Raphael (Deadly Virtues #1)(46)

Not wanting to lose the flush to her cheeks, he brought his hand lower and lower, over the thin fabric of Maria’s dress, over her stomach and down to her bare pussy. Raphael’s dick twitched. His pretty little rose had shaved. Like the perfect submissive she was apparently born to be, Maria’s legs fell further open without her even being asked. Raphael stilled and flicked his gaze up to meet hers. He had yet to tell her to look away. He didn’t like his conquests to keep his gaze for too long. He should order her eyes to drop, and he was about to open his mouth to issue the command, yet he stayed quiet. The words simply wouldn’t come.

Maria was staring at him, lips parted and pink nipple hard. His little rose looked so pure. Pure and good as she watched him—a light in her eyes as she regarded his dark soul. An angel in bed with the devil. Raphael licked his lips at the thought. Never in all these years had he been with someone like her.

Untouched.

Unsullied.

Purely his for the taking.

Raphael couldn’t help but become awash with pride knowing she would never have anyone else but him. She would never be leaving his rooms. She would forever carry his scent on her skin. Be branded with his touch and kiss. Be his to own forevermore.

All of his kills were overused pussy, and unsavory to his tastes. But a kill was a kill, a fuck was a fuck . . . until her.

Until little Maria.

Maria clenched her thighs, causing Raphael to look down. Her pussy was wet, glistening with come brought about by his hand. Stroking his steady hands up her milky thighs, Raphael parted Maria’s legs so he could see her better. Maria softly moaned, hands fisting the sheets as the cool air lapped at her silky cunt lips. Raphael watched her cheeks flood with redness. Her pussy was as pink as the rose in her hair, and her clit was swollen and thick. Her hole clenched, and Raphael thrust his cock against the mattress as he imagined plunging inside. The cage choked his dick until he hissed at the heavenly constrictive pain. His eyes rolled back as his balls pulled tight, the cage restricting his blood, his tip throbbing. He breathed through the pleasure, inhaled a long breath as he fought the need to come. Raphael’s hands fisted, and the muscles in his neck grew taut. When he looked up, Maria was watching him.

Her hair. Her long blond hair was a halo on her pillow. An angel. His very own angel to keep.

Stop. He had to stop. He wouldn’t waste this kill with impatience. He wouldn’t waste the beauty in his bed, the gift the devil had brought to his door. He would savor her taste, consume her cries of ecstasy. He would relish each touch of her body beneath his dangerous hands. And he would collect her pleasure, day after day, week after week, until she was his and his alone. Until her smiles were unbarred and her love for him was uncensored, obsessive . . . until he was the very air she breathed.

Slow. He must go slow. His little rose mustn’t be scared away.

Running his hands along her inner thighs, Raphael reached her needy pussy and, with his thumbs, gently pushed her lips apart. Maria cried out at the simple touch. Raphael glanced up, checking her eyes were still on his. He didn’t like any form of disobedience from his lovers—she had to do exactly what he said. He wanted his little rose to memorize every part of this—her ruin, his ascension as her king. She would watch every part of his tongue plunging into her dripping cunt, of him destroying her innocence and crafting her to be the perfect little possession that he’d keep forever.

To Raphael’s satisfaction, her attention was totally fixed on him. Raphael shifted further up her body until his mouth hovered above her clit. Testing how desperate her need was for his touch, Raphael gently blew on her throbbing pussy. Maria’s eyes rolled and her hips twitched. But his good little rose didn’t move. Raphael’s stern commands had tied her to the bed with phantom chains. His will was the lock keeping her subdued. His words were the only key. A lock he had no intention of breaking open . . . yet.

Raphael brushed his thumb over her sensitive clit. Maria gasped, her perfect, untouched hole clenching, hungry for his cock. It would come in time. He had so much to show his little rose first. When he took her, she would be desperate for him to fill her. Mewling, panting with the need for him to tear her heart apart.

Raphael had to make her love him first. There would be no room for anyone else in her life. No God. No Jesus. Just him . . . her true savior, the man she would sacrifice herself for . . . just to please him. “Do you like that, little rose?”

Maria’s mouth moved but no words came out. Raphael stopped his thumbs. A flicker of annoyance shot through him at her lack of response. But Maria was a quick study.

“Yes, my lord,” she said. “I . . . I like it.” Her voice was barely a whisper, stuttered and unsteady. But it was enough to sate Raphael’s need for Maria’s obedience.

“Mm,” he murmured and nudged her thighs wider, wide enough that the breadth of his shoulders kept them restrained. He realized his body’s width was a perfect fit between her legs. Maria’s thighs fought to squeeze together again. He smirked, triumph in his eyes. She was falling. Falling, madly and deeply, into his trap.

Licking his lips, Raphael massaged the folds of Maria’s pussy and flicked her clit with his tongue. The cry that ripped from Maria’s throat was nothing short of demonic. Her angel soul ravaged by his satanic ways. But Maria made sure she stayed still. Her eyes were frenzied, but her stare remained on him. Her fair skin was as white as an angel’s wings. The blue of her irises was the color of the Madonna’s clothes. But there was no Madonna to be found in the room. Maria was his soon-to-be whore, a whore for his cock and touch and every single move he made. A whore for him and only him, his perfectly obedient little rose. Raphael’s black heart filled with heat as Maria’s angelic skin began to wash with red . . . the color of sin, such beautiful, beautiful sin.