Page 44 of Deviant

Him.

My lids drifted shut, and I gave myself over to the fantasy of his dark, disheveled head between my thighs.

His piercing green eyes on me.

Black ink winding up his biceps.

And my body responding.

Spine arching.

Nipples hardening.

Sweat broke out on my temples, and the breeze sneaking through the window did little to cool my feverish skin. Naked and wanton on the bed, I spread my thighs further apart as the tempo of my touch increased. It had been days since I’d felt the softness of cotton against my skin, the direct beam of sunlight on my face, the euphoria that always gripped me in the throes of an orgasm.

I hadn’t felt Rafe against me, skin to skin from the tips of my breasts to the spread of my thighs. He’d taken me from behind every fucking time, his thrusts rough and fast, getting him off before I could reach the top of the summit, let alone leap off the other side.

I was close to going over now.

So fucking close.

That’s when the door opened.

I yanked my hand from between my legs, but it was too late. Rafe stood in the doorway, his mouth tight with displeasure. As he entered the room, I sat up and pressed my thighs together in shame.

“I thought I’d bring you a treat,” he said, setting a foil-wrapped truffle on the dresser. “Didn’t expect to find you treating yourself.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You will be.” As he opened the drawer I’d dubbed thenaughty one, he directed a dark look my way. “Bend over the bed.”

I scrambled off the mattress and flopped over the end. Fuck, I’d been foolish. I should have waited until darkness fell, until long after he’d gone down for the night. He and Jax had fallen into a habit of chatting it up until midnight, both camping out in the living room.

Rafe’s footsteps brought him to where I lay in wait, bent over the bed in his favorite position of vulnerability. He yanked my hands behind my back and cuffed my wrists together. These were metal—the kind I wasn’t getting out of.

“This should dissuade your urges.”

“How am I supposed to sleep like this?” Let alone wipe my ass if I had to use the bathroom.

“I’ll figure something out. If I have to, I’ll tie your hands to the goddamn bedposts.” He undid his buckle, lowered his zipper. The next instant, he pushed inside me, groaning at how wet and ready I was. “If you fucking come, I’m bringing in the ginger.”

My heart broke a little more as he pumped from behind, his hands steady on my hips, guiding the angle and depth of his cock. As he came, and that low, sexy groan of his infused the air, something inside me cracked.

“When are you gonna forgive me?”

He pulled me to my feet, twirled me around, and laid me on the bed. Propping himself up, one hand on either side of my head, he lowered his mouth, lingering inches from mine.

“I’ve already forgiven you.”

“I miss you.”

He kissed the hint of tears off my cheeks, then his mouth slanted over mine. I whimpered into his kiss, wishing like hell I could touch him.

“I miss you too, babe.” He veered back, one thumb caressing my cheekbone. “This will be over soon.”

“When?”

“When I feel you’ve learned your lesson.”

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