My Stepbrother's Dirty Little Secret novel Chapter 227

Chapter 227

“I have scars everywhere, Mess,” he whispered, his lips brushing against mine as he spoke, “I’ve been cut, I’ve been burned, and I’ve been shot. We live in a world that bites, and it leaves its teeth in us. You think I’m going to look at you and see anything other than how much I want you?”

He leaned down, nuzzling his nose against the side of my neck, breathing me in.

“You’re so hot,” he groaned into my skin, “You’re sitting here worrying about lines and spots, and all I can think about is how soft your skin feels. All I can think about is how much I need to be inside you.”

He kissed the hollow of my throat, his tongue flicking out to taste me.

His hands slid back down to the ruined dress, his fingers hooking into the torn silk. “I’m the one who wanted you first, Mess. Not the other way around. I’m the one who made the deal to have you, and I want you just like this. Messy, and real. You’re the most beautiful woman in this house, and I’m not letting you go… not until I’ve had every single inch of you.”

A spark of confidence flickered in my chest, blooming into a heat that made my heart race for a different reason. 1 didn’t hide anymore. I tilted my head back, a small smile touching my lips, and I raised my face off the mattress to meet him.

The second our lips touched, Raphael went feral.

He literally attacked my mouth that made me gasp. It was crazy and frantic motion, his teeth grazed my lips, and his tongue pushed deep, claiming every corner of my mouth with a force that left me lightheaded.

He pulled back for a fraction of a second, his lips still brushing against mine.

“I can’t get enough,” he whispered directly into my mouth, “I can’t stop kissing you, Gianna. I could eat you alive and it still wouldn’t be enough.”

He went still.

There were the slight, red burns on the tops of my thighs, the ones that still stung with a dull heat. Near them were a few purplish bruises. And scattered across the pale skin were the faint, thin white lines, the old scars of cuts that had long since healed but never really went away.

I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the sound of him pulling away. Instead, I felt his warm hands soften their grip on my knees. He leaned in closer, his dark head dipping down.

Slowly, he pressed his lips to the inside of my thigh, right next to the freshest burn. He kissed the reddened skin with a tenderness that made my heart ache, his tongue darting out to lick the marks as if he could taste my pain and swallow it whole. He moved upward, licking a path across the faint white scars and the bruises that were still tender to the touch. He treated my skin like it was sacred, his stubble grazing my inner thighs until I was shaking for a completely different reason.