Page 56

After a long day of facing fears that I absolutely have not overcome, regardless of the extra special trauma I experienced today, and many hours of strolling through the small town festival, enjoying live music and eating our way through the day, I’m glad to be back in bed.

Though as much as I’d expected to be tired, and I am , my pussy has certainly not gotten the memo.

Rafael has me clutched tightly to his chest, his eyes lazily roaming my body, committing every piece of me to memory.

His thick length is jutting out, rubbing against the now wet silk seam of my pyjama shorts, and the feeling of his fingertips drawing leisurely patterns over my skin has every nerve ending firing.

“Do you remember what I told you earlier?” he asks, his voice low and husky.

I nod because I’ve been thinking about it all goddamn day my reward for nearly dying today.

Okay, maybe that’s a tad dramatic.

“And what would you like to do with that information?” he asks, his warm breath coasting over my lips, sending a shiver down my spine.

I push hard on his chest, effectively rolling him onto his back, as I swing a leg over his lap and straddle his waist.

A lopsided smirk curves my lips as I peer down at him, my fingers digging into the sculpted muscles of his chest, and his large, callused hands grip my hips firmly as I settle down over him.

“You were very bad today,” I taunt, sucking my bottom lip between my teeth.

“I’d argue that I was actually very good today, but go on. I like where this is going,” he says with a wry grin.

I slide a hand up his chest, wrapping it around the base of his throat. His Adam’s apple bobs beneath my palm when he swallows.

“And now you’re talking back?” I question, quirking a brow.

He sucks his lips in, poorly hiding his smile.

I release his neck, sitting up to whip my shirt off over my head, tossing it to the floor. Leaning down, I press my chest against his, the coarse, trimmed hairs littering his skin creating a delicious friction over my nipples.

The head of his cock flicks along my seam as I roll my hips, revelling in the sound of his tortured groan. “You know exactly what you’ve got coming tonight, don’t you?” I ask. “I can tell by that little sound you just made.”

He squeezes his eyes shut. “I’m afraid I’m in for a night of edging, and I’m suddenly really unhappy with this deal we made,” he admits.

It’s a good thing that I am most certainly not unhappy .

I climb off of him, shimmying out of my shorts, glad that I’ve been forgoing knickers when with Rafael—it saves on laundry. I take a seat on the last remaining armchair, crossing my right leg over my left knee, and relax into the chair with my fingers curling over the armrests.

“Strip for me,” I tell him.

He rolls out of the bed, tugging his grey sweats down his thick, tanned thighs. I’m momentarily mesmerised by the deep V that points an arrow to his impressive length. He has a faint tan line from the tiny gym shorts the rugby players wear, and that thought only makes me wetter.

A few months ago, I never would’ve believed I could love a sport as much as I love football, but suddenly, rugby is fighting for a tie.

He strokes his cock, but I shake my head. “Did I say you could touch yourself?” And because I’m an asshole and can’t help myself, I look him dead in the eye and add, “And tonight, you’ll call me Mommy.” I have to suck my cheeks in to avoid the snicker trying to slip free.

He groans, dropping his hand to his side.

“On your knees,” I say, nodding my chin at him. He does as he’s told, planting his hands on the smooth wood floors. “Now crawl to me.”

When he’s got his face mere centimetres from my centre, I lift my legs, settling them over his back.

“This may be the last meal you’re offered tonight.

” I run the pad of my thumb over his plump bottom lip, plucking it from its place between his teeth.

“Show me what a good meal I am, Rafa,” I whisper.

My words act as a command, and he obediently dips his head, sweeping his tongue through my seam and swirling it inside my dripping core.

“Oh, god,” I groan, slumping back into the chair.

“Oh, god, is right,” he says, slurping and sucking on my tender flesh, lighting fireworks through me. “You taste so fucking good, Mommy. I could have you for every meal and fucking thrive. ”

I grip the roots of his tousled black hair, tugging tight enough that I know from personal experience it’s got to hurt. He doesn’t seem to mind as he feasts on me.

Just as my vision is becoming hazy and dark spots start to blur the edges, I sit up, pushing his face back.

“That’s enough,” I say, but the words sound breathless as I pant back the building arousal.

“I disagree,” he grumbles, his dark eyes swirling like a black hole ready to suck me into them.

“I’m sorry,” I say, sarcasm oozing from my lips as I cock my head to the side, “did I ask for your opinion?” My brows pinch. “ No, I did not. Now, get up.”

Reluctantly, he drags his ass off of the ground.

Standing and sauntering past him, I make my way over to the end of the bed. The soft mattress dips beneath me as I scoot far enough back for what I have planned, my legs still dangling over the side.

“Come here,” I demand, crooking my finger at him.

He heads over to me, a weary look written on his face that makes me smile. His lips are pursed, eyes darting between mine, and I think I fully understand why he enjoys this side of sex, not that I’m doing a great job at the whole “dommy mommy” bit.

I pat my lap, unable to hide the massive grin I’m sporting at the prospect of spanking this thirty-two-year-old man who looks like he wants to cry angry tears.

He sucks in a deep, steadying breath before lying across my lap, perky ass up. “I swear to god, if you shove anything up my ass, I’m returning the favour,” he grunts out.

“Noted,” I say. I rub a small circle over one firm globe, the initial contact making him jump and glare up at me.

This may not be making my pussy any wetter, but I’m definitely loving it nonetheless.

Just when he starts to relax, I rear my hand back, smacking one cheek with a loud thwack . It leaves a bright-red handprint as he yelps.

“Such a bad boy you’ve been,” I taunt, trying not to laugh, but when he snorts, I lose it. I fight to regain my composure, sucking in a breath through my nose and blowing it out through my mouth. “Alright, let’s try this again.”

“If you say so,” he grumbles.

I smack his ass again, really thinking about what I’m about to say, but when I do it one more time, enjoying the sting of my palm, I feel his cock twitch, and all bets are officially off. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” I tease, already knowing the answer.

“No,” he groans. I reward the lie with another smack that sends a sharp pain stinging up my palm, and again, his dick twitches at the same time his ass cheeks clench. “Don’t even say it, it’s a pain boner,” he swears.

I smack the other cheek, and there’s no mistaking the breathy moan that leaves this man harder than a metal rod. “Go on, admit it. You like being disciplined almost as much as you like doing the disciplining.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” He groans. “I’m very reluctantly, sort of, kind of, maybe just a little bit, enjoying myself,” he says. “Now spank me, Mommy, and get me off of your lap before I collapse. All the blood is going to my dangling limbs, my cock included.”

That earns him a few more spanks, and when my wrist is aching and my palm is sore, as is his ass, I’d imagine, I let him get up. Yeah, no, I’m pretty sure if I took a class in “the art of spanking” I’d be breaking every rule in the book. Ten out of ten, will try again.

“Now go sit down in that chair,” I say, pointing to the last one still standing after last night.

He shakes his head, looking defeated as he hobbles over to the chair with his beet-red ass cheeks lighting the way like a beacon in the night.

I have to suck my lips into my mouth to contain the laughter.

Being on the receiving end of this same kind of torture is beyond fun, but damn, if I were a journaling kind of woman, I’d definitely be writing about this.

I scoot further back on the bed, angling myself so that when I lean back, opening my legs wide for him, he can see exactly what he’s not allowed to have. Not yet, anyway.

My hand slips between my spread thighs, and I swirl my fingers over my clit, arching off the bed. Pleasure ripples through me, reminding me how badly I want us to get to the finish line.

“You can look, but you can’t touch. Do you understand?” I ask.

“Yes,” he grunts, but just as I’d thought, when I look over at him, he’s fisting his cock.

“ I said no touching, Rafael. Do I need to make myself more clear?”

“Seriously?” he whines. “I thought you meant no touching you. Jesus, fuck.”

I’d pay good money, money I certainly don’t have, to see this man whimper. In fact, it’s my entire goal for the night.

“Nope, no touching at all. Sit on your hands.”

I can tell he wants to roll his eyes, but he holds back, lifting his ass and sliding his hands under his thighs like I’d told him to.

“ Un si bon garcon ,” I praise with a smirk, pumping two fingers inside myself, greatly over-exaggerating the sounds it elicits from me, knowing I’m driving him wild. Hell, I’m driving myself wild. I want him inside me already, but I’m having too much fun to give in yet.

Rafael’s twitching as he releases groan after frustrated groan, and when I spread my pussy lips and drive three fingers inside, he whimpers.

My eyes are wide as I shoot up, removing my fingers from my centre.

I wear a wide grin as I watch him squirm under my gaze, his cock fully erect, with a bead of precum leaking from the tip.

“Alright, your turn,” I say and watch as the recognition flashes in his eyes. He immediately stands, practically running to pick me up, just to toss me in the centre of the bed.

“On your knees, peligrosa. It’s time I repay the favour.” And boy, does he ever.

Everything is sore, and I'm mildly convinced my ass is going to be red for the next week, but it was well worth it.

Rafael cleaned us up, and now that his arms are wrapped around me as he hums a song I don’t recognise, pressing kisses to the top of my head, my lids are incredibly heavy.

I reach over, turning off the lamp before settling back against his chest. Several moments pass, my mind drifting in and out of consciousness, but before I can fully doze off, Rafael’s soft voice falls around me.

“Baby,” he whispers. “Are you okay?”

My ears perk, worry niggling at the edges of my heart. I turn over so our chests are pressed together, sliding a hand up his, resting it over his heart. “Yeah, of course I am. Why? What’s wrong?” I ask.

Maybe he’s overwhelmed by how quickly we’re moving. I feel like I might be if I allow myself to think on it too long, but everything with him just feels so right .

He captures my hand, resting his over mine and squeezing gently. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I’m second-guessing taking you to the church,” he admits.

My chest suddenly has a boulder sitting on it. Regret. God, I hate that emotion. It’s arguably my least favourite of them all and something I’ve worked diligently to overcome in therapy.

“I can practically hear the wheels turning in your head, Elise,” he says with a chuckle. “I don’t regret taking you or writing our names on that wall, or any part of the experience. I’m worried that it was too much with your fear of heights.”

An audible breath leaves my lungs, and my rigid muscles melt back into the bed.

“No, Rafa. I hated the heights, so don’t do that shit again, but I don’t have any regrets.

It was romantic in a twisted and annoying sort of way.

” I let out a soft laugh, the corners of my mouth curling as I speak, amusement dancing in my voice.

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Deal, but only if you promise not to spank me again. That got me hard for no good reason, and as much fun as it proved to be, I think I’ll stick to being the one doing the spanking.”

My cheeks flush with the memory. “Sounds good to me. It was fun, but I don’t really have an interest in being a switch. Sex is one of the only times I’m okay relinquishing control.”

He strokes a thumb over my cheekbone, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear.

“And why is that?” he asks, his tone soft again.

I take a moment to think, reluctant to answer something like that without putting thought into it, and after a brief pause, the answer is clear “Having bipolar disorder has taken a lot from me, I think. Sure, there are worse things, and I’ve been very fortunate that with medication I’m usually pretty stable, but the fear of slipping into a manic or depressive episode is something that just ruminates with me at a baseline.

It’s not at the forefront of my mind, but it sits there like background noise. ”

He runs his hand along the back of my head, pulling my cheek to rest on his chest, but he says nothing, letting me speak and get the thoughts out at my own pace.

“It feels like there’s always this little piece of me that could make me lose myself if I’m not careful.

” My cheeks flush as I recall my most recent manic episode, one that he helped me find my way back from.

“I try to have as much say in my life as possible to repress that feeling of being out of control. But with sex, I’m able to dissociate from it a little and let pleasure override my thoughts with endorphins and the knowledge that my partners are all consenting, willing participants who want me to experience pleasure almost as much as they do.

Even knowing that, I’ve never been able to fully let go even with sex, at least, not until you. ”

“Why me?” he asks, his words sounding thick on his tongue.

“Because,” I say, cupping the side of his neck and pressing a soft kiss to his plush lips, “I trust you, completely, with every part of me, even my heart .”

Admitting that has a knot of vulnerability tightening in my stomach. I’ve never wanted to allow anyone else to see this raw and unprotected side of me before, but it’s true. I trust him in every sense of the word.

“Thank you,” he chokes out, pressing his forehead to mine. “You’re the only person I’ve ever even wanted to trust like this, and fuck, I do. I want you to have every piece of me.”

“Why?” I ask, like the idiot that I am. Why? Really, Elise?

He chuckles, unfazed by my apparent inability to read the room. “Because, mi vida , with you, I feel whole.”

Butterflies swarm in my stomach, my throat tightening as I repress the sob that suddenly threatens to take hold of me.

I’m not capable of words, so actions will have to suffice. I grip his cheeks in my palms, pressing my lips to his again, allowing his warmth to radiate into me. I fall asleep in his arms and have the most incredible dreams.