Raphael (Deadly Virtues #1)(67)

His head cocked to the side. “Which is your favorite, little rose?”

A hint of a smile pulled on Maria’s lips. Raphael’s heart beat in a steady rhythm as he watched her close in on a particular rose. She looked up at him. “This,” she said. “This is my favorite.”

Raphael paused for a moment, a distant, stabbing pain piercing his heart. He cleared his throat and pushed the feeling away. He walked over to Maria. “The white rose.” She smiled and nodded her head.

“It’s so delicate. So beautiful. It makes me feel . . .” She shrugged. “At peace, I suppose.”

“It’s the rose of purity. Of chastity.” Maria’s cheeks flushed. He cut the rose and turned to face her. “It’s also the rose of death.” Heat rushed to his groin. He bit his lip as he pictured Maria in the coffin, holding a bouquet of the most perfect white roses. Maria bowed her head, escaping his gaze. His attention moved back to the white rose. “It was my mother’s favorite too.” Raphael’s finger gently ran over the white petals. But in his mind, he saw only a smashed vase and white petals being consumed by red blood. He heard the echo of screaming and shouting and—

Raphael crushed the white rose in his hand, destroying it. Its ruined petals tumbled to the floor, but he still held the thorny stem in his hand.

She placed her hand on his arm. Raphael looked down and went to yank his arm away. “Raphael,” she murmured.

“Against the wall,” Raphael ordered, voice strict and unyielding. Maria’s eyes seemed to fill with something . . . something Raphael didn’t recognize. Her eyes seemed . . . sad? Maybe. But before he could be sure, Maria walked to the nearby wall, taking her confusing look away. “Hands on the glass.”

Maria did as he told her. “Yes, my lord.” Her subservience caused his cock to fill with blood. The cage pulled tight around his flesh, turning him on even more, as always. Raphael stalked to where Maria stood. He wasn’t going to wait. He needed to fuck. He needed the white petals covered in blood, lying lifeless in the smashed vase, out of his head. Raphael pulled Maria’s sweatpants down by her ankles. He lifted the sweatshirt and bared her ass to his ravenous eyes. He scraped his teeth over his bottom lip at the perfect sight.

Maria’s breathing was heavy. Raphael pulled his cock from his jeans, forgetting the stem still clutched in his hand. He pushed the tip of his dick between her legs. She was already wet. His little rose was always so wet and ready for him. Circling his arm around her waist, Raphael lined up his dick and slammed inside. Maria cried out, but like the good little submissive she was, kept her hands flat against the glass of the greenhouse’s wall. Raphael wasn’t gentle. He fucked her hard and fast. His chest grew tighter when the picture of those bloodied white roses wouldn’t leave his head. Maria moaned, and in minutes he felt her pussy contracting around his cock.

Her head tipped back and rested on his shoulder. Raphael looked down at her bared neck, at the offering, and wrapped his hand around it. That was all it took for him to roar his release, the pain of the cage still on his cock making him come in endless hot streams. He pressed his hand tighter around Maria’s throat. Her eyes met his, and the sight of that blue gaze, her offered neck, and his hand around her throat made him a savage. The wave of pure possessiveness that controlled him had him lowering his head and wrapping his lips around the skin on her neck. He sucked and sucked, leaving red mark after red mark on her pale skin. His thrusts still slammed into her, until he pulled out, breathless and having left a tapestry of bite marks on his little rose’s neck.

Maria’s head fell forward as she caught her breath. Raphael pushed her hair aside and kissed along her shoulders. He kissed her cheeks. Spinning her around, his dick still out and her pants around her ankles, he cupped her face. Her cheeks were red from pleasure; he knew his were too. He couldn’t catch his breath. Seeing the marks on her neck and his cum on her thighs, he couldn’t calm. Raphael smashed his lips to Maria’s. He ate at her mouth, ravished her lips, and dueled with her tongue.

He tore his mouth away on a gasp, groaning when he saw the red rose tucked behind Maria’s ear. “I can’t get enough of you, little rose.” His stomach flipped when a shy smile began to grow on her lips.

He groaned again and kissed her once more. When he went to tuck himself back into his jeans, he saw blood on her inner thigh. His hands faltered. “Are you hurt?” he said, dropping to his knees and running his hands over Maria’s thighs, smothering the faint trickle of blood.

“My lord,” Maria whispered. But Raphael was too busy searching for blood or marks. The cage. Was it the cage? It hadn’t hurt her before. Raphael froze when Maria placed her hands on his cheeks. He glanced up. His eyes widened, instant shock rendering him motionless. He was on his knees. He never got to his knees for anyone. Never again, not since . . .

Raphael let Maria guide his head upward to meet her eyes. Her hands were warm on his face. “I’m not hurt,” she assured him. “It was a thorn from the stem you still held. Just a small cut.” Raphael dropped the stem and laid his hands on her hips, his fingers traveling to the scars on her back. Her breathing hitched as his fingers traced the ruined skin. “I’m not hurt,” she repeated. “Stand, my lord.”

He was on his knees. He was on his knees . . . He’d vowed to never get on his knees for anyone ever again . . .