My eyes widened as the pulsing ache at my entrance was suddenly stolen away. Empty.
I scoffed in frustration.
"Why are you stopping?" I yelped between uneven breaths.
Rafael met my eyes with a smile full of intent.
"The clothes. Strip for me." His tone was half sulking, half commanding, enough to blank out my mind. He even lifted his bandaged right hand as if to emphasise it.
Was he seriously stopping because of clothes? I didn't care about that at all. I just wanted him to continue what he had been doing.
I started writhing on the bed, trying to peel off whatever fabric clung to my body, but he caught my wrist and stopped me. He shook his head.
"Stand up." He tilted his head, gesturing for me to leave the bed.
"What? Why?" I snapped. "What difference does it make? As long as the clothes come off."
He only shook his head again without words, that smug smile on his lips making me want to punch him.
