Chapter 18: Rafe Stays

The monitor hissed and went quiet.

Rafe rested his mouth against my shoulder blade.

"She's asleep," he whispered.

"Then don't stop."

He pulled almost all the way out, and drove back in.

I gripped the edge of the table and pushed back to meet him.

The sound of our skin was loud in the dim room, and I did not care.

"Harder," I said.

"Fuck, Claire."

"Harder, Rafe."

He fucked me hard from behind, with his fingers digging into my hips and the table creaking under my hands.

He reached around and found my clit and rubbed it in tight circles.

I pressed my forehead against the wood and breathed his name.

"Look at me," he said.

"I can't."

"Then I'll come around."

He pulled out, and I whimpered at the emptiness.

He turned me and lifted me onto the table, and spread my knees wide with his hands.

"I want to see your face," he said, "when you come."

He pushed back into me, slowly this time, filling me inch by inch, and I felt every one of them.

I wrapped my legs around him and my arms around his neck.

"I thought about this," he said into my hair. "For weeks. In every meeting. With my pen in my hand."

"What did you think?"

"That I'd never get to hear you say my name."

"Rafe," I said. "Rafe. Rafe."

He kissed me, deep and wet, and he drove into me with long strokes that made my toes curl.

"Your cock," I said, and I was past embarrassment. "God, your cock is so good."

"Say it again."

"I want you to come in me."

His rhythm stuttered.

"Not yet," he said through his teeth. "You first."

He slid his thumb over my clit, quick and firm, and the pressure inside me wound tighter and tighter.

I came with a cry I smothered against his shoulder, clenching around him in hard pulses.

Keep reading free with an account. Start Desperate Housewife? No, I'm Billion-Dollar Revenge from Chapter 1, then sign up free to read the rest of this chapter.