Chapter 17 #2
His skin is warm under my palms, the ridges of muscle shifting as he moves over me.
My fingers explore him in hesitant strokes, mapping the unfamiliar terrain of a man’s bare chest. I’ve never touched anyone like this.
Never wanted to. Every kiss I’ve ever had has been a pale, lifeless thing compared to the fire he pours into me now.
Even the other times Lucian has kissed me, they weren’t like this.
I know I should stop. The sooner he sleeps with me, the quicker he’ll get bored of me, and I’m not ready to be abandoned again. Not yet. Not—
Lucian’s hand slides into my hair, angling my head as his mouth explores mine with slow, devastating purpose. His other hand traces the curve of my waist, the pad of his thumb skimming just beneath the hem of my shirt. The contact is electric, my breath hitching as heat rushes through me.
I try to mirror his touch, letting my hands drift lower across his chest, but my movements are hesitant and awkward, testing the boundaries of something I’ve never done before. My fingertips graze his skin like I’m afraid I’ll break him, even though there’s nothing fragile about Lucian.
My hands tremble, unsure of where to go, outlining the hard planes of muscle and the faint ridges of scars without any real plan—just needing to feel him. He lets me discover his body, shifting subtly under my touch like he’s guiding me without words.
My thoughts scatter, slipping away until I can’t hold on to a single reason to stop. I know I should—that once this line is crossed, there’s no going back—but my body doesn’t care. It’s already his.
The heat between my legs is sharp and insistent, a pulse that won’t let up, pounding in time with my racing heart.
It’s maddening, this ache—hot, throbbing, needy—making it hard to breathe.
I press my thighs together to try to make it stop, but the friction just makes me want more.
It makes me desperate. My fingers twitch against his skin, my hips shifting without permission, searching for something, anything, to ease the hunger clawing through me.
Lucian hums against my mouth, the sound low and pleased, vibrating through me until it feels like it’s in my bones. His lips trail along my jaw and over to my ear, his breath scorching against my skin.
“You’re not drunk anymore,” he murmurs, his voice all dark velvet and wicked amusement. “Which means I’ve fulfilled my gentlemanly duty by not taking advantage of you last night.” His teeth graze my earlobe, sending a shudder through me. “Now, you’re fair game.”
His hand travels higher, to just under the swell of my breast, and my heart stutters so hard it steals my breath.
I don’t protest when his fingers hook under the hem of my top and lift it up, baring me to the cool air between us.
My heart is in my throat, pounding so loudly I almost miss the quiet sound he makes—low, dark, and full of intent.
Then, his mouth is on me.
The first hot, wet pull of his lips around my nipple elicits a sound from me I don’t recognize. It’s high and needy, and my back arches off the bed as if my body has been waiting for this my whole life. His tongue circles slowly, teasingly, before sucking hard enough to make my toes curl.
I’m shaking, clutching at his shoulders without knowing whether I want to push him away or drag him closer. Each flick of his tongue sends jolts of heat straight between my legs, pooling into a wet, throbbing ache that makes it hard to think, hard to breathe.
Something strange stirs deep inside me, low and primal, curling tight like a sleeping beast shifting in its den.
It makes my skin feel too hot, my senses too sharp, my entire body strung tight with an almost aching awareness.
But the more I try to focus on it, to understand it, the more it slips away beneath the tidal pull of everything Lucian is doing to me.
He switches to the other breast, his teeth scraping lightly before soothing the sting with his tongue. My hips roll upward without my permission, searching for relief. My thighs clench together tightly, and the wetness between them grows almost unbearable.
Lucian lifts his head just enough to look at me, his mouth still brushing the sensitive peak as he speaks, his voice a low, mocking murmur. “Why aren’t you slapping me? Or telling me to stop?”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out—only a shaky breath that turns into a whimper when he draws me into his mouth again, sucking deep and slow, savoring me.
His eyes darken as they sweep over my face again before glancing lower and lingering for a second. I don’t have to ask what he has noticed; I know he can smell it. My arousal. Thick and sweet in the air between us, impossible to hide from a man like him.
He smiles against my skin, a slow, provocative curve of his lips that makes me forget how to breathe for a second.
“You’re soaked, Astra.” The words are a quiet, lethal observation, not a question. His breath is hot against my chest. “I can smell how much you want me.”
Heat scorches my cheeks, humiliation and hunger tangling until I can’t tell them apart. I try to twist away, but his hand is already at my hip, holding me in place like it’s nothing, his strength absolute.
“Don’t,” he warns softly, his tone the kind that allows no debate. “You wanted to play with fire. Now, you’re going to burn for me.”
His mouth claims my nipple again, harder this time, his tongue flicking in quick, relentless strokes that make my breath break apart in short, helpless gasps. His hand moves down to grip my thigh, forcing my legs to part beneath him.
“You’re trembling,” he says against my skin, his voice a low growl that vibrates through me. “Is it because you’re scared or because you can’t stand how much you like it?”
I can’t answer. My mind is a white-hot blur, every nerve ending tuned to him, to the way his mouth sucks and pulls, to the heat of his body pressing me down, to the throb between my legs that has me squirming against his thigh without even meaning to.
His mouth ghosts over my breast before kissing the hollow of my throat. Then, suddenly, he says, “Look at me.” The command is sharp, cutting through the haze, and I obey at once, opening my eyes to meet his.
His gaze pins me, blue and burning, reflecting how utterly sure he is of the hold he has on me. “If I keep going,” he whispers now, “you’re going to come undone under me. And you’re going to let me watch every second of it.”
The words send a shock through me, tightening that strange, primal coil deep inside until I feel like I might shatter.
His eyes lock on mine for a long, charged beat before they move down the length of my body. His hand slides up the inside of my thigh, and I tense when I feel the unfamiliar scrape of something sharp against my skin.
A startled shiver runs through me as I realize what is causing it.
His claws.
Before I can react, there’s a swift, tearing sound. My breath catches as my panties give way under the brutal strength of his hands, fabric splitting with ease until cool air rushes against my newly exposed skin.
“Lucian!” My protest comes out half outrage, half shock. “You ruined them—”
“I’ll buy you new ones,” he cuts in, his voice low and sure, like the matter is already settled.
“Better ones. Silk, lace—whatever I want to see on you.” His gaze burns even hotter as his claws skim lightly across my abdomen, just enough to make me shiver.
“And I’ll cover you in jewels until you remember exactly who you belong to. ”
I swallow hard, my pulse pounding in my ears, but I can’t seem to move. The treacherous promise in his tone has me pinned as firmly as the weight of his body.
Before I can gather my thoughts, he pushes my thighs apart and lowers himself between them, his movements slow and deliberate, like a predator closing in. His grip on my legs is unyielding, holding me open for him, leaving no doubt that he’s in control.
The first touch of his mouth against me steals the air from my lungs. His tongue drags over me in one long, devastating stroke, ending in a flick that has my hips jerking.
“Stay still,” he growls against me, the vibration shooting through my core. “You’ll take what I give you.”
I can’t stay still. My hands fly to his hair, clutching desperately as he licks me again—slowly, thoroughly, tasting me like he has all the time in the world. When I try to close my legs, his hands push them wide, the strength in his hold making it clear I’m not going anywhere.
“You taste even better than you smell,” he says between strokes, his voice low and rough. “And I love how wet you are for me.”
Heat floods my face, but his words only make the ache inside me worse.
His mouth seals over me, sucking hard, his tongue working me in relentless, perfect circles.
Every time I gasp or cry out, his pace changes—faster till he senses I’m close, then slowing until I’m whimpering and straining toward him.
The pressure builds, hot and intense, and that strange, restless stirring deep inside me rises with it—wild, demanding, impossible to ignore.
“Tell me you want this,” he demands, lifting his head just enough for me to see his mouth wet with me.
“Yes—God, yes—” I weep, the words tumbling out in a broken rush, mindless and desperate. I’ll say anything if it means he won’t stop.
His lips curl in satisfaction before he lowers his head again. “Then, come for me, Astra.”
The order is my breaking point. My back arches, a ragged cry ripping from my throat as the tension snaps and pleasure crashes through me in blinding waves.
I can’t stop moving—my hips buck against his mouth, my hands fisting in his hair, incoherent sounds spilling from my lips between gasps and sobs of his name.
I’m shaking, babbling nonsense I don’t even hear, every word torn from me without thought, without control.