Chapter 36 Lucian
Lucian
Her hair spills over her shoulder like liquid gold, catching the warm light of the sun.
The frayed hem of my old shirt rides high on her smooth thighs, bare legs stretched out before me like an offering.
Mine. She looks like mine, smells like vanilla and that jasmine lotion she keeps by the bed, and fuck if my chest doesn’t ache just staring at her, all flushed and eager.
“Start from the beginning,” I tell her, my voice dropping an octave as I fight to regain control after glimpsing the explicit page she’s on. “Read it to me. Word for word. And I’ll make sure you feel every single line against your skin.”
Her lips curve, wicked and soft all at once, the tip of her tongue darting out to wet them before she begins reading in that honeyed voice that makes my blood run hot.
The heroine in her book is tied up and made to beg.
With deliberate movements, I mirror the scene, arranging Celeste almost exactly as she describes.
My cock strains painfully against my zipper as she reads about the character’s position in breathless detail.
She’s on her back, so I guide Celeste down against the cool sheets.
The heroine has a pillow beneath her hips, so I slide one under Celeste, tilting her pelvis up in offering.
In my mind, I see her wrists bound with soft rope, her thighs parted and trembling, eyes half-lidded and pleading as she waits for me to take her apart inch by exquisite inch.
A shiver quivers along her spine as I ease myself between her thighs, the fabric of her panties warm and yielding under my palm. My fingers trace a slow arc up her inner thigh until I press into the wet heat already pooling there. Her breath hitches, and I smirk against her skin.
“You’re dripping for me already?” I murmur, the rough pad of my finger nudging just enough to elicit a tiny gasp. “One little book and you’re soaking my hand. You like it that much?”
Her quiet, breathy “Yes—” trails off before she turns back to her book, never faltering over the lines. Good girl.
The next sentence describes one of the men widening the woman’s thighs, teasing her until her thoughts dissolve. So I do exactly that: I part her knees, lowering my mouth until my tongue tastes the sweet shine of her arousal. The salt of her need warms every nerve in me.
“Louder,” I instruct, dragging my tongue in slow, deliberate strokes. “I need you to read louder. I can’t hear your words when your thighs are covering my ears.”
Her voice trembles, but she obeys. Words tumble from her lips in ragged fragments, each syllable punctuated by the subtle stutter of her hips as they jerk against my face. Her thighs quiver, framing me in a trembling, needy cage. With each filthy lick, I murmur praise between her lines.
“Good girl—keep reading. Fuck, you sound perfect like this. So needy, such a desperate little mess.”
Her grip on the Kindle falters, but I won’t let her stop. Two fingers curl inside her, pressing deep, pulsing fast. She cries out, and her back arches as she crashes over the edge. I hold her there, drinking in every shuddering sob.
When I finally pull back, she whimpers, face flushed and hair damp against her cheeks.
The Kindle lies at my side, so I retrieve it and press it back into her trembling hands.
She meets my eyes, her cheeks still tinged pink, and begins again.
Her voice is low, husky, charged with echoes of what she’s already felt.
She describes how the characters are at a hotel and don’t have a rope. So one of the men uses his belt.
The word “belt” catches in her throat, and I feel the pulse in my groin thicken. I scan the room: no rope, but my belt’s buckle glints at me from my waist. In one swift motion, I free it, the leather hissing through the loops. Her eyes part on a sharp inhale.
“Lucian—” she breathes my name as she nods.
“Shh,” I murmur, folding the belt in half so it snaps satisfyingly. “Keep reading. I’ll take care of the rest.”
Her lashes flutter, but she steadies herself. She describes how he binds her wrists behind her head.
I don’t wait for her to finish. I loop the belt around her slender wrists, cinching it just enough to secure her arms above her pillow. She tests the restraint once, twice, and the leather holds. Perfect.
Her chest rises in quick, shallow breaths. Eyes wide, lips parted. “Lucian… how am I supposed to read to you what happens next?”
She tugs at the soft leather, not resisting but craving the sensation. Her stolen shirt clings to her curves. I brush stray hair from her forehead, leaning close enough that she can feel my pulse at her temple.
“How are you supposed to read?” I echo her question with a grin that’s equal parts amusement and dark promise. I trail my knuckles down her ribcage, her skin soft as silk, until she shivers like a leaf in a storm. “I guess you can’t. I’ll just have to get… creative.”
Her lips part, a protest hovering like a hummingbird at the edge of a bloom, but I bend and take one of her nipples into my mouth, the thin cotton of her shirt no barrier to the heat of my tongue.
The sound that escapes her throat is a symphony of need, a raw, primal melody that tells me everything I need to know.
“I wanted to follow the book,” I murmur against her skin, my voice a low rumble like distant thunder.
My free hand trails lower, tracing the curve of her hip, the length of her thigh, before slipping between her legs.
“But you’re tempting me too much, and I’m starting to lose control. I need to be inside you.”
Her head tips back, breathless, the pulse at her neck flutters. “Please—”
“That’s what I thought.”
I grab the neck of my shirt, the fabric rough and worn from years of use, and pull it off in one swift motion, the way I know she likes.
She confirms it with a groan, so primal that I feel it in my cock.
I place the shirt over her eyes, the fabric dark and dense, completely cutting off her sight.
She stiffens, her body taut as a bowstring, but the second my hand closes over her hip, grounding her, she exhales. Relaxes. Trusts me.
“You’re not fragile,” I murmur as I slip two fingers inside her, her heat enveloping me like a brand. My other hand presses against her bound wrists, her pulse a rapid flutter beneath my palm. “You’re strong enough to let go. Let me show you.”
Her back arches, her body a taut, trembling offering, and I curl my fingers, dragging a cry from her that makes my cock throb with need. “Yes, please—you’re gonna make me—”
“That’s the point.” I keep my rhythm steady, relentless, my mouth working over her breast, her skin hot and damp against my tongue. She writhes blind and bound beneath me, her body a landscape of need and desire.
Her whole body jerks when I curl my fingers deeper, grinding against that spot that makes her come undone every time. Her thighs tremble against my shoulders, her muscles taut and quivering, and she’s gasping like she can’t breathe, like she’s drowning in sensation.
“That’s it,” I growl, making my way down her body again, my mouth making a hot, hungry trail against her skin.
I drag my mouth down to her clit, her scent enveloping me, intoxicating me.
My tongue circles her slowly before I seal my lips around her and suck hard, her taste exploding in my mouth like a ripe fruit.
She screams, a primal sound that echoes through the room, her body convulsing beneath me.
Her wrists tug helplessly at the belt above her head, her body arching up off the couch like she’s trying to escape me, but there’s nowhere for her to go.
Not when I’m holding her open with one arm braced across her stomach, my fingers buried deep inside her, and my mouth devouring her like she’s the only thing that’s ever mattered.
Her release slams into her, as her thighs clamp around my head, and her body is a vice of need and desire. But I don’t stop, I don’t even slow down. I feast on her, my fingers relentless, fucking her through the aftershocks until she’s trembling so hard the mattress shakes beneath us.
“Lucian—I can’t—”
“You can. You will.” My words are muffled against her, my voice a low growl, a promise.
She sobs, another climax tearing through her so fast it feels like she never came down from the last. Her voice breaks on my name, raw and desperate, and it makes me harder than I’ve ever been in my life.
By the third orgasm, she’s incoherent, babbling pleas I don’t even register.
Her chest heaves, her breath coming in ragged gasps, sweat dampening her hair, her body slick and gleaming.
Still, I don’t stop, not until she bucks so wildly I have to pin her hips down, my hands rough and demanding on her heated flesh.
When I finally lift my head, my chin is slick with her, her taste a hot, sweet brand on my tongue.
My cock is straining against my jeans, the rough fabric a harsh contrast to the silk of her skin.
I crawl up her body, my movements predatory, my breath hot against her ear. “Do you think you’re ready for me?”
Her blindfolded head nods, tears sliding free, her breath coming in ragged gasps. “Yes, Lucian… please…”
“If you want me to stop, I’ll stop,” I taunt, my voice a low growl, a challenge. I grind my cock against her soaked core through the thin barrier of my pants, the friction a sweet, torturous agony.
She whimpers, shaking her head as she trembles beneath me, but her hips lift, offering herself like the perfect gift she is. I shove my sweats down, free my cock, and line up with her dripping entrance. “Open for me.”
And when I thrust in, in one single motion, her body grips me like a fist. I swear the room tilts when I bottom out, her heat enveloping me, her body a sweet, torturous haven.
“Fuck,” I groan, my forehead pressing to hers, my voice rough and broken. “You feel like heaven. My world. My heaven.”
She gasps under me, my shirt has fallen off her face, but her eyes stay closed, her lashes dark against her flushed cheeks. The belt keeps her wrists bound tight above her head, her body helpless, but the way her hips arch up, desperate for more, tells me she loves it.
I draw back slowly, almost all the way out, her body a tight glove around me, before I slam back in, making her cry out.
“That’s it,” I rasp, my teeth dragging across her throat, her pulse a rapid flutter beneath my lips. “Sing for me. Let everyone know who owns this perfect pussy.”
Her moan shreds into a whimper, but it’s thick with need, her body a taut, trembling offering.
Her walls flutter around me like she’s already close again, her body a symphony of need and desire.
And I fuck her, my body a relentless, demanding promise, her cries fill the room, her body a sweet, torturous haven I never want to leave.
“So fucking needy. Look how soaked you are, glistening on your thighs. All because we tried to recreate a scene from your cozy kinky book.”
“Yes—oh god, yes,” she pants, tugging against the worn leather belt, the veins in her wrists prominent as she strains but keeps her hands above her head, her spine curving until her chest arches high, nipples dark and pebbled in the sunlight.
“Greedy little thing.” With my right foot planted solidly on the cool hardwood floor, I reposition my left leg to drape over her trembling thigh, the muscles in my calf flexing with the effort.
Her free leg, the one that isn’t pinned beneath mine, gets pushed up to her heaving chest, the position tilting her hips upward, exposing the slick, swollen flesh where we’re joined.
“Not satisfied until you’re falling apart, are you?
Until I give you more than you can handle. ”
My calloused hand slides between our sweat-slicked bodies, finding her clit, swollen and hot. I circle it mercilessly with the pad of my thumb.
Her head thrashes against the couch, dark hair splayed like a halo. “Lucian—too much—”
“There’s no such thing.” I press harder, grinding into that spongy spot deep inside her with every deliberate stroke of my cock, feeling her inner walls flutter and clench around me like a vise.
“You can take everything I give you. Every shuddering orgasm, every throbbing inch. You were made for me. Say it.”
Her voice cracks on a scream that tears from her throat as she comes again, her inner muscles convulsing around me in rhythmic waves so powerful my vision whites out at the edges, stars dancing behind my eyelids.
“Say it,” I moan into the shell of her ear as I keep fucking her through it, the obscene wet sounds of our bodies meeting filling the room.
“I—I was made for you!” she sobs, voice hoarse, broken like shattered glass. “Lucian—I can’t—help.”
“That’s it,” I groan, my thrusts turning ragged, desperate.
Her raw, keening cries unravel me completely.
Molten heat floods my spine, my balls drawing up tight against my body, and I bury myself as deep as physically possible, spilling into her with a guttural roar that tears from somewhere primal inside me.
My entire body shakes with the force of it, every nerve ending alight as I empty myself inside her in hot, pulsing waves.
But I don’t let go. Even when my trembling body gives out, collapsing against her sweat-slicked form, I’m still gripping her wrists, still pressed so deep she can’t possibly escape.
I lower my forehead to hers, gazing into her soul as our breath mingles in ragged pants, her lips swollen from my kisses. “You’re mine. Always mine. No book. No fantasy. Just us.”
And when she whispers back, voice wrecked and body trembling beneath me like an earthquake, “Always yours,” I know with bone-deep certainty I’ll never let her go again.