My Stepbrother's Dirty Little Secret novel Chapter 137

Chapter 137

Raphael stepped forward, his heavy leather shoes clicking against the floor until he was standing right between my knees. He used his thighs to push my legs apart, forcing me to open up for him, to let him settle into the space he had just claimed.

The heat coming off his body was like a furnace. I was trapped between his chest and the desk, my legs draped over his hips.

“Is this what was missing, Gianna?” he murmured, leaning down until his lips were just a breath away from mine. He didn’t kiss me. He just hovered there, tormenting me with the distance, “A little attention? A little reward for being such a hard worker?”

He reached out and grabbed my chin, forcing me to look up into his dark eyes. There was no kindness there. There was only a cold fire.

“You did a good job,” he whispered, his voice mocking and sweet all at once. “You finished your little papers. You stayed up all night. You were such a good, obedient little girl for me, weren’t you?”

The words hit me right in the center of my chest. It was exactly what I wanted to hear, and yet, coming from him, it felt like a poisoned gift. I felt a shameful, desperate ache start to bloom low in my belly. I wanted him to keep talking. I wanted him to keep telling me I was good, that I was enough even if he didn’t mean it.

“You’re so hungry for it,” he hissed, his thumb tracing my lower lip, pulling it down just enough to show my teeth, “You want me to hold you. You want me to tell you that you’re perfect. You want someone to finally give you the hug you’ve been crying for since the moment you walked into my house.”

He leaned in closer, his chest crushing mine, the fabric of his shirt rough against my skin.

“Does it feel good, Gianna?” he asked, his voice vibrating against my lips. “Having me this close? Having me look at you? Is this the ‘kindness’ you were looking for in Aileen?”

I reached out, my hands trembling as I gripped the edges of his desk. I should have pushed him away. I should have screamed. But all I could do was stare at his mouth, my mind a foggy mess of old hurts and new, terrifyingneeds.

The taste of him flooded my senses. He moved his lips against mine with a hungry force that felt like he wastrying to swallow me whole. I reached up, my fingers clawing at the crisp white cotton of his shirt, bunching the fabric into my fists as I tried to pull him closer and push him away all at once.

His teeth grazed my lower lip, sharp and stinging, and I let out a muffled whimper into his mouth. The sound only seemed to make him wilder. His tongue pushed past my teeth, dominating me, claiming every inch of my mouth like it was territory he had just conquered.

Then, his hand moved.

His large, heavy palm slid down from my hair and wrapped around the front of my throat. I felt the heat of his skin, the rough texture of his calluses, and then he squeezed.