Although every so often he glanced back as if to see if she was still there, she could tell he was simply observing her body.
Which was entirely fine. She wore no clothes, and he was male.
Now if he had been naked…
After he opened the glass door and they passed through, Wolfgang went deeper into the house with her in tow, moving away from the lounge room where they’d spent most of the previous day. Raffaela smiled.
She walked. Had feet. It was always a novelty, an adventure.
That she lived at all was something to celebrate. If not for Wolfgang’s aborted revenge she would have killed herself.
“The kitchen.” He gestured vaguely at the wall before them, which featured a long countertop with timber cupboards above and below, and a tall steel cupboard that hummed. There was a sink equipped with what she remembered were faucets. Those carried water. No pumping was needed. It simply poured out.
He turned to face her and leaned back against a cupboard, then tossed a towel to the floor before him.
“Kneel.”
Then he simply waited, and she had to decide whether to obey. Obeying appealed to her, so she slowly kneeled, adjusting position until her knees did not hurt.
This was strangely sexual.
His erection was clearly poking at his pants, and she ran her tongue across her lips, teasing and eyeing him. More and more she had come to understand that simply by being before him, a siren was the ultimate temptation to man.
He had no chance of resisting her.
She did not need to sing. Or dance. Or be in the middle of the Ravening.
When this close, she only needed to be.
Even so, she thrust out her chest. It was fun to see his reaction.
He clucked his tongue. “Be good. I’m restraining myself. Today I have a plan to keep you on edge.” Wolfgang’s lips quirked. “And all without me having to touch you very much. You fucked with me yesterday but not today. I have your measure, as Shakespeare might say.”
Shakespeare, she recalled, but he was still famous? Some things endured. And what was this about not having to touch her? It seemed an insult, though she could not say why.
Insults needed answering, and she knew how to reply.
Smiling, she raised her hands and cupped her breasts, feeling the weight of them before she slipped her thumbs over her nipples and revolving them softly, slowly. The brushing friction instantly stirred her. With her eyelids half-lowered, she concentrated on what she did.
“Why did I have to get a mermaid slut?” His gaze drifted lower, fixating on her female parts, pausing to watch her stimulate herself. “Fuck,” he muttered, drawing in a long breath.
There was power in making him crave her. She raised her breast toward her mouth, sticking her tongue out as if to lick herself.
When almost there, with her tongue straining, he groaned.
He leaned over and grabbed her hair, twisting it, making her slide forward on her knees and the towel slid with her. He fumbled to yank down his pants and let his erection spring free. A drop of liquid glistened at the end.
With no further warning, Wolfgang dragged her even further, to shove her mouth to his cock. “Suck like your life depended on it. Which it fucking might.”
Well then. Raffaela smirked. He’d probably felt her smiling against his cock.
She looked up, and while keeping rigid eye contact, slowly encompassed his cock’s head with her mouth, opening wide, slicking over and licking down, stopping at the end of the cap-like head to let her tightened lips pop over and land on the shaft.
He cursed her quietly, perversely.
Then he roughly pushed her head onto himself, up then down again, making her take most of him in, then stopping dead and holding her in place when he slid to the back.
“Damn you.” He stayed motionless, rigid, groin tilted forward. Stalled, with his dick jammed in her mouth, his fingers tangled painfully in her hair.
She inhaled through her nose.
For all of a long, few, violently quiet moments, she had him, owned him.
This was power.
She flicked her tongue over his shaft, around as far as it could reach, then circled back, while sucking, hard.
“Bitch, mermaid bitch.” Gasping, Wolfgang met her eyes and the look in those was the very definition of foreboding. “What you get for tempting me…”
He popped from her mouth, slid out in a second, and hauled her to her feet by the chain.
She protested at the suddenness.
Spun around, she was hoisted partway onto the bench and before the metal sink, with her breasts over the edge hanging into the space of the sink… Poised there, forced to be still. She put her palms to the bottom of the sink.
He wrapped the chain of her leash around and around the faucets, then stepped back and sighed.
“Damn. What a fucking sight. Don’t touch the chain, unless you want your hands tied, and a spanking. Or worse.”
The threats were new. Should she speak? No.
She dearly wished to see what he would do next.
His pants went flying to the side. Reflected light from the pool wrote slurred sunbeams on the walls, the white cupboards, on metal. His shadow loomed as he stepped in. He gripped one cheek of her ass, exposing her then pausing…
A moist stroke of his finger between her lips. One slick, tunneling exploration with that finger, a single pump then withdrawal…
He entered her with an abrupt slam.
Cock filled her from pussy to overwhelmed mind. Her mouth gaped.
God. She forgot to breathe.
Again he halted, fully deep, and he hissed through his teeth, then slammed in again. The thrust pushed her against the sink, and she grabbed the faucet so as not to headbutt it. Swearing, he yanked himself out.
