Chapter 33
T he moment the elevator doors slide open, Lucian seizes my hand and storms forward, dragging me behind him.
His grip is tight. Possessive. He moves fast—each stride long and powerful—and I’m practically jogging to keep up, my heels rushing furiously across the tile as I trail behind him, breath catching.
“Lucian,” I pant, stumbling a little, still reeling from everything that just happened.
“Shut the fuck up.”
The words are a whipcrack—low and laced with fury. He’s a storm now, thunder in his shoulders, violence simmering just beneath the surface as we reach his office.
He throws the door open, pulls me inside, and slams it shut behind us, the echo of it rattling the glass.
Lock. Click.
The sound final. Inescapable.
Then he’s on me again—turning me roughly, pushing my chest against the wall. My hands splay to catch myself, palms flat on the cool surface as his body molds to mine from behind. His heat surrounds me. His presence swallows me whole.
His hand tangles in my hair again, yanking my head back with a sharp tug that forces a gasp from my throat.
“You’re playing a dangerous fucking game with the wrong man, Sienna.”
His voice is gravel and fire, low and lethal as it brushes against the shell of my ear.
I can feel every ounce of his fury pressed into me—especially the rigid length of his cock, straining against his pants and grinding against my ass with punishing force.
“You let those fuckers touch you?” he growls. “Smile at you? Speak to you like they had a fucking right?”
His voice is dark silk over fury, and I open my mouth to answer, but it’s too late—he’s already moving.
In one furious motion, his hands grab my dress at the neckline and rips it. The sound is loud—violent—as the fabric splits clean down the center, and suddenly I’m exposed. Vulnerable. His.
He rips again, tearing the dress all the way down before yanking it off me and tossing it aside like it never mattered. My bra is next—his fingers snapping the clasp with terrifying ease, letting it fall to the floor without a second thought.
I’m naked, except for my heels.
He spins me to face him, breath shallow, heart pounding. One of his knees slides between mine, forcing my legs apart as his body cages me in.
He’s a wall of fury and heat and restraint on the verge of shattering.
“You think I didn’t see what you were doing?” his hands working furiously to unbuckle his belt. “You think I wouldn’t fucking punish you?”
His pants fall just low enough to release him, and my breath catches again when I see his cock—thick, long, hard . My stomach flips, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe.
Lucian’s hand is back in my hair, yanking hard enough to make me squeal. Pain flickers across my scalp, pleasure twisting behind it.
“You want to let those fuckers near my property?” he growls, dragging me closer. “There’s a price to pay for that, Angel.”
He spits into his palm, stroking his cock with a rough, angry rhythm—and I whimper, knees weakening, knowing exactly what’s coming.
Finally.
But he shakes his head, eyes wild and burning as he leans in, gripping my jaw and dragging his mouth over mine.
“Oh no, baby. This isn’t for you. This is for me .”
His kiss is brutal. Possessive.
He bites down on my lip just enough to draw blood, the sharp tang of copper blooming across my tongue. I moan into it, the pain, the intensity, the way he’s unraveling everything we’ve been pretending not to feel.
He breaks away with a snarl and lifts me— effortless —his hands under my thighs as he pins me to the wall. My legs wrap around his waist instinctively, my heels digging into the backs of his thighs as he lines himself up.
“I’m going to fuck you hard against this wall,” he breathes, voice thick and ragged, “raw, like the slut you are.”
And when he slams into me, I see stars.
“I’m going to claim you with my cum from the inside out, Angel.”
My back arches off the wall, a broken moan spilling from my lips as he stretches me in one savage thrust.
I dig my nails into his shoulders, holding on like I might fall apart as he fills me— completely . The pressure is exquisite, the pain toeing the line of pleasure so perfectly that I don’t know whether to cry or beg for more.
He's thick. Hard. Unrelenting.
And he's finally inside me.
Exactly where I’ve imagined him a thousand times. Exactly where he belongs.
Lucian doesn't give me a moment to adjust.
He pounds into me with savage precision, each thrust a brutal claim. My back is pressed hard against the wall, the cool surface doing nothing to ease the fire burning through my body as he drives into me again and again.
His grip on my thighs is bruising, his hips slamming into mine with a punishing rhythm that makes my vision blur.
“This what you wanted?” he growls into my ear. “To be used like a fucktoy in my office? Dress torn, heels still on, dripping all over my cock?”
All I can do is gasp.
My nails claw into his shoulders, searching for something to hold onto as he fucks me like he’s trying to reshape my soul. The sting of his thrusts borders on unbearable, but I don’t want it to stop—I want it harder. Deeper. Worse.
“Look at you,” he grits, voice feral. “Taking me raw like a good little slut. This is what you are now. Mine. You don’t need contracts, or clients, or mixers.”
He thrusts harder, burying himself so deep I whimper.
“You need me .”
My head lolls back as he drives into me again, and again, and again—relentless. My body feels weightless, suspended between the wall and his fury. I can feel my orgasm building, slow and molten, curling low in my stomach like it’s waiting for permission to detonate.
Lucian’s hand fists my hair again, dragging my mouth back to his as he growls between kisses.
“I’ll fuck you however I want. Wherever I want. You belong to me, Sienna. This pussy—” he slams into me, and I choke on a moan, “—this tight, greedy fucking pussy is mine. ”
The words detonate through me, and I almost come on the spot—but before I can fall over the edge, he breaks first.
Lucian’s hips stutter, a low groan ripping from his chest as he buries himself deep one last time.
He comes with a brutal thrust and a growl of my name—his cock twitching, thick pulses of heat flooding into me.
It nearly breaks me.
He’s still holding me up, panting against my throat, both of us shuddering. My muscles tremble, my orgasm still hanging in the air like a storm that hasn't broken.
He pulls back just slightly, and I feel the mess of us, wet and sticky between my thighs.
Somewhere in the midst of it all, one of my heels fell off—probably from the way he slammed me into the wall over and over like I was weightless. I glance down, dazed, and see the other still hanging on.
I kick it off.
Lucian sets me down roughly, hands still gripping me like he doesn’t trust himself to let go. I’m standing on shaky legs, skin flushed, heart racing, dress shredded somewhere in a pile on the floor.
And then he rips his shirt open.
The buttons fly, one of them pinging off the wall, and he yanks it off with a growl, exposing the hard lines of his chest, the tattoos inked across his arms and ribs, the tension pulsing through every muscle.
He looks like something carved from war and sin, standing there half-naked, flushed and furious, cock still heavy and dripping with proof of what we’ve just done.
I’ve never seen anything so devastating.
And I’ve never felt so claimed.
Lucian's hands come up to cradle my face—those big, scarred hands so capable of violence, now holding me like I’m something breakable.
His mouth finds mine again, softer than before but no less possessive. There’s a hunger in it still, but now it simmers beneath the surface, slow and consuming.
He kisses me as he walks me backward deeper into the office, our steps uneven, my body still trembling from the way he claimed me against the wall.
Between kisses, his words are like heat curling around my spine.
“You’ve been such a bad girl tonight, haven’t you.”
Kiss.
“Flaunting yourself.”
Kiss.
“Touching what doesn’t fucking belong to them.”
Another kiss, harder now, like the memory angers him. His hand moves to the back of my neck.
“I’m going to wreck you, little rabbit. I’m going to show you what it really means to be mine.”
The name— that name—sends a jolt through me.
Little rabbit.
It makes me whimper.
It’s the name the Devil whispered, the one Lucian never used in daylight, never said without the mask. It slips from his lips like a possession all its own, and I realize now—it isn’t just a role.
It’s him.
Lucian and the Devil are the same. Two sides of the same hunger. And I want both.
He reaches the couch and sits down heavily, pulling me forward.
“Face away from me,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough, “but straddle me, little rabbit.”
My breath hitches. I hesitate for just a second, heart thudding, but then I move—climbing into his lap, my back to his chest, my bare ass pressing into his groin.
He’s still hard.
Still ready to ruin me.
One hand snakes around my throat, not choking but holding, a reminder of who’s in charge. The other slides between my thighs, his fingers instantly finding my clit, slow circles that make my hips twitch in response.
“My bad girl needs a lesson tonight,” he says into my ear. “In pain… and pleasure. Don’t you?”
I nod before I can think.
“Yes, sir.”
His chuckle rumbles through his chest, deep and knowing.
He shifts, steadying me on his lap as he leans forward, dragging the sleek coffee table in front of us with a single arm.
“Hands on the table, Angel,” he commands. “It’s time you earn what you’ve been begging for.”
I move as told, placing my palms flat on the table, fingers splayed wide. My knees spread on either side of his thighs, straddling him fully now. I know what I must look like—completely exposed, completely his.
It’s mortifying.
It’s exhilarating.
My clit throbs at the very thought of how he's looking at me now.
He hums behind me, warm lips brushing against the curve of my ass cheek. The kiss is soft. Wet. Almost reverent. Then his hands smooth over me, big palms kneading, spreading, owning.
“Spread your legs wider for me, Angel.”
I obey.
His hand moves to the small of my back, pressing me gently downward until I’m arched just right, my pussy nestled against the rough fabric of his pants.
Then his fingers slide between my legs, spreading my wetness, teasing my entrance. He doesn’t push in—not yet—but it’s enough to make me gasp.
“You’re going to remember this every time you sit down tomorrow,” he murmurs, voice thick with promise. “You want to act like a brat? Then you get treated like one.”
He pauses.
“I’m going to love seeing my handprint on this ass.”
The first smack lands across my right cheek—sharp, loud, expected. My whole body tenses in response.
“Relax, baby,” he purrs, fingers sliding back up my cunt, slow and deliberate.
The relief is immediate. My breath shudders. The sting fades into heat, into arousal, into need.
Then the second smack.
I jolt again—but it’s different this time.
His fingers dip lower, circling my entrance before pushing in.
I moan, collapsing slightly forward, my forehead brushing the table.
He keeps the rhythm—punishing spanks followed by soothing fingers, teasing and working me open. One moment pain, the next pleasure, the next both blending into one spiraling sensation that has me humping his lap, my clit grinding against the roughness of his pants.
The sound of my wetness as he fingers me fills the room—filthy, raw, real .
My body clenches. My breath comes in gasps. My arms tremble with the effort of holding myself up.
Each time his palm lands on my ass, his fingers sink deeper. Twisting. Curling.
“Such a filthy little thing,” he growls. “But you’re being good now, aren’t you.”
“Yes—yes, sir,” I choke out, my voice barely audible.
“That’s right,” he murmurs, thrusting his fingers harder, deeper. “Be my good girl now. Take it. Come for me.”
My orgasm obeys him with no warning, no mercy. I cry out, loud and broken, clenching around his fingers, trembling as my body bucks and arches, lost in the overwhelming surge of sensation.
Lucian holds me through it, his free arm wrapped tight around my middle, his mouth at my ear.
“That’s it, angel,” he whispers. “Just like that. So fucking good for me.”
And I believe him.
Because in this moment, I am nothing else.
Only his.
I'm still straddling him, still facing away—my chest heaving, my thighs trembling—when Lucian shifts beneath me.
His hand grips my waist, steadying me. I feel him fisting his cock again, the thick head sliding against my soaked entrance.
My breath catches at the sensation, the tease of it, how ready he still is despite already having come once inside me.
He groans low behind me.
“Now that you’re my good girl… my Angel ,” he murmurs, voice dragging against my skin like smoke, “I’m going to fuck you good, baby. Just like this. Just like I imagined the first time you sat that sweet ass on my lap.”
A moan slips from my lips before I can catch it.
He thought about me then?
That first day, when I’d perched innocently on his thighs during a meeting, trying to play it cool. He’d looked so composed, so unaffected. But all this time, he'd wanted me. He’d imagined this.
It undoes me.
I reach between us, guiding him to where I want him most—slick and pulsing and perfect. I lower myself onto him slowly, and he lets out a sound that makes my toes curl.
A dark, guttural chuckle.
“My greedy little slut rabbit is fucking starving for my cock, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” I breathe, palming my breasts as I begin to move.
My body rolls over his, hips circling, rising and falling in an unsteady rhythm as I fuck him like I’ve never fucked anyone before.
And I haven’t.
Not like this.
Not where I feel so alive —so wanted, so worshipped and ruined in equal measure.
“You love the way my bare cock slides into your wet cunt, don’t you whore?”
I groan as I clinch around him.
He chuckles. “I fucking knew it.”
Lucian’s hands slide to my hips, his fingers digging into my skin as he matches my rhythm. Then exceeds it. His hips start thrusting up, hard and sure, driving into me from below.
My head falls back onto his shoulder.
He’s so deep.
So thick and perfect and mine.
But when he senses the control shifting—when my hips start dictating the pace—he doesn’t let me keep it.
“No, baby,” he growls into my ear. “I’m taking care of you.”
One hand clamps firm on my hip, the other moves to my shoulder, anchoring me as he takes over completely.
My hands fall to his thighs, nails biting into muscle as he rocks me the way he wants, pulling me back onto his cock over and over until the sound of our bodies meeting is all I can hear.
“You feel that?” he murmurs, voice now laced with something softer—something reverent. “That’s how good you feel wrapped around me. Bare. Wet. Fucking heaven.”
His praise makes my eyes flutter closed because I love us like this. Nothing between us. No more lies. No condom.
Just us.
I’m not worried. Ledger protocols demand contraceptives and regular tests.
And thank fuck. Because feeling him like this, having him like this–I don’t ever want it any other way.
He moves faster now. Deeper. Each thrust pushing me higher, threatening to break me apart. The filthy things he says are softened by the way he says them—possessive and gentle.
“You’re the only one I’ve fucked raw,” he says, and everything inside me shatters. “And I fucking love it.”
That one sentence detonates behind my ribs like a bomb.
The only one.
That’s all it takes.
My body arches, legs tensing, every nerve alight as I fall— hard —my orgasm ripping through me with brutal intensity.
Lucian follows seconds later, groaning behind me, thrusting deep one last time before he stills, his body pressed tight to mine as he spills inside me again.
His breath is hot against my shoulder, his arms wrapped around me like chains. And I don’t want to move. Not yet.
Not ever.
Because in this moment… I don’t just belong to him.
He belongs to me too.