Page 52 of Devil’s Azalea (Nightshades #3)
EMILIA
I have jumbled dreams of Rafael.
First, I’m back in junior high, when he laughed after I insulted him before declaring his protection over me.
Then the library scene shifts into focus—our official meeting as his tutor when he gave me a chocolate bar because I didn’t go to the cafeteria for lunch.
“You must be hungry,” he had said, and I had felt so warm inside because that was the first time anyone besides my dad had shown genuine concern for my wellbeing.
Then he had completely ruined that moment of kindness by essentially telling me to fuck off because he refused to be tutored by a girl two years younger than him. I had tried desperately to convince him to let me help. Even now, I still don’t really know why I cared.
Then he had asked for something personal, something no one else knew about me.
So I had said, “My middle name is Azalea.”
He had perked up like that was the most fascinating thing he'd heard in weeks. “Azalea, like the flowers?”
And that was the real beginning for us.
The library dissolves and suddenly I’m standing in the middle of that darned warehouse—now a supermarket—screaming at my younger self to turn back before Alfonso's men see her. But of course she can’t hear me. She never can in these dreams.
“Rafael,” I murmur his name, knowing he’ll come to save me, willing him to come quickly.
Then the scene changes abruptly. Now I’m lying on my back on cool grass under soft moonlight, both Rafael and I completely naked as he leans down and strokes my nipples with his tongue.
Fire lances through me and a hard involuntary shiver ripples up my spine and ? —-
My eyes snap open with a sharp gasp, and there he is. Slowly working his way down my body, tongue and hands building up pleasure in my flesh. “ Rafael, ” I moan, and he glances up at me with eyes that gleam silver in the dark room.
“Were you dreaming of me?” He blows a hot breath into my belly button, and as goosebumps erupt all over my body, he stiffens his tongue and dips it into my navel.
Jesus. I arch back with a deep groan, my heels pressing into the mattress.
He moves wickedly lower, slipping his fingers through my damp folds while flicking his tongue over my clit. My breath hitches, my body tensing with need.
I’m already soaked. Embarrassingly, desperately soaked, and he’s barely touched me.
How long has he been playing with me like this?
All I need is the barest hint of penetration and I’ll detonate like a firework.
The thought that he could bring me to the edge of orgasm without me even knowing sends a dark thrill through me.
“How long?” I manage to gasp.
“Long enough to get you ready for me.” A thick finger teases at my entrance, circling but not entering, and I want to scream. “You get so wet in your sleep, amorina . Do you know that?”
Oh my God. My cheeks flame, but then his tongue and teeth find my clit and I lose the ability to be embarrassed. My fingers curl into fists, clawing at the silk sheet as my pussy clenches around nothing, aching for him to fill me.
“Rafael—” I half protest, half moan when he takes his hand away. “Don’t you dare stop.” My own hands shoot up, diving into his dark hair and holding him in place. He started this torment and he’s damn well going to finish it.
He chuckles, but the sound is strained, like he’s just as affected. Good. He gives me back his tongue and fingers, but this time he stops fucking around. Two fingers sink into my clenching pussy while his tongue presses flat against my clit, and I see stars.
“Oh God, oh God, oh— Rafael! ” I shout his name, my head thrashing left and right against the pillow as pure, white-hot ecstasy lashes through me.
But Rafael doesn’t stop. He keeps licking and sucking and thrusting his fingers, drawing out my orgasm until I’m nothing but exposed nerves and raw sensation.
I quake and tremble and curse underneath him as the fire of my pleasure burns longer than ever before. Then slowly, gradually, the intensity eases and I seem to come back to my senses.
My breasts feel fuller, my flesh warmer, lusher. When I blink my eyes open, Rafael is watching me with eyes so dark they’re almost black, licking my taste from his lips like a man savoring wine. My core clenches at the sight, and I marvel that I can still feel desire after what he just did to me.
Rafael presses a soft kiss right on my mons—so gentle after being so ruthless—and grins. “Good morning, amorina .”
“It certainly is a good morning,” I say breathlessly, chest heaving.
Rafael chuckles and rolls off the bed. I watch, dazed, as he goes to the dresser across the room and pulls open the top drawer. He takes out my crown, necklace, and the earring set I wore to the wedding yesterday .
When he walks back, I’m momentarily hypnotized by his hard cock bobbing up and down with each step. I lick my lips hungrily, and he chuckles again, that deep, knowing sound that makes my skin tingle.
He climbs back onto the bed, and without a word, he places the crown on my undoubtedly disheveled hair. As he leans in to clip the necklace behind my neck, his scent—clean, masculine, heady—wraps around me like a cocoon, making me lose track of my thoughts for a moment.
Once the necklace is clipped, he pulls back just enough to take my earlobe between his fingers and gently secure one earring.
“W–what are you doing?” I ask with a slight laugh when he moves to my other ear.
“Dressing you up in my diamonds. I want you to ride me in nothing but my jewelry. I want you to fall apart with my name on your tongue, my crown on your head, and my necklace like a collar around your neck. I want you to show me who fucking owns you.”
It’s completely barbaric. I’m a fighter, a feminist. I should be disgusted.
Instead, I clamp my thighs together—partly to put pressure on my throbbing clit and partly to hide my growing wetness.
I like his barbaric words way too fucking much.
He leans back, lounging like a king waiting for tribute, then grabs my hips and pulls me forward until I’m stretched across his hot, hard body. “Ride me, wife.”
My skin hums with sensation as I straddle his hips, knees sinking into the soft mattress on either side of his legs.
For half a second, my gaze flicks towards the window where dawn is already brightening the sky.
I’m fit and know I have a great body, but this angle isn’t exactly the most flattering.
Rafael grips my chin, forcing my gaze back to his heated, dark eyes. “Take my fucking cock inside you, amorina . ”
And I’m helpless to do anything but obey his command. I lift myself slightly and wrap my hand around his thick, hot cock. My mouth waters at the memory of how he tasted, how he filled me.
I guide the wide head to my entrance and slowly lower myself onto him, taking him inch by agonizing inch until I’m so filled up with him I swear I can feel him nudging at my lungs.
“ Fuckkkkkk, ” he groans, his hands flying to my hips, fingers digging into my skin hard enough to leave marks.
To steady myself, I place a hand on his chest and experimentally roll my hips over his, clenching my inner walls around him. He yells my name, his eyes squeezing shut, head digging into the pillow.
God, the way he reacts to me—like I’m undoing him piece by piece—feeds something wild and hungry inside me. This man who commands respect and fear from everyone else is putty in my hands. I love it.
I let go of his chest and arch backwards, raising my arms behind my head as I rock harder. Fuck, it feels so goood.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, hold on,” Rafael pants, his hands on my hips trying to still my movements, but I’m not having it. I’m too close to my own release to stop now, damn it.
Since I can’t move my hips with his iron grip, I clamp my knees tighter against his sides and lean forward onto his chest. “ Uhn .” I moan, surprised at the sharp jolt of pleasure that rips through me.
Rafael lets out a tortured groan, and then he loses the battle too. His grip shifts, and he uses his big hands to rock me hard and fast over him, driving up into me with deep, brutal thrusts.
I lick his lower lips and one of his hands slides up tangling into my hair. The crown gets dislodged and falls somewhere on the bed, but I couldn’t care less when he’s kissing me so deeply, so thoroughly, his tongue stroking and sucking mine so seductively .
I rock my hips even faster, my abdominal and pussy muscles tightening as my climax builds higher and higher. He breaks the kiss to let out an agonized groan right against my ear—and it fucking obliterates what little control I had and sends me hurtling over the edge.
My cries are loud enough to shatter the windows and mingle with his strained groans as we both cum together in perfect synchronization.
Spent and shaking, I collapse onto his chest. His arms wrap around me possessively, and I sigh in blissful satisfaction, toes and spine still tingling.
What a way to start our first day as a married couple.
I must have dozed off because when my eyes flutter open again, I’m alone on the bed, body deliciously sore in all the right places. I raise my arms overhead in a luxurious stretch, glancing around the sun-bathed room.
What time is it?
I ease out of bed, wincing slightly, and limp towards the bathroom, my core muscles still quivering from him. I press a hand over my belly, heat blooming low again just from the memory.
In the bathroom, I find a new toothbrush package and make quick work of brushing my teeth. My gaze lingers on the huge bathtub.
Maybe next time.
I slip into the shower, turning the water hot, and gently wash my skin with soap that smells deliciously like him. My mouth actually waters.
When I get out, the bathroom is all fogged up. I use one of the towels to wipe the mirror clear and smirk at my reflection—at the faint finger-shaped bruises on my hips, the marks on my waist, the dark hickey blooming on my neck. I don’t even remember when he gave me that.
I’m still smiling as I walk back into the bedroom to the sound of my phone ringing. I scan the room for my purse and hurry towards the armchair where Rafael must have put it for me.
I take the phone out, my smile fading when I see the caller ID. Stacey .
I bite my lips as I answer. “Hello?”
Silence stretches on her end. For a second, I think the call disconnected. But then her voice comes, flat and cold. “You actually went ahead and married the man who murdered your father?”
I don’t know what I expected from her, but my heart sinks in disappointment, all the post-orgasmic bliss evaporating.
“Wow, no, hello, how do you do? Why did you quit your job? How did you survive two assassination attempts on your life?” No, how could you get married without me being there? “And by the way, he told me he didn’t do it.”
She’s silent for another few seconds. “He told you he didn’t do it and you believed him?”
My heart aches so badly I feel like I can’t swallow. Does she even care about me? “What do you want Stacey?” My tone turns harsh.
“You got married yesterday. What changed? The last time we talked, you hated his guts, and now you’re his wife? If I wasn’t so busy, I would’ve tried to stop you. What were you thinking? Is he threatening you with something? It’s not too late to have the marriage annulled.”
I laugh dryly, but I’m far from amused. “Annulment isn’t possible at this point.” My voice comes out loaded with meaning, and I hope she hears it.
She clears her throat. “I suppose I get why you might be attracted to him, and why you let him do… things to you. But my point still stands—you can end it if you want. Whether the marriage was consummated or not. ”
Things to you. Like what we just did was somehow shameful instead of one of the most amazing experiences of my life.
“Did you call to try to convince me to end my marriage? Not because you were worried about the assassination attempts on my life?” This is the third time I’ve mentioned that someone tried to kill me, and somehow, she keeps pretending not to hear
“I knew you'd be fine.” She dismisses my near-death experiences casually. “Those fuckers stood no chance against you.”
She sounds so confident that a little alarm bell goes off in my head. “And how exactly do you know that? The first attack was six against two, Stacey. And yesterday, I almost got shot. I stood no chance at all!” My voice rises with each word and I inhale deeply, trying to pull myself together.
The bedroom door opens, and Rafael pokes his head in, eyes narrowed in concern. I wave him off. He hesitates, studying me, but thankfully leaves, shutting the door again.
“Where are you right now, Emily? With Rafael? Can you come to Virginia? We need to talk.”
“Yes, we absolutely do need to talk. You need to tell me exactly what happened ten years ago, every single detail, and why you told me Rafael killed my dad when he didn't.”
She pauses for some moments, and when she speaks again, she sounds hurt. “So you’re going to believe him over me? You’ve been with him again for, what, a week? And you trust him already?”
“I do trust him. I trust him with my life. He’s been bluntly honest with me from the start. Why would he lie about that?”
“I don’t know, maybe because he wants you to stop hating him!
” She sounds agitated now. “There’s no point talking to you when you’re like this.
He’s obviously got you brainwashed—making you quit a career you worked so hard for and have been building for over a decade.
This is insanity, Emily. Call me when you’re ready to wake up. ”
“You want to know why I quit my job?” I snap, my anger flaring hot. “Because the people who beat me the fuck up and almost killed me were FBI agents. My colleagues !”
She inhales sharply, but I continue before she can interrupt.
“What sort of environment would that be if I continued working there? Would I begin to fear for my life and suspect my colleagues and superiors? That’s toxic .” I spit the word.
“How do you know they were agents? Did Rafael tell you that? He?—”
I scoff. “You really need to get over this hatred you have for Rafael and take the blinders off your eyes. He’s not lying to me.” I’m shaking as I draw in a ragged breath. “Don’t call me again unless you’re ready to actually listen to me.”
And then I hang up.