Raphael (Deadly Virtues #1)(53)

The bitch nodded her agreement of the safe word. But in her eyes was excitement, not the shyness or meekness that lay in Maria’s blue gaze. Raphael’s jaw clenched just remembering Maria. Then he thought of her tears. Those fucking tears he didn’t understand but made his stomach ache. “No,” he hissed to himself, forcing himself to push Maria from his head.

He wound the strap around his hand three times, and his lip curled in anger. It felt nothing like Maria’s hair wrapped around his palm. “Fuck!” he screamed as Maria invaded his head again.

Raphael’s always calm hands began to shake as he recalled Maria fisting the bedsheets as he ate at her pussy, drinking down her addictive cum. Roaring out loud, he slammed the strap across the bitch’s back. It landed with a crack. She cried out, and Raphael watched a welt burst on her too-tan skin. Her deafening scream soared to his groin. He hit her again. He pictured Maria on the wooden horse. Her crying, pushing him away. She needed to be punished. He hit her again and again until the slut threw her head back and she came, rubbing her clit on the wooden horse. He stilled. The bitch’s cry of ecstasy was nothing like Maria’s. It wasn’t breathless or soft. It was crass and loud and grated on his fucking nerves.

Raphael threw the whip aside. He pulled down the zipper on his pants and took out his soft cock. He moved it to the bitch’s mouth. “Lick it,” he ordered. “Make it hard.” The bitch moaned in excitement, her cheeks flushing, hungry, starving for his dick. She smiled when she saw the cage that kept his huge cock contained.

“Mm,” she moaned. “Yes.” Raphael fed his soft cock to her waiting mouth. His jaw clenched when her tongue slipped out and licked along his slit. He stared down at her mouth and experienced tongue. But the more she licked, the softer he got. His free hand fisted at his side, then reached out and gripped her hair. He rammed his dick into her mouth, making her take it all, hard and unyielding. Her hips rolled again, her barely spent clit searching for another chance to come. He thrust into her mouth, faster and faster. Waiting for the cage’s silicone bars to squeeze his flesh until a pit of agony swallowed him whole, pushing him into delicious darkness. But he felt nothing. His balls didn’t ache. No blood rushed to his groin.

He wasn’t even getting hard.

“No!” he bellowed, his voice echoing off the padded walls in the room.

Yanking his cock back, he released the bitch from the horse and pulled her by her hair to the wall. “Wait there,” he ordered. The bitch licked her lips, her pupils blown with anticipation. Raphael took a dildo from a drawer and pointed to the rubber-coated bed in the corner of the room. “Lie down.” She did. He handed her the dildo. “Fuck yourself.” Raphael pulled his shirt apart, the buttons dropping to the ground. He took hold of his cock and squeezed as he watched the dildo slip inside her wet hole. She started off slow, teasing, but it only turned him off even more. “Faster. Make yourself come.” The bitch did as he said, fucking herself like she needed cock as much as she needed to breathe. Raphael pumped his cock at the same pace, but fuck all was happening. The red mist that had been controlling him since he left the manor built and built until he was nothing but pulsating, walking rage. He edged closer to the whore and yanked her hand and the dildo out of the way. The dildo hit the floor. Raphael lined up his cock with her hole.

“Finally,” the bitch hissed, spreading her legs as far as they could go.

Raphael wrapped his hand around her neck. Her pulse was racing under his thumb, beating so fast it was jumping from her skin. But his cock showed no flicker of life. Nothing. His tip ran down her slit, and he roared in rage. It was her fault. It was the little rose’s fault. He needed to fuck. To kill.

It was all her fault for ruining him. For the tears. Why the fuck had she been crying?

“Fuck me already.”

Raphael stilled, his thoughts wrenched away from Maria’s pretty pale face and the freckles on her nose, and he was brought back to this room. To this bitch who was pressing her rancid pussy against his cock.

“Fuck me,” she hissed. “Or I’ll get someone who will. Someone who can actually get it up.”

Raphael smiled slowly. But it was anything but friendly. Raphael squeezed at the bitch’s throat. She moaned. But he kept going. He squeezed her neck tighter and tighter, watching the veins begin to rise under her skin. Her eyes widened when she tried to breathe. But Raphael kept smiling, coldly, triumphantly. Taking his hand from his dead cock, he brought his fingers to her neck and smothered her every bit of skin. The bitch began to struggle. And for the first time that night, a bolt of something hit his groin. But it wasn’t enough to make his cock swell. It wasn’t enough to fuck this bitch as she fought to live. He squeezed and squeezed, her eyes growing bloodshot with the pressure. Her hands slammed to his forearms, her long red nails raking at his skin, trying to prize him off. Scratches on his flesh sliced open, blood sprouting to the top. But he didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. Had no intention of fucking stopping.

“Die,” he rasped, and he saw the moment his words registered with the slut. “Die, trafficking bitch.” Raphael laughed when her legs started to flail, when she tried to buck him off, her eyes widening at his words. Her hands were frantic as she scratched and clawed, as she tried to break free. Her face grew bright red. Raphael squeezed harder and harder . . . then with a crack, her bones snapped and he felt her trachea collapse.