Chapter 15
Lucien
The water did fuck all to cool me down or ease the tension in me. At least I no longer smell like a gym bag left in the sun.
I drag a towel through my hair one last time before tossing it aside.
The silk lounge pants slide over my skin as I pull them on, letting them rest low enough on my hips that the V of my pelvis shows. Just enough fabric to keep things informative.
I pad barefoot through the hallway, listening for any sign of her. The house is quiet, but I can sense her presence like a fucking heat signature. She’s here somewhere, probably trying to find dirt on me or a way out. Good luck with that.
I check the kitchen first, then the living room, and both are empty.
Finally, I make my way to the library, and there she is, her back to me, fingers trailing over the spines of my books.
She’s still wearing my name, those fucking thigh-high boots making her legs look a mile long.
Her hair’s down now, those red waves falling past her shoulders, and I want to wrap it around my fist so fucking bad my palm actually twitches.
I lean against the doorframe, crossing my arms over my chest, and just watch her for a moment. There’s something almost innocent about the way she’s exploring, pulling books out and pushing them back in, reading titles and running her fingers over the leather bindings.
“I didn’t know you were so interested in literature,” I say finally, my voice cutting through the silence.
She stiffens immediately, her spine going rigid before she turns to face me. Her eyes rake over me from head to toe, lingering on my bare chest before dropping to the waistband of my pants, following the trail of dark hair disappearing beneath the silk.
“I’m not,” she says, lifting her chin, but her voice has that breathless quality that tells me she likes what she sees. “Just killing time until you decide to let me go home.”
I push off from the doorframe and move toward her slowly, like a predator stalking prey. “Who says I’m letting you go anywhere?”
She backs up until she hits the bookshelf, her hands gripping the edge of a shelf on either side of her. “You can’t keep me here against my will.”
“Can’t I?” I stop directly in front of her, close enough that I can smell the lingering scent of whatever perfume she used. “You seem to forget you’re due for a punishment, and I always deliver.”
“Punishment?” she snorts, crossing her arms over her chest. “What could you possibly punish me with? I’m not a child; you can’t spank me. Lock me in my room or take away my phone.” Her voice drips with sarcasm as she tilts her head. “Are you my dad now?”
“As much as spanking you would be...” I let my gaze drop to her ass before returning to her eyes, “…entertaining, no. I’m going to do something so much worse.”
I watch as uncertainty creeps into her expression. That flicker of fear in her eyes is fucking exhilarating—the way her pupils dilate, how her breathing quickens. I drink it down like fine whiskey, feeling it burn through me and settle low.
“Get on your knees, Little Sinner,” I command, my voice dropping to a dangerous growl. “It’s time you worship at the only fucking altar that matters.”
She stares at me, her mouth falling open slightly. “You’re out of your fucking mind if you think—”
I grab her chin, my thumb pressing against her lower lip. “I don’t think. I know. On your knees. Now.”
For a moment, I think she might actually spit in my face.
“Make me,” she whispers, the challenge unmistakable.
I smile slowly, releasing her chin to trail my fingers down her throat, feeling her pulse racing beneath my touch. “I could. But then you’d never know what it feels like to choose it.”
My hand moves to her shoulder, applying just enough pressure to guide her down. Not forcing but making my intention crystal clear.
“The longer you fight this, the harder I’ll make you work for forgiveness,” I tell her, watching her throat work as she swallows. “And trust me, Seraphina, you want my forgiveness.”
She holds my gaze for three more heartbeats before something shifts in her eyes. Slowly—so fucking slowly it’s almost painful to watch—she sinks to her knees in front of me.
The sight of her kneeling before me, those defiant eyes looking up through her lashes, nearly undoes me. My cock strains against the silk of my pants, the outline clearly visible at her eye level.
“Good girl,” I murmur, threading my fingers through her hair. The silky strands wrap around my knuckles as I tighten my grip, not enough to hurt but to keep her head still.
I watch as her tongue darts out to wet her lips, leaving them glistening in the dim light. My dick jerks in response, and I know she can see it. The power of having her on her knees in front of me is so damn intoxicating.
“What do you want me to do?” she asks, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Pray the rosary and kiss your feet?”
I can’t help the laugh that escapes me. She’s still so smart mouthed, even on her knees. Something in me fucking loves that about her.
“What do you want to do?” I counter, raising an eyebrow.
I can see the war raging inside her, the battle between what she thinks she should want and what she actually craves.
“I know what you want to do,” I continue, my thumb tracing the outline of her bottom lip, “and all the things you’ll say to why you can’t.
” I lean down until my face is inches from hers.
“But it’s just you and I here. No one else.
So why don’t you give in to the little devil on your shoulder whispering in your ear? ”
She swallows hard, her eyes locked on mine. The insolence is still there, but it’s weakening by the second.
“Do you wanna make me come undone?” I ask, voice dropping to a whisper. “Feel the power? The rush?”
Her breath catches, and I know I’ve hit the mark.
“I hate you,” she whispers, but her hands are already sliding up my thighs, her fingers digging into my skin through the silk.
“Hate me all you want,” I tell her, tightening my grip on her hair. “Just do it with my cock in your mouth.”
For a second, I think I’ve pushed too far, that she’ll stand up and slap me across the face. Instead, she hooks her fingers into the waistband of my pants and yanks them down in one swift motion.
My cock springs free, hard and ready, inches from her face.
She stares at it, her eyes widening slightly. I can almost see the thoughts racing through her mind—the moral battle, the desire, the hatred, all of it swirling together.
“This is wrong,” she whispers, but her hand is already wrapping around the base of my shaft. “It’s immoral.”
“Is it?” I ask, stroking her hair almost tenderly.
“It’s disgusting,” she says, but there’s no conviction in her voice. Just the last feeble protest of a crumbling wall.
I trace my thumb along her bottom lip. “Then why are you licking your lips? Why are your pupils blown wide? Why can I see your nipples hard through my jersey?” I lean down closer to her face. “The only disgusting thing is how much you’re lying to yourself.”
Something shifts in her eyes, a glaze coming over them like she’s slipping into another state of mind. Without breaking eye contact, she leans forward, her lips parting. She’ll hate me after this, hate herself and I can’t wait for the breakdown.
“That’s it,” I encourage, my voice dropping to a growl. “Show me how much you hate me.”
The first touch of her tongue against me wipes my mind of all fucking thought. She traces the head slowly, testing, exploring, before wrapping those perfect fucking lips around me and sliding down.
“Fuck,” I hiss, tightening my grip in her hair. “Look at you, taking my dick like you were made for it.”
She moans around me, the vibration making my thighs tense. Her mouth is hot and wet, and she’s taking me deeper with each bob of her head.
“That’s right,” I murmur, guiding her movements with my hand in her hair. “Suck it like you mean it.”
Her eyes flutter closed as she surrenders to it, letting instinct take over.
Saliva drips down her chin as she works me, messy and eager.
The sight of her on her knees, my property hanging off her shoulders, my cock disappearing between those perfect lips—it’s enough to make me lose my fucking mind.
“You’re so fucking good at this,” I tell her, watching her cheeks hollow as she sucks harder. “Born to take me, weren’t you?”
She whimpers around me, her hand stroking what she can’t fit in her mouth. I guide her head faster, pushing her to take me deeper.
“That’s it, choke on it,” I growl, feeling the head of my cock hit the back of her throat. “Show me how much you want it.”
She gags slightly but doesn’t pull away, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes as she takes me deeper.
“You like having your brother’s cock in your mouth?” I taunt, knowing the reminder of it pisses her off and turns her on despite herself. “Such a dirty unholy sinner, aren’t you?”
She whimpers, her pace increasing, and I can tell she’s getting off on the filthy words. Her eyes open to look up at me, glazed with lust, tears starting to slide down her reddened cheeks.
I grip her hair tighter, forcing her to look up at me while her mouth works my cock. The obscene sight of her lips stretched around me, tears streaming down her face as she gags—it’s a fucking religious experience. My personal communion.
“That’s it,” I growl, rolling my hips forward. “Worship properly. This is your altar now.”
She moans around my length, the vibration making my balls tighten. I can see the conflict in her eyes—the shame warring with desire, the hatred fighting with need. It only makes me harder.
“You think Society rituals are sacred?” I laugh darkly, pulling her off my cock by her hair, letting her gasp for air. “This is the real ceremony, Little Sinner. On your knees before your god.”
Saliva connects her swollen lips to the head of my cock in a glistening strand. Her chest heaves as she catches her breath, mascara running down her cheeks in black rivulets. She looks absolutely fucking wrecked, and we’re just getting started.
“Tell me you want it,” I command, slapping my cock against her cheek, leaving a wet mark. “Beg for absolution.”
“Fuck you,” she whispers, but her tongue darts out to lick the head when I bring it close to her mouth again.
“Wrong answer.” I tighten my grip on her hair. “Try again.”
She closes her eyes briefly, and I can see the moment she surrenders. When she opens them again, there’s something different there—a hunger that matches my own.
“Please,” she breathes, voice hoarse. “I want it.”
I trace the head of my cock along her bottom lip. “Want what? Be specific in your prayers, Little Sinner.”
“I want your dick,” she says, the words coming easier now. “I want to taste you.”
“Better,” I nod, feeding my length back between her lips. “Now show me how much.”
She takes me deeper than before, her hands gripping my thighs for leverage as she works me with her mouth.
The wet sounds of her sucking fill the library, obscene and holy at the same time.
I guide her with my hand in her hair, setting a punishing pace that has her gagging and struggling to keep up.
“The Society believes in blood bonds,” I pant, feeling my release building. “But this—“ I thrust deeper, making her choke, “this is a more ancient ritual. Taking me inside you. Consuming me.”
Her eyes roll back slightly as I hit the back of her throat, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she relaxes, taking me impossibly deeper.
“That’s it,” I groan, feeling my control slipping. “Take your communion. Every. Last. Drop.”
My balls tighten as her throat constricts around my cock, and fuck, I’m right there on the edge.
“I’m going to fucking come,” I growl, holding her head steady as I thrust deeper. “Swallow it all like the good little cocksucker you are.”
I feel the pressure building at the base of my spine, that white-hot feeling twisting tighter until it snaps.
My dick pulses as the first shot hits the back of her throat, making her gag and swallow reflexively.
“That’s it,” I groan, pumping into her mouth as she struggles to take it all. “Drink it down.”
After a few spurts, I pull out, gripping my shaft to aim the last few ropes across her face.
My cum lands in thick stripes across her cheek, her swollen lips, mixing with her tears and the black streaks of mascara.
The sight of her marked by me is fucking transcendent. My ownership painted across her face.
“Look at you,” I whisper, admiring my handiwork. “Fucking artwork.”
She’s panting, eyes half-closed, lips parted, my cum dripping down her chin.
Without thinking, I drop to my knees in front of her, gripping her jaw to hold her still.
I lean in and slowly, deliberately drag my tongue across her cheek, tasting the salt of her tears mixed with the sharpness of my own release.
“What the fuck?” she gasps, trying to pull away, but I hold her tight.
I lick another streak from her other cheek, savoring the mix of flavors—her skin, her tears, my cum, her makeup. It’s filthy and possessive and exactly what I need.
“Mine,” I growl against her skin as I clean her face with my tongue. “Every inch of you is mine.”
When I’ve lapped up most of it, I crash my mouth against hers, forcing her to taste our combined essence. She whimpers into the kiss, her hands clutching at my shoulders like she can’t decide whether to push me away or pull me closer.
I break the kiss and stare into her eyes. They’re glazed over, pupils blown wide with a mixture of shame and arousal that makes my dick twitch back to life.
“This is what happens when you defy me,” I tell her, my voice low. “I don’t just punish you. I make you fucking love it.”
She tries to look away, but I grip her chin harder, forcing her to meet my gaze.
“Say it,” I demand. “Say you’re mine.”
“I hate you,” she whispers instead, her voice hoarse from taking my cock.
I laugh, running my thumb across her lower lip, still swollen from sucking me off. “Hate me all you want. Your mouth just worshiped me because once you get out of your head you know who you belong to. You know who your god is. I may be the devil but let’s not forget I’m only your devil now.”