My Stepbrother's Dirty Little Secret novel Chapter 169

Chapter 169

Gianna

“Can I…” I started, as I felt a flush of heat, “Can I get you off in another way? I don’t want to stop, I just… I can’t do that.”

I slid off his lap, my knees hitting the plush carpet between his spread legs. I looked up at him through the lace of my mask, my hands hovering over his tattooed thighs.

“On my knees,” I breathed, “Or with my hands.”

I looked up at him from the carpet, my heart trying to beat its way out of my throat. The power he held over me was terrifying, but the hunger in my own gut was worse. It was a deep, aching void that only he could fill, and I was starving for even a piece of him.

I couldn’t explain the madness taking hold of me, but the logic didn’t matter anymore. I was starving for him. It was a mutual destruction, and for the first time, I was more than willing to let it burn me alive.

“But there are rules,” I whispered, as I reached out, my fingertips trembling as I barely brushed his thighs, “You can’t touch me. You keep your hands on the couch just like before.”

He didn’t say yes, but he didn’t say no either. He just watched me with those honey-fire eyes, waiting for the rest.

“You don’t take off my clothes,” I added, “And I want the lights down. Dimmer.”

He reached over, his arm muscles rippling as he hit a switch on the side of the sofa. The golden glow faded, sinking into a deep crimson.

“And the mask stays on,” I added, my voice shaking. “It doesn’t move. You don’t try to see me. You just… you let me do this.”

I was craving him so deeply it felt like a physical ache in my bones. I wanted to crawl back onto his lap and forget my name, forget my life, forget everything but the way he looked at me.

Raphael let out a long breath that sounded like he was annoyed. He leaned back, his arms stretching out wide until his hands gripped the armrests.

“Darkness and no touching,” he rasped, his eyes glowing like embers in the red light, “Fine. I’m waiting.”

A wave of fear washed over me, but right behind it was a surge of heat so violent I thought I might faint. My stomach did a slow flip.

I looked up at him, my breath coming in short, tiny gasps. Raphael was watching me through his lashes.

“You like what you see?” he rasped.

“It won’t…” the words died in my throat. I stared at the sheer, impossible scale of him, my brain refusing to process the geometry of it, “There’s no way. I can’t… you won’t fit.”

Raphael just leaned back further, his chest expanding with a slow, heavy breath, “I’ll make it fit,” he rasped, “I’l stretch you nice and slow. I’ll make every inch of you learn exactly how to take it.”

The way he said it chilled me to the bone. It didn’t sound like a passing comment or a bit of dirty talk meant for a stranger. It sounded like a long-term promise, a vow spoken by a man who had already made up his mind about keeping me.