Page 13 of Chains of Recompense
His shoulders are broad, waist tapered, his ass model-worthy as he stalks across the room.
With a groan of deep satisfaction, I stretch out on my stomach to watch him, appreciating the tattoos on his back I hadn’t noticed before.
They’re minimal, elegant—cursive script crawling up the length of his ribs and the wordsFamilyandFaithemblazoned along the line of his shoulder blades.
To my surprise, the only symbolic tattoo I see on his body is a tree of life—a distinctly Celtic symbol.
And it occupies the center of his back, the branches of the tree brushing the nape of his neck, the roots reaching to about the middle of his spine.
It’s framed by a circular Celtic knot, the entire image a tribute to her family’s heritage—even though Raf’s distinctly Roman features confirm he’s full-blooded Italian.
Nice tattoo.
The words are on the tip of my tongue as he opens a door and flicks on the light to illuminate a spacious bathroom, but I biteback the comment because the last thing I want to do is draw attention to the fact that I’m Irish.
I hear the sound of running water, then Raf returns, damp washcloth in hand.
Using my hands as a pillow, I watch him return, admiring the perfect cut of him as he settles onto the bed beside me and starts to wipe the cum off my back.
The washcloth is warm and soothing, and it feels dangerously good to have him clean me up after the relentless, passionate sex we just had.
My eyelids slide closed, staying shuttered longer than they should as a smile plays at my lips. “That’s nice,” I murmur.
Raf responds with a soft chuckle. “I might fuck like the devil, but I promise I’m only the son of one.”
That makes me laugh, and I open my eyes to find him smiling, even as his eyes remain fixed on his task.
“There.”
He gives my butt a playful swat as he finishes my ablutions, and I squeal, even as my core warms.
A pulse throbs at the peak of my thighs, and it brings me back to his comment before we got on the elevator, when I heard the pained sound of a woman, followed by a moan of pleasure.
Maybe he wasn’t messing with me when he said she wanted it.
A flicker of curiosity ignites in my belly.
But I couldn’t explore the possibility tonight even if I wanted to.
I’m already sore enough.
I’ll be surprised if I can walk straight on my way home.
Raf stands again, heading back to the bathroom to take care of the washcloth, and I moan in resignation as I sit up, then rise to find my clothes.
“Leaving so soon?”
Raf’s voice makes me jump, and I spin as I tug my dress back up my body, my cheeks warming guiltily as I find him leaning against the doorjamb to the bathroom.
Arms crossed, still completely naked, he looks perfectly at ease as his lips tilt into that charming crooked grin.
“I really should go,” I admit.
He tsks, pushing off from the doorframe to approach me. On his way, he scoops up his pants, slipping into them and buckling his belt before he stops in front of me. “I feel so taken advantage of. Just using me for sex and then taking off once you’re satisfied.” His tone is playful, his hazel eyes dancing, but my heart skips a beat.
“Isn’t that what places like this are for?” I tease back.
Raf hums, his finger and thumb trapping my chin as he steps close, crowding me against the glass once more. “I suppose. Though I’ve never met a woman who was eager to leave once I was done with her. Don’t tell me I’m losing my touch.”
