Chapter 35
Princess
I can’t believe I’m staying at his apartment, like I belong here. No one has messaged me since I left the house a couple of hours back. Lucio is pouring himself a drink, but I don’t touch my vodka. Instead, I watch him. I didn’t know a man could be sexy when pouring a drink.
“Something on your mind?” he asks, walking over and setting his drink beside mine.
“No. Just worried about what’s going to happen after all of this is over.” I admit.
I don’t know why I tell him the truth, but I’m tired of the lying and hiding. He brushes his hand over my uninjured cheek before grabbing my chin and turning my face a little, his gaze roaming over the swollen skin.
“I need to clean and patch that up for you. Just a minute.” Lucio gets up and moves toward his kitchen; I can hear him rummaging around in there.
I take the opportunity to text Kaito and tell him that I won’t be coming back home tonight.
Me:
Hey, Kaito.
I won’t be home tonight.
Kaito:
Stay safe.
I’ll let dad know, because he wasn’t aware that you…
Left.
Me:
Thanks.
Lucio comes back, the first aid kit in his hand. He moves our drinks out of the way before sitting on the coffee table in front of me.
“Come closer,” he says, motioning for me to move forward.
I do, but after he sets the first aid kit down, his tattooed hands wrap around my thighs and he pulls me even closer.
Swallowing hard, I try to avoid looking at his hands, arms, and legs.
He grips my jaw, turning my head to the side, then wipes the area with a disinfecting wipe.
It stings so bad that I wince and try to pull back.
But he holds me in place, presses a kiss on my forehead, and murmurs, “Sorry. I’ll try to be gentle, but it’s going to hurt.”
It takes a couple of minutes for him to finish cleaning the area and patch it up. I don’t know why I do it, but when Lucio goes to get up, I stop him, my hands landing on his thighs and my heart thumping violently against my chest. He clenches his jaw, his eyes darkening.
“I don’t think you know what you’re doing.” His voice is low, almost deadly.
“I just wanted to give you a thank-you kiss,” I say, hoping my voice doesn’t betray me.
He lifts a brow, as if challenging me to prove myself. With my hands shaking, I move forward, pressing my fingers into his thigh, and I press my lips to his. His hands stay by his side. Then I do something I know I shouldn’t: I bite his bottom lip before brushing my tongue over it.
That makes Lucio snap. I let out a yelp when he wraps his hands around my thighs, hauling me into his lap. My legs fall apart and wrap around his waist.
“Don’t.” He nips at the corner of my lip. “Poke.” He pushes his tongue into my mouth, claiming, before he pulls back enough to nip at the other corner. “The fucking bear.”
He sinks his teeth into my bottom lip, his hands moving over my thighs and pulling at the sweats he gave me.
His lips remain on mine, claiming, devouring, his tongue pushing into my mouth like he wants to taste every inch of me.
My body burns, caught between desperation and surrender, between wanting more and knowing I’ll never have enough.
He’s everywhere. His hands grip my thighs, spreading me wider and pulling me tighter against him as I grind down, feeling his cock press against the thin barrier of my panties. Every shift, every slow roll of my hips, makes the heat inside me climb higher, sharper, unbearable.
I whimper, my fingers twisting in his hair—tugging, pulling, needing more. “Lucio?—”
He growls, gripping my ass and rolling me against him harder, his cock straining beneath his sweats. I can feel how much he wants me. How much he’s holding back.
And that only makes me wetter. Needier.
I bite his bottom lip, teasing him, testing him, begging him to snap. Lucio grips my jaw, his thumb brushing over my lips, forcing me to look at him. His dark eyes are heated, wild dangerous.
“You have no fucking idea what you do to me.”
I shudder at the low, wrecked sound of his voice, my stomach clenching, my core throbbing. Then his hand moves between us, sliding beneath my sweatshirt, his fingers skimming my bare skin, teasing, tracing.
“Lucio, please…” I don’t even know what I’m begging for.
But he does. He always does.
He slides his hand beneath my panties, finding my slick folds, teasing me, circling my clit with slow, devastating precision. A broken moan slips from my lips, my body arching into his touch, my breath stuttering.
“So wet for me,” he murmurs, rubbing slow, teasing circles. “I could play with you all fucking night.”
I whimper, grinding against his fingers, chasing the friction, the release that’s already building. Lucio groans and slips a finger inside me, slow but deep, curling just right.
“God, you’re tight.”
My thighs tremble, my hands gripping his arms, my body clenching around him, sucking him in, desperate for more. Then he adds another finger, his palm pressing against my clit as he starts fucking me with his hand, deep and slow, dragging out every sensation.
It’s too much. It’s not enough. It’s everything.
I bury my face in his neck, moaning his name, my nails digging into his shoulders as I ride his fingers, rocking my hips, letting him ruin me. Lucio groans, his free hand gripping my waist, guiding my movements, controlling me even as I fall apart.
“That’s it, baby,” he murmurs. “Let me feel you.”
I’m so fucking close. The tension winds tighter, the pleasure coiling, the pressure building. Then he rubs my clit just right and crooks his fingers deeper, faster. And I snap.
My orgasm crashes over me, violent, uncontrollable, ripping through every nerve in my body. I shake, moan, shudder, my walls clenching around his fingers, drowning in pleasure so intense I can’t breathe.
Lucio groans, watching me fall apart on his lap, his fingers still moving, drawing it out, making me take everything he gives. I sob his name, my body trembling, my mind spinning, completely wrecked.
And he’s still not done. His fingers keep moving, slow and lazy, teasing my oversensitive clit, slipping inside me again, making me gasp, making my body jolt.
“Lucio—”
He smirks, his lips brushing over mine. “One more, baby. Give me one more.”
I whimper, nodding, my body already burning from the aftershocks. But then he presses his palm flat against my clit, rubbing slow, teasing circles, and I cry out, my body arching into him, chasing the sensation despite myself.
“I know you can take it,” he murmurs, his fingers sinking into me again, stretching me, filling me, curling perfectly.
I moan again, shaking, needing, drowning. And then I come again. This time it’s even stronger, deeper, consuming. My body writhes in his lap as I fall apart all over again, gasping, shaking, and moaning his name.
Lucio groans, watching every second, owning every sound, his fingers pressing deep as he works me through it, dragging me down from the high inch by inch.
And when it’s finally too much, when my body collapses against him, spent and trembling, he pulls his fingers from me, bringing them to his lips and licking them clean.
“Fuck, you taste so good,” he murmurs, his voice dark, satisfied.
I whimper, still catching my breath, my body a wrecked mess in his lap. Then he lifts my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze.
“I could have you right now,” he murmurs, his cock still hard beneath me, pressing into my core. “I could fuck you so good you wouldn’t be able to walk tomorrow.”
My stomach flips, heat pooling between my legs all over again.
“Then do it,” I whisper, testing him, tempting him.
His eyes darken. But then he shakes his head.
“Not yet.” He drags his thumb over my swollen lips, his voice quieter now, deeper, more serious.
“I’m not just here to fuck you. I don’t want anything but the real deal with you.
And when I finally take you?” His lips brush over mine, teasing.
“It’s not going to be rushed. It’s not going to be just sex.
It’s going to be me fucking claiming you. Completely.”
My breath catches. The air between us shifts—heavier, thicker, deeper.
I should say something, but before I can, he pulls me against him, tucking me into his chest and holding me close. Like I mean something.
Like I’m his.
And I don’t resist. I just melt into him, letting him hold me, letting myself believe this moment is real.
Because maybe it is.
The room is dark, the only light spilling in from the city outside, washing soft shadows across the walls.
Lucio is asleep beside me, his breathing steady, his arm heavy where it’s draped over my waist, like he already owns me. Like he thinks I’ll wait.
Like he thinks he gets to decide when this happens.
But he doesn’t. If I want him to fuck me, there’s no reason to wait.
I shift slowly, rolling onto my side, my heart pounding in my chest as I take him in—his sharp jawline, the mess of dark hair against the pillows, the hard muscles beneath the sheets. I drag my fingers lightly over his stomach, trailing lower, brushing against the waistband of his sweats.
He stirs, but doesn’t wake. Not yet.
I bite my lip, my stomach twisting in anticipation, in hunger, in something so desperate it makes my skin burn. Swinging my leg over him, I straddle his waist, letting the weight of my body settle over him.
He stirs again, this time sucking in a slow breath. I smirk, rolling my hips against him, grinding just enough to feel the hard length of him beneath me.
His breathing changes. And then…
His hands fly to my thighs, gripping me tight.
“Princess,” he mutters, voice thick with sleep, but there’s a warning in his tone.
I roll my hips again, shameless, slow, teasing. “You said you wanted the real deal.”
His grip tightens, his fingers digging into my thighs, bruising.
“I did.” His voice is rough, dark. “And I meant it.”
I shift, pressing my bare heat against him, feeling the hardness of his cock through his sweats. “Then fuck me.”