Chapter 8 #2
His mouth curves against my shoulder. “Greedy little girl.”
“You built an entire room to make me feel greedy,” I say. “Don’t judge me now.”
“I built an entire room for you. To worship your body.” He reaches for the plug.
I feel him pause behind me.
“Do you want this?” he asks.
My heart thumps. I turn my head enough to see him. His face is dark with restraint, but his eyes are on mine.
I look at the plug. Then at Lucian. “Yes,” I say. “I want it.”
His jaw tightens. The words cost him control.
The knowledge sends a wicked little thrill through me.
“There she is,” he says.
Then I lose all mine. The plug touches me. Cool at first.
Then slick. Then pressure. Harder, firmer this time, not giving any way.
My breath catches.
He stops. “Breathe.”
“I hate when you’re reasonable during sex.”
“This isn’t sex yet.”
Yet.
The word pulses through my pussy.
He presses a kiss beneath my ear. “You are doing beautifully.”
I breathe and he waits. Then guides the plug forward with excruciating patience. Pressure becomes fullness. Fullness becomes a strange, intimate ache.
My fingers clutch the sheet.
“Yellow?” he asks immediately.
I shake my head.
“Words.”
“No. Green. It’s just…” I breathe through it. “You know.”
“Yes.”
The plug eases in another fraction. My body resists. Then gives.
The sensation steals a small sound from me. Lucian goes very still behind me.
“You like that,” he says.
Wicked, wicked man.
I close my eyes. “Don’t sound so smug.”
“I am behaving with extraordinary restraint.”
“You are absolutely not.”
His mouth brushes my shoulder. “Breathe.”
I do.
This time, when he guides the plug deeper, my body accepts it.
Slowly. Carefully. Until the widest part passes and the plug settles into place with a strange, shocking finality.
I gasp. Not pain. Not exactly pleasure either.
Awareness.
A secret held inside me.
Lucian’s hand smooths over my hip. “Color.”
My voice comes out breathless. “Green.”
His forehead rests against the back of my shoulder.
For a moment, he does not move.
Neither do I. I feel full. Exposed. Claimed in a way that is not exactly ownership. More like a secret between us.
“How does it feel?” he asks.
I swallow. “Like I have a secret.”
His hand tightens on my hip. “Good.”
I laugh softly. “Of course you like that answer.”
“I like every answer that tells me you are listening to your body.”
Holding my hips, he rolls me onto my back. The plug shifts inside me, and I moan without wanting to.
Lucian watches my face. Always watching. “Too much?”
I shake my head. “Words,” I say, because I know him. “It’s not too much.”
His mouth curves faintly. “Good girl.”
Heat rushes through me, wet heat that leaves me throbbing. He moves over me, bracing himself on one arm. Still dressed. Still controlled.
Infuriating.
His free hand glides down my side, over my hip, down my thigh. “Tomorrow,” he says, “if something feels wrong, you tell me.”
“Tomorrow?” He has my mind in the clouds.
“Tomorrow,” he says. “Don’t try to be brave, don’t do something rash. Listen to the commands as I’ve made you listen to your body.”
My mouth opens. Closes.
“Patience,” he tells me with a kiss. “My world depends on you making choices that keep you alive.”
My throat tightens. “Lucian.”
I touch his face. “You’re putting a lot on my decision-making skills for a man who thinks I’m reckless.”
His eyes burn. “You are reckless. You’re also smart. And brave.”
“I like working with you.”
“I want to lock you in here until Carlos dies.”
“I know.”
“I won’t.”
“I know.” I pull him down and kiss him.
He holds back for exactly one breath. Then the restraint breaks. His mouth takes mine hard enough to bend my spine, and the plug shifts inside me, sending a startling wave of pressure through my body.
His hand slides between my thighs. The first stroke makes my hips lift. The plug makes every sensation feel deeper, stranger, more intense, as if my body has become a room with another door opened inside it.
“Oh,” I breathe.
Lucian’s mouth brushes mine. “There?”
“Yes. There.”
He rewards me with another stroke, slow and exact. The pleasure builds differently this time. Not wild at first. Concentrated. Heavy. Curling through me in waves that make my hands tighten in his shirt.
“Keep talking to me,” he says.
I reach for his belt. His hand catches mine. “No.”
“Excuse me?”
“Not yet.”
“But I’m listening to my body like you want me to.”
“You chose the plug. You choose whether it stays. You choose your colors.” His hand moves again, and my protest turns into a broken sound. “I choose how long I make you wait.”
That is unfairly hot. Also annoying. Mostly hot. He lowers his mouth to my breast, and the pleasure sharpens. My hips arch, the plug pressing deeper, awareness blooming into need.
Lucian’s mouth. Lucian’s hand. Lucian’s voice telling me to breathe, to answer, to stay with him.
When I come, it drags through me, slow and deep, stealing the air from my lungs. I clutch him, shaking, my mouth open around his name. “Lucian.”
Lucian watches me through every second. He always watches. His forehead lowers to mine.
My body is still pulsing. The plug feels less foreign now. More like heat. Like a secret weight. His hand cups my cheek. Then he kisses me again, slower this time. Deeper. A kiss with teeth beneath it, but not enough to break skin.
When he pulls back, his eyes hold mine.
Dark. Ruined. Terrified.
“Tomorrow,” he says, “when you feel this, you remember me.”
Can’t. Breathe. “Lucian.”
“You remember this room. This choice. My hands on you. My voice telling you to stop if something feels wrong.” His thumb brushes my lower lip. “Then you remember that I love you too much for you to take risks.”
My chest tightens until it hurts. “I’m not planning on it.”
“You are reckless.”
“I prefer decisive.”
“You are impulsive.” His mouth curves. Then his face turns serious again. “If you want to do something impulsive that puts you in danger, feel this and think of me.”
The plug shifts inside me as if his words make my body aware of it all over again. He undresses. He lies over me, heat and protection. He stares at me as he enters me.
He goes slowly, filling me. The pressure changes, now as full inside my pussy as my ass. Strange, thrilling, everything tensing. He holds me closer, building his rhythm as he goes. The orgasm builds from within now, so powerful it’s almost terrifying.
The room goes blurry at the edges. I come undone, chaotically unraveling in his arms. He gathers me against him afterward, bare skin to muscle, my body still holding his reminder.
Outside, the Icelandic sea keeps trying to break the cliffs.
Inside, Lucian’s hand moves over my back.
Tomorrow, Carlos gets the queen he asked for.
But not the one he wrote.