I swallow convulsively, shakes reverberating through my body, but refuse to look away. I’m still holding Rafe’s penetrating gaze when Krystian groans and comes inside of my ass, which causes Zaid to explode inside of me with a shout.
Rafe doesn’t wait until they slide out of me. Instead, he picks me up and pushes me against the wall. I instinctively wrap my legs around him and dig my heels into his ass.
“You’re still dressed,” I point out, breathless.
His expression doesn’t change. “I am.”
“How are you supposed to fuck me with pants on?” I give him a bratty eyebrow raise that I know will drive him insane.
He growls, the noise ricocheting through my body in a flood of liquid heat, and then presses his lips to mine.
Rafe is…kissing me.
Our first kiss.
It occurs to me then that he didn’t kiss me during our first time together. Not once. He kissed my body, my breasts, my pussy…but not my lips. Never my lips.
I think I can die like this—with Rafe’s lips melded to mine, his stubble dragging enticingly against my cheeks and chin. When his tongue prods the seam of my lips, demanding entrance, I grant it to him eagerly. We kiss and kiss and kiss—until I’m worried I may pass out from lack of oxygen.
Is that even possible for me? Dying again? I’ll have to ask Hades about it later.
Though the last thing I want to think about right now is my father.
Rafe pulls away with a ragged gasp and presses his forehead against my own. His breathing is uneven as he stares at me, and for once, his eyes are swarming with a plethora of emotions.
“I love you, Thea. So much.”
Unexpected tears burn my eyes at his confession. I know he does—he’s shown it in all the ways that count—but out of all my guys, he’s the least likely to admit it.
“I love you too.”
Rafe doesn’t even bother undressing. Instead, he uses one hand to free his throbbing cock while the other helps support my weight against the wall. He jerks his hips up and enters me in one thrust, his cock stretching me impossibly wide.
He fucks me ruthlessly, harshly, possessively. His eyes never leave my own.
“Promise you won’t leave us again,” he growls out.
“I promise,” I pant out. I would say just about anything at the moment. I’m practically putty in his skilled hands. “And if I do leave you, I’ll always come back.”
Always.
Each strike of Rafe’s hips against my own is almost painful, but I wouldn’t want it any other way. I’m almost desperate for the bruises I know he’s going to leave behind.
A sign of ownership.
Of claiming.
Of possession.
“Rafe…” I whimper, curling my fingers in his dark hair.
“Come for me, my goddess,” he whispers, kissing me once more. “I want you to milk my cock like the good little slut I know you are.”
I don’t think I could stop my orgasm from coming even if he asked me to. I’m too pent-up, too needy, too desperate.
I explode around his shaft with a scream, stars blotting out my vision. I can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t do anything but ride out wave after wave of lust.
I collapse against Rafe, feeling sweaty and sated and utterly spent.
