M y hands are bound behind my back. A clock is marking the passing seconds somewhere—a soft, subtle barely-there tick, tick, tick that catches and snags at my attention. Strange that there would be an analogue clock in this apartment, so full of expensive, cutting edge technology. It seems out of place. It occurs to me that Raphael probably put it here, in this room, on purpose. Everything he says and does has a specific purpose, after all. Why should it be surprising that the objects he’s chosen to decorate this very private, very personal room be any different? He wants me to know how long he’s kept me here, waiting for him. He wants my heart to stumble every time I hear the second hand move forward around that clock’s face. He wants my anticipation levels to build and build, until I can barely contain myself anymore. He’s too damn smart for his own good.

I can’t feel my fingers anymore. I flex my hands against my restraints, trying to encourage blood flow, but it doesn’t help. Pins and needles spiral up my arms, making them throb painfully. A cool breeze rushes through the room, skating across my bare skin—my neck, my shoulders, across my bare breasts. My nipples peak, tightening, and my breath catches in my throat. The door has just opened and closed. Someone has entered the room. It can only be him, of course—the man who blindfolded me and stripped me of my clothes earlier. Raphael North hovers inside the small, darkened room somewhere, silent and assessing. I was feeling relatively confident up until the moment I felt the air pressure in the room shift. Now I don’t know what I’m feeling. Anxious? Intimidated? Excited? Turned on? There are too many thoughts colliding in my mind to be able to pick one emotion and stick with it. I am vulnerable, naked, and on display for him to enjoy, and there’s nothing I can do about it. A few weeks ago, if I’d been told I would be strapped into a chair, naked, bound and blindfolded, my legs spread wide open, cuffed to stirrups at my ankles, I would have freaked out. The events of the past would have crippled me with fear. I came here today of my own free will, though. I voluntarily climbed into this chair and allowed my legs to be pushed apart as wide as they would go. I allowed it, and…I enjoyed it.

A bone-deep shiver races through me, penetrating me down to my core. My throat is dry, my tongue like sandpaper against the roof of my mouth. Since I can’t see anything, my nerves have heightened every other sense I possess, making the slight smell of citrus and the ocean overwhelming. My body is on fire, my nerve endings hyper-stimulated and sending waves of heat dancing across my bare skin. Every part of me feels so good. Impossibly good. I’ve never felt like this in my entire freaking life. I am not in control of this situation. Not even close to in control. I’ve handed over the reins to Raphael, and he took them gladly, smiling in the most savage way imaginable as he lowered the length of silken black material down over my eyes. Now, I’m trying to guess where he is in the room, so I can prepare myself for what’s to come.

There is nothing I can do to prepare, though. I already know that. I could have spent years and years mentally steeling myself for this moment, and still I wouldn’t be ready. This man is heaven and hell wrapped in a Versace suit. He’s fire and ice. He’s pure alpha, and I am his plaything. There’s no denying it. There’s no running from it.

I jump when something makes contact with my shoulder—a feather light touch that makes me instantly break out in goose bumps. I suck in a deep breath, biting down on my tongue. He didn’t tell me not to talk, but speaking at this moment somehow feels like I’m breaking some sort of covenant between us. Raphael moves silently, stealthy as a cat. I’ve thought it every time I’ve laid eyes on him; he moves with the predatory grace of a panther, quick and deadly. With my vision now denied to me, I’m left imagining the subtle slope of his shoulders as he stalks around me. The way his shirt pulls taut as the muscles in his back shift and flex. My mind easily conjures up the expression on his face, though. I know the amused, sharp edged lust he wears in those brilliant green eyes of his. I memorized the gentle uplift at the right hand corner of his mouth that signals he is pleased a long time ago. The lone dimple in his right cheek, deep and pronounced, would make another man look cute, and yet it makes Raphael North seem seductive. It only appears when he’s smirking extraordinarily hard, after all, and that usually only happens when he’s thinking about all the bad things he wants to do to me.

“Elizabeth .” My name is a whisper. A rustling of raw silk. I shiver at the sound of it on Raphael’s lips. My back arches a little, my body already primed for his touch. Desperate for it. My head swims as he makes contact between my shoulder blades, trailing something soft and delicate up the back of my neck. “You’re a little red in the face, Ms. Dreymon. You appear to be having a little trouble breathing.”

I part my lips, trying to find my voice, but suddenly there’s a hand around my throat, tilting my head back. The movement surprises me, has me gasping out loud. Raphael’s rough stubble grazes my jaw, and I can’t stop the moan that slips past my lips. He knows. He knows all too well how much I enjoy the feel of his six o’clock shadow on my skin. He knows it turns me on so much that it makes me dizzy. So much that it makes me forget my own name. His breath is hot against my skin as he whispers into my ear, his fingertips gently pressing into my windpipe. “You’re magnificent,” he tells me. “Your body is a fucking work of art. I can see all of you like this. The curve of your breasts. The swell of your ass. The perfect porcelain of your skin. The sweet, wet, slick pink between your legs. Do you like being on display for me, my little butterfly?”

I can’t speak. I can only nod, my breath coming out in short, sharp pants. His scent fills my head—the most masculine, sexual smell imaginable. Even when we’re not fucking, all I need is to smell him and I’m ready to rip my own damn clothes off. My body recognizes his as its perfect match. His pheromones are a biological key that instantly have me opening to him in every way possible.

“I’m going to use you, Beth,” he whispers. “I’m going to have my fill of you. I’m going to take you every way I see fit. You’re mine when you’re in this chair. Nod if you understand.”

I nod again, a small movement that has Raphael purring into my ear. “Your breasts are fucking incredible. Your nipples are so tight, butterfly. Are they sensitive right now? Do you want them in my mouth? Do you want me licking at them with my tongue?”

“Yes. God, yes.”

His hand tightens a little further around my throat. “You’re going to have to be patient, little one. You’re going to have to wait until I decide you deserve it.”

This is torture. Pure torture. The sweetest, headiest, most sensual torture I’ve ever endured. I’m not even sure I can endure it. A wave of expectancy relays around my body as I imagine what it will feel like to have him licking and sucking at my breasts. How long am I going to have to wait? What kind of monster will he have turned me into by the time he actually gives me what I need?

I’m the worst kind of addict when it comes to this man. I don’t want his mouth on me. His hands on my skin. His hard cock inside me. I fucking need it more than words can say. Raphael releases his hold on my neck, and I know that he’s stepped away from the chair. I can feel the lack of his presence like an ice-cold brand, burning inside me. There’s a sound: material rasping against material. My heart begins to hammer in my chest. What does he have? What the hell is he going to do?

“Since you’re in no position to disobey me,” he says. “How about we play a little game instead? Would you like that?”

“What kind of game?” I sound like I’ve just been running, my breath catching with every word. There’s a long pause. Raphael moves around me. I can feel him so close, and then moving away, over and over again. It’s all I can do not to pull against my restraints.

Eventually, Raphael says, “The kind of game that will have you screaming my name. The kind where I touch you with my hands, or my tongue, or my cock, and I almost make you come. And then…I stop. Do you think you can handle that?”

“How long do you stop for?”

“Until I see fit. Maybe I’ll make you wait hours. Maybe I won’t allow you to come at all.” His voice is laced with amusement. He’s loving this already, I can tell. This chair that he had made especially for me was also for him, too. I am prone, at his mercy, every private, secret part of me exposed, on show for his pleasure. His eyes are probing me, studying me, on my breasts, my pussy, my ass… I can practically feel the pressure of his gaze as he circles me like a shark circling its prey. “If I do decide to let you come, I’m going to have the pleasure of watching it happen, up close and personal,” he says, as if reading my mind. “Where do you want to come, little one? All over my fingers, my tongue, or all over my dick?”

This is a trick question. Whichever answer I give, Raphael will undoubtedly make sure it doesn’t happen, just to tease me further. Lucky for me, I don’t care where I come, so long as my body is in contact with his. He needs an answer, though. If I don’t give him one, there will be consequences. “Your fingers,” I gasp, reflexively rocking my hips. “I want to come all over your fingers.”

“Hmm. And where…” Raphael trails something across the top of my right thigh, making me squirm. “…do I get to come?” he finishes. “Would you like it in your mouth? All over your tits?” I shiver at the image that develops in my head: Raphael, holding his dick, his hand rhythmically pumping up and down his solid flesh, the end of his cock slick and wet, the tendons in his arms and his neck straining, corded beneath his flesh. “Or perhaps in your pussy? Or…your ass?”

My hips jerk forward again, and Raphael laughs softly under his breath. “You need me pretty bad, don’t you, little one?”

“Yes, I need you. Please, Raphael. Please .”

“Since you asked so nicely…” Raphael’s fingers trail lazily across my back, over my shoulder, around and over my collarbone. He pauses there for a second, and my entire body begins to vibrate with desire. He’s teasing me. Testing me. This is a test I am determined to pass. I don’t react, don’t beg, even though in my mind I’m screaming for him to take me. Raphael grunts—a pleased sound—and his fingers trail down, over the rise and fall of my breasts, skirting carefully around my nipple, then down, down, over the flat of my stomach, until his fingers are resting just above my pussy.

“Do you think I should reward you for being so good?” he says softly. He leans down, so that his mouth is almost touching my skin, hovering over the shell of my ear; his close proximity is enough to make my pulse race away from me, out of control.

“Yes. God, please, yes.”

“Mmm…” I can feel his eyes on me again, searing into my skin, devouring me, and the muscles in my legs tense—an automatic, in-built reaction. The old me wants to hide herself. To protect her vulnerability. To close her legs against the intense scrutiny of this remarkable man. Raphael tuts. He runs his hand up the inside of my thigh, his fingers so close to touching my pussy, and then he stops. “If only you could see what I see right now,” he muses. “You’d realize how beautiful you are. You wouldn’t be trying to hide yourself from me. You’d be opening up wider, proud of your own beauty. You are so wet right now, Beth. Your body is like ripe fruit, juicy, and sweet, ready to be eaten. And, oh, how I’d like to fucking eat it right now.”

Raphael turns me on like no one else. I’ve never felt so filled with need before. And even though my legs are spread wide, I know he’s telling the truth. I’m so excited by him that my body has kicked into overdrive, working at two hundred percent, ready and willing to accept any attention he might lavish upon me. I inhale deeply, and the sweet smell of sex and desire fills my nose. It’s shocking to realize that I can smell my own body’s reaction to Raphael. He’s spoken of it many times before. With anyone else, this would feel shameful. Embarrassing. Humiliating. I know how much he likes it, though, so it brings me nothing but pleasure now.

Raphael finally gives me what I need. He dips his fingers lower, lightly teasing them over my clit, and my whole body bucks in answer to his soft touch. “Good girl,” he says quietly. “Good girl. You’re such a good girl. You’re making me very happy right now.”

I’m not doing anything per se, besides allowing him to look at and touch wherever he desires. I know how his mind works, though. I am a spectacle. A view to be enjoyed. He called me his little butterfly just now, and in a way I really am. I feel like an exotic creature, pinned into place and kept behind glass for him to hang on a wall and enjoy whenever he feels like it. He loves to observe his treasures at his leisure, and I am basically giving him free rein to do that right now. “Good,” I pant. “I want to make you happy. I want to be a good girl for you.”

“If you really want to be a good girl for me, Beth, you can do something for me. You can open your mouth for me and tip your head back. All the way back.”

I don’t even give it a second thought. I am so eager to please him that I think he could ask anything of me right now and I would do it. I hear the sound of more material being removed or adjusted, I can’t tell which, and then there is a loop around my neck, and Raphael is tightening it. “Don’t worry, little one. Don’t worry. I have you. You’re safe here. Do you trust me?”

Until recently, I might not have said yes to that question. Everything has changed now, though. I don’t even think I’m the same human being anymore. I’m barely even human at all. I’ve transformed into this primal creature that thinks in terms of food for energy, for fuel, to keep me from passing out in the bedroom. Sleep, so I can rest and recuperate, so that I can be ready for the next time Raph wants me. I trust him implicitly, no matter what.

“Yes,” I tell him. “I trust you, I swear.”

“Good.” The loop around my neck is pulled tight, and a flash of panic explodes in my head. It’s a natural response; anyone in their right mind would freak out to feel a length of material fastening around their throats. The panic dies almost immediately, though. He won’t hurt me. He’ll never hurt me. I believe that to my very core.

Raphael’s mouth is on mine, then, his lips crushing up against mine, firm and insistent. His kiss is a claim, a brand, filled with fire and need. His tongue sweeps inside my mouth, probing and exploring, tasting me, and I open myself to him, relishing the feel of his breath on my face. There’s a connection between us when he kisses me like this. Powerful. We’re two halves of a complex, confusing puzzle, snapping into place. Pieces that, when held up to the light and studied, appear as if they’d never fit together. But we do.

My hands close into fists behind my back, digging my fingernails into my palms. I can feel the breaking point of my skin, and I know that if I press just a little harder, I’ll be bleeding.

Raphael bites at my bottom lip, tugging at my mouth. He pulls back when I gasp, laughing under his breath again. “You belong to me,” he pants. “You’re my possession. If I tell you to open your mouth, you do it. If I tell you to suck, you do it. If I tell you to lick, you do it. If I tell you to open your legs for me, you do it. Do you understand?”

“Yes. I…I under…stand.”

“So open your mouth for me, Beth. Do it now. I’m gonna push myself to the back of your throat.”

Just because I haven’t had a boyfriend for years, doesn’t mean I’ve had no sex drive. I’ve watched porn from time to time. I’ve always turned the sound down, though, unable to get past the cheesy lines that come out of the actors’ mouths. The things they would say to one another in the heat of fucking like animals would always throw me. I’d find myself cringing instead of turned on. When Raphael says this to me now, though, a wave of adrenaline and excitement crashes into me. I obey him without question. Raphael must already have removed his pants. He cups the back of my neck with his hand, holding me in place, and then the tip of his cock is rubbing against my lips, hard and warm. I can taste him. When I’ve given people head before, the taste of semen has been something I’ve avoided at all costs. Salty. Musky. Enough to almost put me off going down on a guy altogether. Raphael’s cum doesn’t taste of anything, though. He smells clean, like soap and laundry detergent. As I take him into my mouth, I can feel how insanely wet I am between my legs. I’m growing more and more turned on by the second.

Raphael is true to his word. He slowly pushes himself into my mouth, still holding my head in place, and he doesn’t stop until I whimper. He’s not all the way inside—he’s way too big for me to be able to take the whole thing—but the head of his erection is at the back of my throat. I close my lips around him and suck gently, and Raphael groans, a deep, low, need-filled sound that makes my head swim. His hands tangle in my hair as he slides himself back, withdrawing, giving me a second to breathe. “Your lips look amazing wrapped around my dick, Beth,” he hisses. “Use your tongue. Massage me. Make me wet with your mouth.”

These commands are non-negotiable. I do as he tells me to, working my tongue over him, swirling it around his hard flesh, teasing and flicking the tip of his cock inside my mouth. Raphael makes a satisfied, urgent sound as I swallow, sucking harder. “Yes, little butterfly. Just like that. You’re amazing. So fucking beautiful,” he whispers. “You suck me so perfectly.” He thrusts himself back into my mouth, and I draw a deep breath in through my nose. I use my tongue to lick and lave at him, to further tease him, and Raphael groans again. The sound of his pleasure is like pouring gasoline on an open flame. I work him into a frenzy, until I can feel him growing harder and harder in my mouth. If I keep going right now, he’s going to come. I know it, and so does Raphael. He pulls out of my mouth, a frustrated growl rumbling deep in his ribcage.

“Bad girl,” he says, roughly rubbing the pad of his thumb against my lips. “I’m in control of when you come. You can’t make me come before I allow you, either.”’

With a flurry of motion, I suddenly feel the heat and pressure of his tongue on me…between my legs. I gulp down air like I’m in a vacuum, fighting for each breath. If I weren’t blindfolded right now, my vision would be pitching sideways. Bright lights flash and dance in the darkness as Raphael flicks his tongue over my clit, savagely licking and sucking at me, the same way I was just licking and sucking at him. My pussy is so wet now. The chair Raphael had designed for me leaves no room for me to squirm away from him. I am locked in place, unable to really move, exposed and very vulnerable. Raphael claims my pussy with his mouth, and I can do nothing but shamelessly rock my hips, grinding myself against his face. He uses the flat of his tongue to sweep upwards in purposeful, determined strokes, and flares of pins and needles explode all over the surface of my skin. I am weak and boneless, like my body can no longer support its own weight. I writhe, my chest rising and falling rapidly, my nerve endings on fire.

“Please, Raph. Please. I can’t…fucking…take it anymore.”

He pauses, tutting disapprovingly. “We’re only just getting started. There’s so much more to be done here.”

“ Please, Raphael. I…I need you.”

Wicked laughter fills my ears. “I’m sorry. You haven’t been good enough to warrant coming just yet. But you will be, trust me. I’m going to give you every opportunity to earn your orgasm.”

I become something wild and crazed. He is a maestro with his tongue, conducting the symphony of my body, guiding it to dizzying heights and crashing, ceaseless crescendos. I gasp, I pant, and I moan, and the whole time Raphael is working his magic between my legs, I’m teetering on the brink of something consuming and powerful. I’m reaching the point of no return when Raphael draws back, saying, “You think holding your breath will disguise what’s about to happen? You think I can’t read your body like a book, Beth? You think I don’t know when you’re about to come? You’re mistaken. Your body’s fucking screaming it from the rooftops.” I’m shaking, my heart skipping all over the place. It’s no wonder he can tell. “I’m going to torture you just a little bit more now,” he says, stroking a finger down my cheek. He hums, as if he’s very pleased at what he sees. “I want you to watch me, Beth. I’m going to remove your blindfold, and I want you to watch me while I make myself rock solid for you. Are you ready?”

I’m more than ready. The idea of him palming his own dick while I watch is crazy hot. I can’t tell him how badly the idea turns me on, though. I can’t get a single word out. I nod instead, and Raphael works quickly, removing my blindfold.

He stands before me, a wall of stacked muscle, beautiful and terrible all at once. His dark hair is slick with sweat, falling into his face, his high cheekbones flushed with color, his full lips parted as his chest rises and falls. His torso looks like it’s hewn out of pure, perfect marble. A deep vee has been carved out of that marble, just below his stomach, dipping down into his groin, guiding my gaze down to his hard cock. He’s huge. Seriously fucking huge. He’s also fucking perfect . Circumcised, the head of his cock is proudly on display, slick with pre-cum as he takes his erection in his hand and slowly works his fist up and down it.

“Like what you see?” he asks, his voice laden with so many promises.

“Yes,” I pant. “I do.”

“You want me inside you?”

“Yes.”

“You want you want me to fuck you hard?”

“Yes.”

He works his fist faster up and down the length of his cock, his eyes glazing over with lust. “You want me to make you fucking scream?”

“Fuck . Yes!”

“Do you want to me tease your clit with my fingers while I pound you with my dick?”

“Yes .”

“Do you want me to bite your nipples?”

“Yes .”

Faster. Faster. He speeds up, his hand pumping up and down. His mouth opens, the muscles in his shoulders and his neck straining. “Do you want to taste my cum on your tongue, Beth?”

“Shit. Shit, please. Yes. I need you so badly,” I gasp. I need to touch myself, to feel my clit, slick and swollen beneath my fingers as I rub it in small circles. I can’t though. My hands are still restrained, so there’s nothing I can do but ride the exquisitely torturous waves of need and pleasure that lap at my body.

“Do you want to see my favorite thing about this chair?” Raphael asks.

“Your favorite thing?” A jolt of nerves fires through me. I was intimidated enough by the mere sight of the chair. Getting into it was taxing enough. But now it does something more than restrain and bare every part of me? Raphael smirks as he steps toward me. He reaches out and places a hand on the small arm rest to my right, searching underneath it, then clicking something to the side. Suddenly, I’m falling forward, the whole chair pivoting on an axis beneath me. I drop forward a clear foot, and I can’t help but let out a cry of surprise. Before I can topple forward and go crashing to the floor, however, a mechanism below the chair catches me, jerking me to a halt. My back is now at a ninety degree angle, my face in line with the floor, my ass and my pussy up in the air, almost as if I’m on my hands and knees.

Raphael growls, low in the back of his throat, the sound filled with brutal excitement. “There we are,” he snarls. “Now I can fuck you properly.”

If I were going to be afraid at any point in these proceedings, now would be the time. I’m prone, restrained, and in a very weak position. Raphael is the biggest, strongest guy I’ve ever encountered, and he sounds like he’s been swept away in the moment, lost on a sea of desire and the urgent need to claim and fuck. I am not afraid, though. I know, with just one word from me, a switch will flip in his head, and all of this will stop. He swore he’ll never hurt me, and I know he was telling the truth. Raph slowly walks around me, pacing slowly, completely naked, and every single hair on my damn body stands to attention.

“What are you going to do?” I ask.

I can’t see him anymore. I can only see the polished floor three feet away from my face, and the glare from the light overhead reflected in it. Raphael makes a tutting sound from behind me. “I’m going to fuck you, of course,” he muses. “I’m going to slam myself into you from behind until I’m finished with you. I’m going to touch you wherever I like. I’m going to use you however I like. And then I’m going to decide if you deserve to come or not, Beth.”

It feels difficult to breathe like this, hovering over the floor, but I don’t complain. I just wait. His fingers touch me first, and not near my clit or my pussy, but near my ass. He moans a little as he traces the tips of his fingers between my ass cheeks, slowly lowering them down, until he reaches my asshole. I’ve never allowed anyone to touch me there before. I’m fairly sure no one has even looked at me there before, so the knowledge that Raphael North is staring at me, enjoying the fact that he can stroke and tease at me, rubbing the wetness from my pussy upward so that it’s entirely covering me, is a little daunting. I’m not expecting how good it feels. I grit my teeth, expecting pain and discomfort, but Raph doesn’t push his fingers inside me right away. He strokes and he plays, until I find myself out of breath and turned on, moving against his hand.

“You’re a naughty girl, Beth. You want my fingers in your ass, don’t you?”

I can’t answer this. It feels wrong, dirty, to tell him that I do. I screw my eyes shut, opening my mouth as he pushes down, applying an intense pressure against me. A blisteringly hot wall of heat spreads over me, and Raphael groans.

“You have no fucking idea how beautiful you are to me right now. Your ass is like a peach. I’m going to devour it. I’m going to make it mine,” he informs me. I shiver again, and Raphael takes his cock and begins to rub it against my pussy. He focuses on my clit, working the head of his dick back and forth over the small, tight bundle of nerves until I’m trembling. When he pushes himself into my pussy, it’s as if I’ve been shot through with electricity. The sensation, being stretched, being so full of him, is so intense that my vision actually flashes, my eyes blurring for a second.

“Fuck, Beth. Your pussy feels amazing.” If I’m not mistaken, Raphael sounds like he’s struggling to rein in his own pleasure, just as I’m fighting to rein in mine. He slowly slides into of me, and there’s a second where I can’t remember how to force oxygen into my lungs. He feels…he feels incredible .

I moan, and it’s as if something snaps inside Raphael. “Fuck!” he hisses. “Shit, Beth. Soak me. Make my dick wet.” He slams himself home, his hands on my hips, fingers digging into my skin, and I scream, my cry ripping free from my vocal chords, making my throat raw. Raphael doesn’t go slowly. He doesn’t stop. He thrusts himself into me again, and then again, and again, grunting with the effort of fucking me so hard. “You’re so…fucking…tight ,” he rasps. He applies a little more pressure, and his finger dips inside my ass, causing me to buck against him.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you,” he says. “I’m going to make you feel good, I promise.”

Raphael North does not lie.

He fucks me brutally, and I lose track of all time and self. He’s inside me; his fingers are inside me; his mouth is on my back; he’s reaching around and kneading my breasts while he rocks his hips against mine.

I love every second of it.

I can feel him getting harder and harder with every thrust. It’s unbelievable. With every upward thrust of his hips, his body rubs against my clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure racing around my body, and I begin to beg. “Please, Raph. Please. Please. Please. Please let me come. I need you so fucking bad.”

“How badly do you want to fall apart right now?” he asks.

“So bad. So fucking bad. Please !”

“Okay, I suppose you have earned it.” I’d never have thought he was holding back, but Raphael ramps up his movements a hundred fold, making my pulse race away. I can’t take this anymore. I can’t fucking do it. I bounce and I rock against him as hard as I can, and Raphael fucks me even harder. The moment rises up at me, smashing into me, making me scream loud and hard. Raphael slides his fingers deeper into my ass just as I come, and he makes a strangled, guttural, frustrated sound.

“I’m going to come, Beth. I’m gonna fucking come, too.”

He releases inside me, his hips smashing into me from behind as he roars, his entire being one huge, tense mass of muscle. I scream his name, and both of us grind against one another, riding out the final ebb and flow of our climaxes.

No one has ever been able to make me come like this before. No one has ever made me come alive like this. I’m still recovering from the overwhelming pleasure when Raphael pulls out of me and walks around the chair with his dick in his hand. “That felt good, little butterfly, didn’t it?” he pants.

“Yes. My god…yes.” He must know it did; he heard me pleading with him to fuck me. He makes a pleased sound, then takes hold of a handful of my hair and forces my head back. The expression on his face is fierce. “I swear to you, Beth. My work. My money. My life here in New York. None of it means anything to me. From here on out, my only priority is making you feel good. The world can burn, and everyone in it can perish. So long as you’re by my side, Elizabeth Dreymon, I’m going to make sure you feel good every damn day for the rest of your life. You can count on that.”

* * *