Rafe doesn’t smile or gloat, nor does he look at me with pity. “His loss is my gain,” he says simply. “Because I will do those things. I will touch you, explore every single inch of your body, get to know it better than even you do. I will taste you over and over again until you come in my mouth, not once, not twice, but as often as you’ll allow. You will quiver and shake, and, beautiful Brie, you will whisper my name like a fervent prayer. I will not own you, but I will not stop until you’re begging me to.”
What he doesn’t realize is I’m already halfway there. His words alone are enough to send a jolt of pleasure through me, and if he doesn’t do what he says soon, I may combust. Disappointment and confusion sweep in as he turns away from me, but he comes back with a stool and sits directly in front of me.
“Spread those gorgeous legs, baby,” he requests, his voice husky and laced with promise.
I do as he asked, and he catches me off guard when he grabs them and hooks them over his shoulders, forcing me onto my back on the counter.
The irony of what we’re about to do isn’t lost on me, and the idea of him taking me right where Adrian tried to claim ownership has me wanting him that much more. I watch through hooded eyes as his head dips between my legs, and I catch my breath in anticipation of his first taste.
He’s as patient as I am anxious, taking his time. Slow, agonizing kisses on my inner thigh have me wriggling beneath him as his hot tongue and warm breath set my nerve endings on fire. I squirm, losing myself the higher he goes. His fingers are dangerously close to my core, awaiting his mouth to ascend, and I raise my hips, urging him on, wanting to beg for him to finally, please, just touch me. Taste me.
He presses a sweet kiss on my outer thigh, where his fingers rest, and I arch upward, offering myself to him, wanting him to take until he consumes all of me. Wanting him to give me what Adrian wouldn’t. To completely erase all of it and replace the memory with one of his. Just as I think he’s going in for the kill, he bypasses my * and lifts up from the stool, his eyes boring into mine as he hovers over me.
“Brie,” he whispers, his voice hoarse and almost reverent.
“Don’t stop, Rafe,” I breathe, my hands moving up to grip his messy hair, trying to push him back down.
His own hand comes up and tightens on my wrist, his body pressing into mine. “What do you want, Brie?” he asks, his eyes hungry and wild.
“You,” I respond, wondering why he’s asking when he already knows the answer.
“What do you want me to do?” he challenges.
I can feel his erection, hard and thick, nestled in between my legs, and it causes me to writhe against him, giving me a brief reprieve from my unsated need.
“I . . .” I whisper, closing my eyes and enjoying the feel of him.
“Say it, Brie. Before I go any further, I need you to say the words out loud. I will not be him. You will always have a choice with me, and I won’t take what you aren’t ready to give. This is up to you. We can stop now. All you have to do is say the word.”
My eyes flutter open to see his face strained as he waits for my answer. Stop now? Is he insane?
“And if I don’t want to?” I ask.
“Then say that, too, baby.”
“I want you, Rafe. To kiss me. Taste me. Take me. Erase every memory of him and replace it with you. This is my choice. If you want me, take me from him. Make me yours.”
Desire and triumph flash in his eyes at my answer. His lips crash down on mine, swallowing my words. His tongue parts my lips as he drinks in my essence. I’ve given him the green light and he’s ready to go from zero to sixty in two seconds flat. He’s eager, ready, and so am I.
When he pulls back, his hand cups my cheek, his heated gaze meeting mine. “I’ve wanted a taste of you since the moment I saw you. I can’t wait any longer. I need my mouth on this sweet * I’ve been dreaming about for days.”
He sits back on the stool and settles between my legs, his five-o’clock shadow grazing the skin between my thighs as he takes a long swipe of my sex. A moan escapes me as days—more like months—of pent-up frustration melts away with just one lick. He glances up just as I fall back against the counter and push towards him.
“Right there, Rafe. So good. That’s so good,” I pant, urging him on.
Hooking my legs over his shoulder again, he buries his face in my *, tasting me, his mouth and tongue exploring and savoring me as if I’m the most delicious treat and he can’t get enough, yet he can’t bear for it to be gone all too soon.
The slow, deliberate flicks of his tongue quickly bring me to the brink as waves of pleasure course through my blood. Just as my orgasm builds, Rafe’s lips clamp down on my clit, and I cry out at the pleasurable jolt of pain. His hand caresses my ass before it comes around so his fingers find my sweet folds, which are wet and waiting for him. As his tongue massages my clit, his fingers relentlessly work me over, stroking up and down, back and forth, in and out, as I hover dangerously close to an explosive climax.
A firm hand comes down to grip his hair pushing his face deeper between my legs. A low growl escapes his lips, the vibrations reverberating against my * causing me to buck my hips in response. It only causes him to suck harder, lick deeper, and thrust his fingers faster. He drinks as if he’s dehydrated and my *’s the only oasis from which he can satisfy his thirst. And he can’t get enough. He never will.
“So close, Rafe,” I whimper.
He responds by slipping a finger inside me and pumping in and out in a pistoning fashion that only increases my arousal. Just as the orgasm wells up in me, he pulls his finger from my body, slowing his tongue until the crest of the wave dies down, not yet quite crashing over.
He continues his torturous assault, bringing me just to the threshold only to retreat until I’m panting, writhing, and begging for him, just as he said I would.
“Rafe, please,” I breathe, my tone pleading and urgent.
He lifts up, his lips glistening. The sight of my wetness coating his mouth is quite possibly the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen, and suddenly, I want a taste, too.
“Please what?” he asks, giving me a devilishly lazy grin as if he could do this all night. He probably could, and I have half a mind to allow it. To request it, even.
“Make me come,” I beg, and the grin erases from his face.