6. Tatiana
6
TATIANA
I don’t know what has come over me. But every time Lucian touches me, I find it impossible to stand my ground. It’s like all logic gets thrown out the window because he sets my soul on fire. I should be repulsed by him, the man who killed my father. I hate him—desperately, passionately.
At the same time, my body seems to have completely missed the memo.
Last night’s sex was out of this world—better than anything I’ve experienced before. But I chalked that up to the fact that I haven’t been intimate with someone in years. I have a vibrator to satisfy my needs and none of the drama that comes with sneaking around with a man I have no intention of ending up with. Not to mention, a girl can’t get accidentally pregnant from a sex toy—and it’s much easier to hide.
But if that were the reason for my illogical attraction last night, I don’t know how to explain away this desire as Lucian takes me in the shower. Just seeing him at breakfast made my stomach quiver, and when I came back to the room, I found my thighs slick with the anticipation of feeling him inside me again.
And when he surprised me by joining me naked in the shower?
God, I’ve never seen a more masculine body. Lucian’s the perfect blend of lean and tall and muscular, with rippling abs that flex every time he drives inside me and arms that hold me up with shocking ease.
Even now, as he holds me beneath the steady stream of steamy water, he’s carrying me like I weigh nothing, rocking inside me as I cling to him with shameless need. He feels dangerously satisfying, his cock filling me so perfectly, I can’t decide if he might rip me in half with his thick girth or just blow me away with pleasure.
Tingles race up and down my spine every time he drives inside me, finding that sweet spot that makes me cry out. And every time my clit finds the soft bed of dark, curly hair above his cock, my skin zings with electricity.
“Lucian!” I gasp as a wave of euphoria makes my walls grip his hard length.
“Come for me, tesoro ,” he purrs against my mouth, one arm leaving my waist so his fingers can curl around the nape of my neck. His pace never falters, his cock skewering me again and again as he urges every sinful pleasure from my soul. “I want to feel you come all over my cock, my dirty girl.”
Damn it. His dirty talk should not be this hot, but the possessive desire in his tone makes my stomach shiver. I gasp as my pussy throbs, my nipples so hard they could cut glass as they press adamantly into his hard, broad chest.
And before I know it’s happening, I’m diving over the edge as I climax. A lusty groan rushes past my lips, making my cheeks flame self-consciously, but I couldn’t stop the sound even if I tried. My head is too foggy with pleasure, my veins thrumming with adrenaline as cool liquid relief floods my core. Tingling excitement curls my toes, and my thighs tighten around Lucian’s trim waist as I ride out my orgasm on his cock.
Panting together, he slowly sets me back on my feet, and for a fleeting moment, I feel a sense of disappointment trickle into my gut. Is he done already? I don’t want to admit it, but after last night, I thought he might last a little longer. I didn’t even feel him come.
Then, he turns me—maneuvering my body just like he did last night—until I’m pressed against the steamy shower glass. I gasp at the sudden cold against my breasts that raises goosebumps along my skin. Lucian’s fingers curl in my wet hair, and he turns my head to kiss me over my shoulder as he crowds me against the slick surface.
“Spread your legs,” he commands softly against my lips, his fingers tightening in my hair when I don’t immediately obey.
My core tightens, a shiver of desire racing up my spine at his authoritative tone, and even though he didn’t raise his voice, I’m suddenly incapable of refusing him. So when his foot nudges the inside of my ankle, I spread my legs.
“Good girl,” he purrs, nipping at my ear, and my cheeks burn with humiliation as my heart flutters. I hate how much I like his praise, but every time he says good girl, it makes my skin tingle with anticipation.
I feel his swollen tip, still slick with my juices, slide between my ass cheeks, and my stomach flip-flops nervously as he brushes past my puckered hole. Then he presses between my dripping folds to find my eager entrance.
My hips rock back of their own accord, taking his hard cock inside me, and Lucian chuckles as he pins me more firmly against the glass.
“Greedy this morning, aren’t we?” he teases, then he thrusts deep into my depths.
I sob as the pleasure of being filled by him, stretched to my very limits, chases away all other thoughts. The cold hard glass against my chest and cheek contrasts with the overwhelming heat of his body, the way he surrounds me, enveloping me with his powerful strength. Lucian claims me so completely until he’s all I can think about, the only thing I want to feel.
I like the way his grip on my hair tugs gently at the roots—just enough to know that he has me exactly where he wants me. And he drives inside my pussy with a need that turns my stomach molten. I’ve lost count of how many times we’ve had sex, and still, my body craves more.
“God, I’m gonna fill you up,” Lucian growls in my ear. “I want to leave you dripping with my cum so you’ll be thinking about me when you speak to your men.”
I shiver violently as his free hand slips around the edge of my hip to find my clit, and he circles it mercilessly as he pounds inside me. I want to fight him, to tell him to drop dead—to go to hell. But when my lips part, all that comes out is an agonized moan. It feels so good the way Lucian touches me.
I’ll never admit that he’s a good lover, but God, it’s impossible not to acknowledge it. He knows just the right amount of pressure, just the right amount of possession, to make me crazy and all the while, he’s focused on my pleasure, demanding every drop of it from me.
It feels so wrong to think about standing in front of my men, commanding them about, with Lucian’s cum slick between my thighs. But I won’t have time to pick up any panties before I go speak to them. I’m late already. Which means that’s exactly what will happen. And knowing I’ll be keeping that wicked little secret is all it takes to launch me into oblivion.
I scream his name, and I’m not sure if it was meant to sound like a protest, but it most certainly does not. It sounds like I’m begging as I come all over his cock. Sensual Italian hisses past my ear as I feel Lucian stiffen inside me, and a second later, hot cum floods my throbbing channel.
I tremble, all the strength seeping from my limbs as a deep sense of relief pounds through my veins. My walls throb, my clit fluttering against his magic fingers, and all the while, I take burst after burst of his seed deep inside me. He presses his soft lips to the curve of my neck as he rocks inside me, urging his cum deeper inside my depths. Then slowly, he eases out of me.
Keeping my temple pressed against the glass, I stay where he put me for a little longer, sucking in desperate lungfuls of air. After quickly rinsing off, Lucian steps from the shower and wraps a towel around his hips. His shoulders glisten with water as he casually combs his damp hair back from his face, checking the mirror to make sure it’s in place.
His eyes shift to mine, and he smiles when he catches me watching him. Then, with a wink, he turns to head back into the bedroom. Closing my eyes, I swallow hard in an attempt to suppress the shame that comes crashing down on me—shame for wanting my family’s mortal enemy, shame for finding him so attractive, so appealing, so irresistible.
It was so easy to hate him at a distance. From the safety of my own home, I could cast him as a villain, a monster with no heart, no emotion—only greed and envy for what my father built. Now, it doesn’t feel that simple. Because the thing I thought he was after from the start wasn’t his target at all. At least, that’s what he claims, and it sure as hell feels like I’m his sole focus when he willingly left me in control of my father’s Bratva. Honestly, since I agreed to marry him, Lucian’s entire focus has seemed to be…me. His words might be possessive and dominating, but his actions are so focused on my pleasure, it’s hard to keep my head in the game and my resistance intact.
My time would be better spent coming up with a plan to kill Lucian. But unlike Natasha, I hate the sight of blood. I’ve learned how to endure it over the years because our father wanted me to be strong. It’s necessary in our world to have nerves of steel.
But hurting someone?
The thought makes me physically ill—even if I should want Lucian dead for what he’s done.
I know my strengths. I’m strong when it comes to strategizing. I know how to play the game, but violence isn’t something I learned how to dole out personally. That’s Natasha’s area of expertise, and clearly, he has her mastered as easily as he outsmarted me.
Fighting back tears of frustration, I finish my shower and turn off the water. Then I wring out my hair before following Lucian’s lead. The tile is surprisingly warm beneath my feet—heated to avoid the shock, I imagine.
I quickly dry myself and wrap my plush white towel around me, securing the loose edge between my breasts before heading into the bedroom for my dress. It would seem Lucian’s already gone for the day.
In the quiet stillness of our empty bedroom, I release a heavy breath. I feel like I’m failing in every direction. Failing to protect my sister, failing to properly lead my men, failing to uphold the legacy my father left me…failing to resist my feelings for Lucian.
Because even if I know I shouldn’t, I can’t deny it any longer. I want my husband. With a passion I never knew I could feel for anyone.