10. Lucrezia
Chapter 10
Lucrezia
F or five years, all I saw were pious faces—men and women who looked at me with disdain and disgust, their lips curled in perpetual sneers of moral superiority.
One friar bent to my will a couple of years back, his resistance crumbling after months of subtle temptation. In the middle of cumming inside me, a nun walked through the door and screamed bloody murder, her shrill voice echoing through the stone corridors like a demonic chorus. He was defrocked a day later, cast out into the world in shame, and Mother Superior beat me black and blue with a cane that left scars crisscrossing my back, permanent reminders of her righteous fury etched into my flesh.
For five years, I was untouched, isolated in my own personal purgatory. I was deprived of the warmth of a loving touch, forced to hold myself whenever I needed comfort, wrapping my arms around my body in the darkness of my room like a child seeking solace from nightmares.
Even the friar didn’t touch me with love or reverence; he touched me with hatred and fear, blaming me for leading him into sin as if I were the serpent in his garden of Eden. His fingers were cold against my skin, trembling with desire and self-loathing, a contradiction that left me feeling hollow and used.
For five years, no one looked at me the way Raiden does—with a mix of desire, possession, lust, and need. His gaze strips away the layers of isolation I’ve wrapped around myself like armor, leaving me raw and exposed most deliciously.
I could find a man to fuck me if that’s all I wanted; there are always desperate souls in dark corners willing to take what they can get. If all I needed was an orgasm, I could give it to myself, fingers moving in practiced motions until my body shuddered with empty pleasure.
But I need more than a casual fuck and release; I need someone to remind me of humanity, to pull me back from the precipice of numbness where I’ve been teetering for far too long. And that someone is Raiden.
He kisses me with desperation and aggression, biting my lip while sucking the air from my lungs until stars dance behind my closed eyelids. His hands skate across every inch of my exposed body, bringing goosebumps to my biceps while hardening my nipples into aching peaks beneath my bra.
Raiden is not the friar; he does not need me to lead him into temptation—he embodies it wholly and completely. He is sin incarnate, taking pleasure and pain from my body in equal measure, each sensation amplifying the other until I can’t tell them apart.
When his lips abandon mine, they leave a trail of kisses and bruises down the side of my throat, marking me like property, each bite a claim staked in flesh and blood. The possessiveness in his touch speaks volumes more than words ever could, and I welcome every burning brand he sears into my skin.
“This doesn’t mean we’re together,” he whispers against my collarbone, his voice like tires rolling over grave—rough, threatening, and deliciously dark. His teeth graze the sensitive skin there, a reminder of the damage he could inflict if he chose.
I grab his hair, twisting my fingers into the locks until he hisses with pain and is forced to look at me. The sharp angle makes his jaw clench, pupils dilating with a mixture of fury and desire that sets my blood on fire. I don’t want a relationship any more than he does. “Don’t talk to me unless you’re calling me a filthy slut, do you understand?” The words come out as a command, and I can feel his body tense with anticipation against mine.
Raiden understands the assignment. A second later, his hand snakes out to capture my wrist, fingers finding and tightening around the pressure point until my grip goes slack, and I’m forced to release him. As he draws to his full height, towering over me with predatory grace, he brings my palm to his lips and kisses it with deceptive tenderness. “I gifted you gentleness because of your story and Priest. But if you don’t want it, I’ll go back to being the monster instead of the man.”
My fingers tingle, going numb in his grip, nerve endings protesting the precise pressure he applies. “I don’t want your pity or your kindness or whatever the hell it is you think I need ,” I growl, defiance burning bright in my chest despite my compromised position. “I’m not a fragile little girl, and I am no one’s victim. Give me your passion, your violence, your primal desire. Give me something that makes me stronger. Something that burns away the weakness and leaves steel in its place.”
He releases my hand, dropping to his knees before me to unbutton my jeans. Raiden wastes no time dragging them down my thighs and helping me out of them, tossing them into the hallway with discarded interest. “I’m going to tongue fuck your pretty cunt until you’re reduced to nothing but whimpers and pleas for mercy. And then,” he looks up at me, making eye contact as he hooks his fingers into the hem of my panties and begins to slide them off, “when you’re soaked and overstimulated, when your body is begging for respite, and you’re pleading for me to stop, I’m going to demand more than just your surrender. I’m going to make you promise me the world because I don’t want to be given half-hearted loyalty and trust. I take what I deserve, and I deserve nothing less than your absolute devotion.”
“What are you waiting for?” I tilt my head, feeling a shiver of anticipation race down my spine at his dark promises. “Make me beg.”