Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 102901 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102901 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
“Yes.”
Maria stumbled back. Her back hit the far wall. “Did . . .” Maria met his eyes. “Did you have sex with her?”
Raphael curled his lip just remembering that night. “No.”
Maria went to turn her head again, then suddenly moved from the wall. “That night,” she whispered. “The night you couldn’t get hard.” Raphael’s jaw clenched. “The night I said those words. The safe words. Red rose.” Maria started shaking her head. “That was it, wasn’t it? When you left . . . you left to kill her. When you returned, you had scratch marks on your skin.”
“She was evil. She trafficked kids. She deserved to die.”
Maria ran her hands down her face. “All life is sacred.”
“It’s not,” he snarled, feeling his rage begin to build.
“It is!” Maria argued. Raphael raced across the room and took hold of her shoulders. He spun her around. “These women . . . These women raped kids, sold kids, whored them out for money.” Raphael couldn’t keep hold of his temper. He felt himself being forced to his knees, the priest’s hands across his chest, touching his cock, forcing him to the floor . . . Raphael hit his head to rid himself of the image. Maria stumbled away, but Raphael kept hitting his head. He needed the images from his fucking head. Images put there by people like the pieces of shit on his wall. By people who used kids, raped kids.
Fucked them, fucked them, fucked them! His hand was yanked away, and he moved. He pushed the person against the wall, ready to kill. “My lord, it’s me.” But he was lost to the red mist of rage. “Raphael.” A soft voice cut through his head, which was trapped in the torture room, being pinned to the floor by the priest. “Come back to me,” the voice whispered. “Come back to me.”
Raphael blinked, his chest heaving, and the room around him shimmered and his vision cleared. He was home. In the manor . . . and there was Maria. Maria before him, blue eyes shining with tears. Her hand slowly came to his cheek. “You’re here with me.” Raphael’s muscles twitched in exertion. “I’m here.” Raphael followed the rising and falling of Maria’s controlled breaths. She stepped closer to him, closer and closer until her chest was flush against his.
He groaned at her warmth. At the way she numbed the stabbing memories in his head. Soothed the ache in his chest. “It’s okay . . . it’s okay.”
Raphael held her close, wrapping his arms around her back.
“I am a novitiate, Raphael.”
Raphael stood stock-still as he held Maria. He didn’t know what that was, but his rose sounded serious. He pulled back to look at her face, and Maria took hold of his hands. “Before I came here . . . I was training to be a nun. I was close to taking final vows.”
Raphael’s eyes flared, and blood soared through his tight muscles, bringing them to life. “Chaste,” he said, excitement mounting in his chest. “That’s why you were chaste. Pure.”
“Until I gave myself to you,” Maria said.
Raphael thought of her moaning his name. Thought of her pale skin and slim body. Thought of the customized coffin and how Maria would look flawless within it, sleeping for eternity, forever in Raphael’s room. His shrine caught his eye, and uncontained excitement built inside him. She was in his arms. The one.
Raphael leaned forward and cupped Maria’s cheeks. “I am going to kill you, little rose. Do you understand?”
Maria’s eyes widened for a minute, before they closed and she took a long, calming breath. “Yes, my lord.”
“Look at me.” Maria’s eyes opened, and she fixed her gaze on Raphael’s golden stare. “Someday soon, I’m going to bathe you.” He searched her face; there wasn’t a blemish in sight. “I’m going to comb and dry your hair.” Maria’s chest rose and fell, her small pert breasts heaving. Raphael smiled softly, like a lover confessing his love to his betrothed. “I will anoint you with the finest oils.” He tucked his nose into her neck and inhaled her sweet scent. “Vanilla and rose. You wear vanilla and rose the best.” Maria’s pulse raced; he could feel it under his thumb. “I will lay you on the bed, little rose. And I will love you. I will worship you like the queen that you are.” Raphael’s eyes closed, his hands still holding her face. “I will kiss you, little rose. I will taste your skin, your lips, and your sweet wet pussy.” He opened his eyes, and he knew his pupils would be dilated at just speaking the fantasy aloud. “I will push inside you, capturing your moans and sighs with my lips . . .” Raphael’s cock awakened and filled the silicone cage. He freed one of his hands and ran it through Maria’s soft wet hair. “I will take this silky hair and roll it in my hands. I will tilt your delicate neck off the bed, then I will wrap your hair around it, around and around and around—three times.” Raphael felt his body grow lighter, weightless. “You will look into my eyes as I thrust deeper within you . . . and then I will pull tight.” Raphael placed his hand over Maria’s neck. “Your cheeks will flush and your eyes will shine. Your lips will part, but no breath will leave your mouth. You will give yourself to me, little rose. Your body will begin to lose its strength as I build your pleasure. Your back will arch, and you will come, come so profoundly that it is all you will feel. You will search for breath, but there will be none to find. And as your eyes begin to glaze, your heart slowing to an almost stop, I’ll come inside you, groaning your name.” Raphael felt the pressure build in his back. His eyes closed, his balls pulled tight, and with a loud groan, he felt himself spill against her leg. His body jerked in the aftermath. His neck was tight with the exertion of pleasure. When his eyes opened, he exhaled a shuddering breath. Maria’s cheeks were flushed and her nipples were erect. Raphael’s hand was still on her neck, his thumb caressing the soft skin as though it were a delicate petal. A white rose petal—Maria’s favorite color.