense spark of desire.

“Now we have that out of the way, I’d appreciate it if you could address me as Sir,” Raphael informs me. It’s not necessary for him to demand this, but I understand the appeal. He’s the head of a multi-billion-dollar company. People obey him at every turn, every day. He’s used to being referred to with reverence and respect, so why wouldn’t he expect me to do the same in this situation? I nod my head slowly.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good girl, Beth. Good girl. You’ve made me so unbelievably hard already. Would you like to see?”

My body reacts, sending another wave of expectation skittering and bouncing around inside me. “Yes. I’d…like to.” It feels slightly shameful to admit to something like this, but I don’t care anymore. It doesn’t matter if he knows how I feel about him. It’s fucking obvious.

Raph removes his clothes. He slowly unbuttons his shirt, sliding the material from his arms and folding it over the back of the chair by the desk. His pants are next. I find myself staring at the hard, cut muscle that forms his stomach and his chest. He must spend hours working out. Hours . The results are quite remarkable. Raphael hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his Calvin Klein boxers and inches them down over his hips. “A quick fuck up against a window is one thing, Beth, but I’m not for the faint of heart. Are you sure you want this? Are you sure you want me ?”

This is a loaded question. He’s giving me yet another out. Giving me the opportunity to back out of this now, before I get emotionally or physically hurt and further. “I’m sure. I want you,” I whisper. “I want all of you. Every part.”

Raph pauses a second, a hint of surprise on his face. I don’t think he was expecting me to sound so sure. My voice doesn’t waiver, though. There’s nothing but confidence and excitement in my tone. “All right, then,” he answers. He pushes his boxers down his muscular thighs, and they fall to the floor. My eyes travel to his cock without being bidden. There’s no avoiding the fact that he intrigues me. I’m beyond intrigued, though. There isn’t a word in the English language to describe how badly this man turns me on.

He’s perfect. Nine inches. Clean and cut. Thick and erect. He has the kind of cock I want to tease with my tongue. The kind of cock I want to slather with lube and just stroke up and down in both my hands. Damn, that would feel so good.

“I can see how pleased you are right now,” Raph breathes. “You’re going to be even more pleased when I start fucking you with this thing. I know how to fuck with it. I know how to make a woman come with it. I know how to use it to make you feel good. I know how to be a dirty boy with it. When you leave this apartment, you’re not going to be able to walk properly.” He takes hold of his erect dick and slowly runs his hand up and down it, his teeth slightly bared. He’s a force of nature like this, so raw and savage. He’s like no man I’ve ever seen before.

My pussy tightens at the thought of him slowly inching himself inside me. This is so different from our crazed encounter in the anteroom. This is planned and intentional. This is going to be so much more . I’m losing all self control as he stalks toward the bed, a look of dark intent in his eyes. “I haven’t bound your feet, but I want you to stay very still, Beth. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes.”

“If you let me, I’m going to teach you. To train you. I’m going to give you the skills you’ll need to navigate a sex life with me, and it will make you strong. You’ll be unstoppable. You’ll be able to make me come in a heartbeat, but more importantly…you’ll be able to drag it out. You’ll be perfectly capable of teasing me in the same way I’m about to tease you. The longer I hold back, the harder my dick gets, Beth. You’re gonna like it hard, I can tell.”

A statement like that, coming from someone else, would probably make me feel dirty. I only feel empowered, though. I am so turned on, it’s a miracle I’m not shamelessly begging and pleading with him to fuck me. There’s still time yet. He’s not going to end this quickly. He’s going to stretch it out until I’m climbing the walls.

When Raphael touches my body for the first time, it’s between my legs. He climbs up so that he’s kneeling on the edge of the bed, between my legs, and he stares down at my pussy with a kind of ravenous appetite that sends nervous chills dancing over my skin. He moves with the utmost care as he places his hand over me, cupping my pussy, applying a dizzying, satisfying pressure than makes me angle my hips upward, grinding myself into his hand.

“So greedy already,” he muses. “Your pussy’s so warm. Wet. I already know it’s going to taste amazing on my tongue.” Slowly, he draws his hand back, using his fingertips to tease small circles against my clit. Somehow he knows how to touch me. How my body will respond to him if he touches me in a certain way. It’s not long before he has me panting, rocking against his hand. This is not me. This is not how I normally behave. There’s something about Raphael North that makes me step outside of my own body, though. It doesn’t matter who I become when I’m with him. All I know is that I like the transformation.

Raphael growls at the back of his throat as he works me into a fever. The look on his face, so animalistic and determined, makes me want to scream. I manage to keep my cries contained for the most part, but every so often I can’t help it; I whimper and moan, my head tipped back, my spine arching away from the bed below me. Raphael doesn’t look away for a second. He tells me when I can breathe. He tells me when I can writhe. He tells me when to be still, and he tells me when I can come.

When he prowls up the length of my body and takes my nipple into his mouth, it feels like fireworks are going off inside my head. And when he roughly slams himself into me, thrusting, rocking his hips against me without mercy, the cries I’ve been fighting to bite back are ripped from my throat. I scream his name. I pant, and I struggle for every lungful of oxygen I pull into my body. Raphael fucks me until I’m straining at my handcuffs, battling against them, trying to free myself. Not because I’m terrified and I feel threatened by his dominance, but because I want to touch him. I want to feel the flat, hard, packed planes of his muscle underneath my palms as I guide him into me over and over again. I am locked into position, and I’m unable to move, though. Raphael closes his hands around my throat as he slams himself into me. His grip is loose, but a jolt of panic surges through me all the same. How much pressure would he need to apply to snap my neck right now? Cut off my air supply altogether? The prospect of being choked has never excited me before, but the way Raphael’s fingers caress the sides of my neck as he tightens and releases his hold has me flooded with need. The way he’s pinning me down with those pale green eyes of his, spearing me to the bed, has me wanting him to squeeze a little tighter. He must know how frantic I’m becoming; Raph chuckles breathlessly as he fucks me even harder.

“You can come now, Beth. You have my permission. Soak my cock with your cum. Make me drip with it. I’ll come for you, too. I promise.”

It’s like a switch being flicked somewhere inside my head. I’ve been holding back my orgasm ever since he pushed himself inside me, but the moment he says those words to me, it’s game over. I can’t hold it back any longer. I have to do it. I have to come. Pleasure rips through me like a tsunami, dragging me under, stealing my words, my breath, my ability to even think straight.

“Oh, shit! Raph… Oh god !”

The moment I tumble over the cliff, head first into my climax, must be all too visible to Raph. He takes hold of me by the hips, and he fucks me like a damn freight train. Seconds after I come, he pulls out of me, palming his cock, taking hold of it and working his hand furiously up and down the length of it. He explodes, his cum spurting up my body, landing on my stomach and my chest, and I lay as still as possible, reeling from the act. So hot. So, so fucking hot. Raphael’s chest is heaving. He reaches down, rubbing his fingers into the mess he’s made on my skin.

“Open your mouth,” he commands. I do it, and he slides the very tips of his fingers past my lips, touching them to my tongue. “Lick them clean,” he tells me. “Suck them. Lick my cum from them.”

“Yes, sir.” I enjoy the task way too much. When his fingers are clean, Raphael runs them back through his cum, but he doesn’t put them back in my mouth. He takes the slick fluid he’s collected on his hand, and he rubs it firmly between my legs. He pushes it inside me, into my pussy. He rubs it over my ass. He spends the next few minutes meticulously gathering up his cum from my belly and my breasts, then rubbing my clit with it and inserting it into my pussy. When he’s finished, he holds himself over my body, his face only a few inches away from mine. God, he is so beautiful. He’s like no other man I’ve ever laid eyes on before.

“You’re mine now,” he tells me, biting down on his lower lip. “I’m claiming you. No one else may touch you, look at you…even flirt with you without my prior consent. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Excellent.” Raphael appears to be vibrating with satisfaction as he un-cuffs me. “You realize I went easy on you, don’t you?” he says softly. “You realize, the next time I am inside you, things will be very different.”

“Yes, Sir.”

He strokes my hair, tucking a strand back, away from my face. “You can take it, Beth. I know you can. I hope you’ll be ready. I’m going to make you fucking weep with ecstasy. I’m going to show you how I can make your body sing.”

Downstairs, when I’m fully dressed, I feel like I’m still vibrating with the power of the orgasm he just gave me. My head is clouded with it. Not clouded enough to keep me from speaking my mind as he kisses me goodbye, though.

“You’re not a bad person, Raphael. You really didn’t do anything wrong. Chloe—”

He cuts me off, placing a finger over my mouth. “No more. Please. I’m not the victim here, Beth. I’ve only lost the past five years. Chloe lost her life. That’s all there is to it.”

“Raphael. I just don’t think Chloe would—”

“Enough! I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear her name on your lips. If we’re going to be together, we’re never going to talk about this again, okay? I can’t do it. I fucking won’t do it.”

Wh…what the hell ? A horrible sinking feeling pulls at my stomach. I don’t want to fight with him. I don’t want there to be any more friction between us than there needs to be. But…god damn it, I just can’t hold my tongue. “You still love her, don’t you? You’re always going to love her. I’m going to be competing with a ghost every second of every day I spend with you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Beth.”

“How is that ridiculous? You’d rather accept you’re guilty of a crime you didn’t commit than face the past head on and let this go. That speaks volumes to me.”

“Well, it shouldn’t. It shouldn’t say a damn thing to you, Beth.” It’s common knowledge that the color red means danger. Right now, though, the color green is fucking terrifying. Raphael’s eyes flash and glimmer with anger; I’ve never seen him look so angry. The muscles in his jaw pop and strain and he grinds his teeth together.

“Why not?” I whisper. I should keep my damn mouth shut, but I won’t be his doormat. I won’t be told what observations I can and can’t make, especially when they affect me.

Raphael closes his eyes for a second, breathing hard down his nose. The veins in his arms stand proud beneath his skin, his hands clenched into tight fists. I can see the resolution on his face when he opens his eyes. “Because, Beth. It’s none of your business. None of this is any of your fucking business.”

I turn and I flee the penthouse, and Raphael doesn’t call out after me. He doesn’t try and stop me from leaving. I don’t take a breath until the elevator doors have rolled closed. Once I’m alone, encapsulated inside the little silver box, hurtling down toward the ground, I let out a loud sob, pressing the back of my hand to my mouth. I allow myself to cry until the elevator slows and the doors roll open again.

After everything we just went through…

After the amazing sex we just had…

After convincing me that our lives are already so intertwined…

How could he say something like that to me?

It’s amazing how quickly a moment can change for the worse.