<h4>Chapter 368: Massage From Rafe</h4>


    Eira’s POV


    "It is nothing perverted," he murmured near my ear. "If your mind makes it that way, that is on you. Massaging will help."


    And it did.


    The tight ache that had been nagging at me began to ease under the steady warmth of his hands. I allowed my body to rx once more against his chest, my back resting fully against him, his long legs bracketing me on either side.


    "You seem very skilled at removing bras and giving massages," I remarked dryly. "I wonder how many girls you have done this for."


    "Why do you want to know?" he asked, not even attempting to deny it.


    "I am just curious," I replied, though I could not deny howforting hisrge, warm palms felt.


    "I have fucked countless bitches," he said bluntly.


    I frowned. "That is hardly surprising."


    "I simply fucked them," he continued evenly. "Drank from a few and killed them. But I never cared about any of them the way I care about you. I do not even remember their faces. I never learned their names."


    There was no arrogance in his voice now. No mockery.


    "They were just fuck toys," he said quietly. "You are..." He paused.


    "Hm?" I prompted.


    "Special," he finished. "The one I care about."


    Something softened within me at those words. It felt good to hear them.


    A faint smile curved my lips as I allowed myself to enjoy the massage.


    A soft, involuntary sound escaped my throat, light and unguarded, until I realized it sounded dangerously close to a moan.


    The fuck. My body was being ridiculous. It could not even ept a simple massage without reacting in some other way.


    I quickly covered his hands with mine, stopping him. "It’s... alright now."


    If he continued, I knew very well what my body would begin to crave.


    "Are you sure?" he asked above me.


    I did not have the courage to turn and face him. I simply nodded.


    The next instant, the bastard pinched my nipple.


    A breathy moan slipped from me before I could stop it, my body arching instinctively.


    "Rafe..." I breathed.


    One of his hands moved from my chest to my face, settling firmly at my jaw. He turned my head gently to the side. Then he lowered his mouth to mine, capturing my lips as he whispered against them, "Rx and enjoy."


    "I..."


    "I know what you want," he cut in softly, drawing my lower lip into his warm mouth, sucking it gently. "Let me give it to you. I can already smell you."


    Damn.


    There was no hiding anything from these wolves when desire stirred within me.


    While I was still caught between resistance and surrender, his fingers pinched my nipple again, sharper this time, drawing another gasp from my lips.


    He used that moment to slide his tongue into my mouth, deepening the kiss without hesitation.


    His mouth moved over mine with heated intensity, confident and consuming. He felt so good. So irresistibly passionate.


    Almost unconsciously, I turned my head slightly to the side, adjusting so we could kiss more fully, morefortably, as my body slowly began to give in to him.


    He kissed me as if he had been waiting for this moment.


    His hand remained firm at my jaw, holding me exactly where he wanted me, while the other continued its slow, knowing torment over my sensitive flesh. My breath faltered against his lips, each exhale swallowed by him as though he meant to take even that from me.


    The kiss was no longer teasing. It turned consuming.


    His lips moved with confidence, parting mine wider, tasting, exploring, demanding. I felt the heat of him everywhere. Behind me. Around me. Inside me.


    His hand had already slid inside my dress, unrestrained, ying with the soft flesh of my breasts, squeezing them skilfully.


    A soft whimper escaped before I could stop it, and he answered by deepening the kiss further. His tongue slid against mine in a slow, sensual stroke that sent a shiver down my spine. My fingers, which had meant to push him away, instead curled into his shirt, clutching the fabric tightly.


    The world beyond the ss vanished.


    There was no caravan. No mountains. No responsibilities.


    Only his mouth on mine.


    He broke the kiss just enough to trail his lips along the corner of my mouth, down to my jaw. His breath was warm against my skin.


    "You taste different when you want me," he murmured against my cheek.


    My heart pounded violently in my chest. I could feel every beat between us.


    Just then, I felt his hand glide down from my chest to my stomach, over the gentle curve of my belly, until it came to rest between my thighs.


    A soft, startled whisper escaped me as I struggled for breath. "Rafe..."


    "You want it." His tone held no question, only certainty. He spoke as though he could feel the hunger pulsing beneath my skin, as though my body had already confessed what my lips had not.


    I could not deny it. The ache within me had grown unbearable, a slow-burning need that throbbed with every breath. I pressed my thighs together instinctively, but that only intensified the sensation. When his fingers hooked into the edge of my panties, I lifted my hips slightly, silently granting him permission.


    Without breaking the kiss, he slid the fabric away. His hand returned to me, deliberate and knowing. His fingers traced through my slick folds with practiced ease, unhurried yet devastatingly precise.


    A sharp gasp broke from me against his mouth. My hand flew to his wrist, not to stop him, but to steady myself against the flood of sensation he unleashed. My body trembled beneath his touch.


    He drew back from the kiss and shifted me gently, guiding me into a morefortable position so I could surrender to what he was doing. His fingers continued their slow torment, teasing, exploring.


    My back arched helplessly, the crown of my head pressing against his shoulder. One hand rose to cover my mouth, desperate to stifle the sounds building in my throat.


    "The door at the staircase is locked. No one will hear you," he murmured against my ear. He caught my wrist and lowered my hand. "Let me hear you."


    Trusting him, I let my hand fall. I parted my lips, ready to give inpletely.


    But he stopped.


    A small frown creased my brow as I watched him lift his hand to his mouth. He slipped two fingers between his lips, coating them before withdrawing them slowly. My breath hitched as he guided that same hand back between my legs.


    That’s fucking sexy.


    "You’re wet," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "But not enough."


    Heat red through me at his words. I understood himpletely. My legs had already fallen open for him, inviting him deeper.


    He slid his fingers along my folds once more before pressing them gently inside me.


    "Ahh... fuck..." I squirmed against him as the intrusion stretched me, sharp pleasure mixing with the ache. His other arm tightened around me, holding me steady, unyielding, until his long fingers were fully buried within me.


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