Page 129 of Monsters Carve Thrones

My throat clenched. I swallowed the wine too fast, blinking down at my plate as warmth shot through my body.

He didn’t even look at me. Just kept his hand on my arm like it was nothing, still tracing those teasing circles.

Across the table, Laura and Nico were debating dessert options, Kieran occasionally chiming in with dry commentary. But I could barely focus. Every time Rafe spoke, every graze of his fingers against my skin reminded me how ready he was. How much restraint he was using. He sat there, cool and charming, talking about routes and contacts and contingency plans like he wasn’t about to destroy me the second we were alone.

He knew I’d been tense lately. Coiled tight with nerves, stress, vengeance. And this was precisely what I needed. So I ate a little more. Sipped more wine. Let the others talk and laugh.

***

The moment the bedroom door clicked shut behind us, I felt the shift. Rafe’s mask dropped completely. No more restraint. No more patience.

He stalked toward me like a feral wolf. “Take off your clothes,” he ordered, voice low. “Now.”

I stripped fast, my body already aching for him. But it didn’t matter how ready I was. Rafe was the kind of man who didn’t just take. He claimed entirely. The second I stood bare before him, he wrapped an arm around my waist and kissed me like he was about to devour me. Tongue deep. Teeth scraping. His hand slid between my thighs, fingers dipping right into my slick heat without warning.

I gasped.

“Shh,” he whispered against my mouth, smirking. “You remember what I said, little doe.”

I nodded, but it was already too late. He shoved me back onto the bed and came down over me like a storm. He dragged his fingers through my slit again, slow and maddening, barely brushing my clit before sinking two fingers deep inside me.

My hips jerked. “God, Rafe–”

“Shh,” he said again, this time firmer, with that wicked glint in his eyes. “Oh, baby, you’re not gonna last five minutes.”

He was right.

He curled his fingers just right, pumping them in and out of me while his thumb pressed against my clit in small, slow circles. It was deliberate and merciless and designed to fucking obliterate me.

My body was trembling already. I slapped a hand over my mouth, but a loud whimper escaped anyway.

Rafe chuckled darkly. “You want everyone to hear you getting fucked, is that it?” he whispered. “Want them to hear how needy you are for me?”

“Please,” I panted, grinding down on his hand.

He growled and flipped me onto my stomach, yanking my hips up. I shuddered when he pressed his cock against me.

“This is what you’ve been waiting for, isn’t it?” he murmured, lining himself up. I squirmed when I felt the head of his cock dipping inside. “Ugh, you desperate little thing.”

I nodded frantically, face buried in the blankets.

He shoved inside in one brutal thrust, making me scream.

“Shut up,” he hissed, clamping a rough hand over my mouth this time. “You’ve got to be quiet, baby. Or I’ll make it even harder.”

He didn’t let me adjust. He fucked me like he meant it–deep, punishing strokes that had me clawing the sheets, my body clenching around him with every thrust.

I tried. I really did.

But he was ruthless.

My orgasm hit like lightning, blinding and overwhelming. I moaned helplessly into his hand, my whole body locking up.

He kept going.

“Good girl,” he whispered against my ear. “That’s it. So fucking sweet when you come for me.”

I whimpered, overstimulated and soaking wet, my legs trembling beneath him.