Raphael (Deadly Virtues #1)(55)

Raphael stormed from the room and raced into the bathroom. He threw off his clothes and stared at himself in the mirror. His muscles were strained, and his traps were high from the tension flowing through his body. He fisted his cock over the cage and squeezed. His golden eyes were fixed on his reflection. But nothing was happening. He pulled and tugged and hit his balls. But nothing worked. No blood. No constriction. No pain. He couldn’t get hard without fucking pain!

Raphael turned the shower as high and as hot as it would go. Scalding water pelted his head, washing the taste of the trafficking bitch’s putrid pussy from his fingers and body. Then he stepped back, hair slicked over his forehead and face, and directed the red-hot water over his dick. He threw back his head and groaned as the water scalded his skin, but when he looked down, he wasn’t hard. He backed away from the shower and stumbled, dripping wet, along the tile floor.

What was fuck was happening?

Raphael curled his hands into fists and let his building rage loose. He swiped his arm along the top of his drawers, sending bottles and the mirror crashing to the ground. He yanked out the drawers, his clothes flying across the room and the wooden drawers smashing against the wall. He walked to the fireplace and threw his fist into the picture above it. He did it again, and again and again until his hand was bloodied and the plaster of the old wall underneath collapsed.

He didn’t hear Maria come up behind him. He didn’t see her watching him destroy his rooms. He didn’t even think of her until a gentle hand landed on his back. Raphael swung around, seeing nothing but death before him. Maria’s tear-stained face broke through his fog. “You,” he snarled darkly, and stalked toward her. Maria stumbled back, trying to get out of his path. But Raphael was in a fury, unhinged, one rush of anger from killing anyone who dared get in his way. Maria’s back hit a wall, and he crowded where she stood. “It’s your fault.” He squeezed his defective dick. Maria’s eyes moved down to his hand. “You cried,” he growled, slamming his hand against the wall above her head. “You were crying and said ‘red rose.’ Why were you fucking crying?”

Raphael stepped back and smacked his cock again, but nothing happened. His flesh wasn’t expanding and pressing against the cage. The agony he needed didn’t come. Raphael’s legs weakened, and he had to hold onto the bedpost to keep upright. He tried to breathe, to keep his composure. But this was who he was. He killed and he fucked. He fucked and he killed. They were synonymous to him. One didn’t exist without the other. He pictured hands around necks and scratches on his skin. Pain. Always pain. It had always been pain. The whips . . . the lashes . . . being held down and—

Raphael’s head snapped back as a burst of pleasure shot through his body like a bullet to his heart. He sucked in a quick breath and felt his cock spring to life and push against the silicone cage. Raphael’s hands dug into the wood of the bedpost . . . and he looked down.

“Maria . . .” he said hoarsely, his voice cut like shattered shards of glass. Raphael’s eyes grew leaden at the sight of Maria’s small, delicate hand holding his cock, the flesh swelling second by second. She didn’t move her hand. Just held his dick still as if it would burn her if she stroked it. As though feeling his eyes on her, Maria looked up, her gaze nervous and her skin pale. Her hand shook. But the familiar warmth that Raphael craved was ushering out the panic from his body. “Keep it there,” Raphael ordered as he gripped the bedpost tighter. Maria didn’t move her fingers, just let his cock fill its cage and her hand until the pain Raphael needed began pulsing in his groin, bolts of lightning splintering up his spine.

He wasn’t sure how long he stayed that way, but when the strength returned to his legs, he sat back on the edge of the mattress. Maria went to move her hand, but Raphael reached out and kept it in place on him. He spread his legs and closed his eyes. Maria’s touch was warm—the perfect contradiction to the constrictive pain of the cage.

“I don’t know what to do.” Maria’s timid voice sailed into his ears.

Raphael opened his eyes to the sight of Maria before him, her white dress that showed her body’s small curves, and the yellow rose he had put in her hair that morning. Her hair was soft and smooth and fell in a blond waterfall over her shoulders and back. “Squeeze,” he ordered, his low voice revealing how little control he retained. “Squeeze as tightly as you can.”

A quick exhale leaped from Maria’s shocked, parted lips. Raphael’s eyes were on her, never looking away, as he said, “I order you to squeeze my cock as hard as you can. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my lord,” Maria said, casting her shining eyes down, like the good little submissive she was. Her cheeks blushed, telling Raphael she wanted this. Wanted to touch him and make him come.

“Now,” he demanded. Maria’s fingers began to grip his length harder. Raphael hissed as the familiar needles of pressure began to gather in his balls. “Harder.” He bit down on his lip. Blood burst into his mouth, but he drank it down. Blood and pain and the feel of Maria choking his cock was paradise. “Harder. Harder!” he repeated as Maria’s hand began to shake with exertion. “HARDER!” Maria wrapped her second hand around him. His little rose suffocated him with all the strength she had.

But he needed to be on top of her. He needed her small body beneath him. Reaching out, Raphael yanked on Maria’s arm and pulled her down to the bed. He straddled her waist and hiked up her dress until it bared her pussy and her stomach. “Grab me. Choke me. Strangle the fuck out of my cock,” he snarled. Maria obeyed his harshly spoken order, gripping hard with both hands. When her grasp was almost bruising, Raphael leaned forward, one of his hands on either side of her head. She was panting as fast as he, and her cheeks were flushed. Her pupils were dilated as she watched his face. Watched the hedonistic pain cut through his body like a million daggers being plunged into his skin. “Move your hand. Rub me up and down. Jerk my cock.” Raphael leaned down and licked along Maria’s cheek, down to her chin, and then over her bottom lip. She released a soft moan. “Strangle my cock, little rose. Make it pay for failing me.” Maria pumped her hand up and down over the silicone cage. Raphael’s head rolled back and his eyes closed. Maria worked him faster, her grip tightened, and the cage began to constrict around him. His balls were starved of blood, and his cock’s head began to pulse with the asphyxiation of his flesh. Maria’s touch was frenzied as Raphael’s body thrived off the pain, every muscle throbbing, needing the relief only his release could bring. Then his jaw clenched, and, swallowing the blood that was trickling from his sliced lip, Raphael roared and came. His neck strained and his eyes snapped open, watching the white streams of his release decorate Maria’s unblemished stomach. Twitching, still coming, Raphael tilted his hips until his final spurts of semen coated Maria’s bare pussy. He groaned when Maria’s hole clenched as the cum hit her.