Chapter Eleven - Zoe #2
Lukin steps out of the car, moving with that effortless confidence, the kind of power that fills every room he enters. I stay seated, my heart still pounding, my mind spinning with everything that’s happened tonight.
When I don’t move, Lukin opens the door with a sharp tug, his hand grabbing my arm again, pulling me out.
I don’t fight him. I’m too exhausted, too overwhelmed by everything. But my body aches with the desire to break free from his grip, to ask him why—to demand answers. But there’s another part of me, the part that embraces this darkness. It’s getting wet and excited, eager and desperate for Lukin.
We step into the building, and once we reach the penthouse, the starkness of it hits me like a wall.
It’s cold, sleek, and silent, the minimalistic décor giving it the feel of an empty, sterile space.
There’s nothing warm, nothing comforting.
Just steel, glass, and the shadows of his world.
The door locks behind us with a soft click, and I finally can’t stay silent any longer.
I spin to face him, my fists clenched at my sides, frustration bubbling over.
“Tell me what the hell this is about,” I demand, my voice strained with the mixture of anger and confusion. “Why the hell did you drag me here? What do you want from me?”
Lukin’s gaze turns icy, his expression unreadable as he steps closer, closing the distance between us in a way that makes the air feel heavier. He doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t need to. The quiet intensity in his presence is enough.
“You think I don’t know what you’re doing?” His eyes flash with anger, and suddenly, the coldness between us feels like a wall that’s closing in. “You wanted to provoke me. You wanted me to notice you. You wanted to get under my skin.”
My breath hitches, and I open my mouth to protest, but he cuts me off, his voice steady, but biting.
“I’ve been watching you,” he continues, his gaze never leaving mine. “You’re not as innocent as you make yourself out to be. You knew exactly what you were doing when you walked into my club tonight. You knew how to get my attention.”
I freeze, my mind scrambling for an answer, but there’s no denying the truth in his words. He's damn right. I came here looking to get under his skin. But I never expected him to react like this. Never thought it would push him this far.
“You’re wrong,” I whisper, the words trembling on my lips. “I didn’t… I didn’t plan this.”
Lukin steps closer, his eyes narrowing with that same intensity. “I don’t believe you.”
His voice is low, cold, like a warning, and suddenly, all the confusion I’ve been holding on to slips away, replaced by something sharper, something more dangerous.
He doesn’t just want me. He wants to control me.
And I can see it now in the way he looks at me, in the way his presence fills every inch of the room.
The tension between us escalates quickly. I try to take a step back, to put some space between us, but he’s not having it. In one swift motion, he corners me, pressing me into the cold, sleek wall of the penthouse. His hands are on my shoulders, holding me in place, his eyes never leaving mine.
The anger in his gaze is unmistakable, but there’s something else behind it—something darker, deeper, and I can feel it pulling me in.
The heat between us is almost unbearable, and I know we’re not just fighting about tonight.
We’re fighting about everything—the push, the pull, the desire that’s been simmering under the surface since the moment we met.
“You think you can just walk in here, act like this doesn’t matter?” he snarls, his voice a low growl, his words cutting through the air like a blade. “You think I don’t know what you want?”
I open my mouth to protest, but before I can get a word out, he steps closer, his body nearly pressed against mine. I’m trapped, unable to move, unable to breathe without feeling the weight of his presence crushing me.
“I didn’t want this,” I whisper, but the words sound weak even to me.
He doesn’t let me go. His hands slide down my arms, pulling me closer, the heat of his body burning through my clothes, my skin.
I feel like I’m suffocating, but it’s not just from the physical closeness.
It’s from everything else—the raw, unresolved tension between us, the way my body reacts to him despite everything I’m feeling inside.
He’s angry. I can see it in the way his jaw tightens, the way his hands grip me harder. But there’s something else, something so powerful in the way he looks at me, something I can’t ignore.
His gaze darkens, and suddenly, I’m no longer thinking about the words, the argument, the reason I wanted to keep away. All I can think about is him. What he wants. What we both want.
“I should have made you listen,” he murmurs, his voice dropping, almost a growl. “But you made it hard.”
Before I can respond, his lips are on mine, the kiss crashing into me like a wave, fierce and urgent, full of raw, unspoken emotion.
His mouth is hot, demanding, like he’s trying to take something from me that he doesn’t even want to give back.
It’s not just about jealousy. It’s about everything we’ve been holding back—the things we’ve both tried to ignore.
I try to pull away, to stop it, but I can’t. The kiss is too much. His hands are on my body, sliding up the curves of my waist, pulling me tighter against him. There’s no room to think, no space to question. My body betrays me, responding to him with a hunger I didn’t know I had.
It’s not a beginning. It’s a breaking point.
The kiss, the heat, the anger—everything is mixing together until there’s nothing left but him, pressing into me, demanding me in ways I can’t even begin to explain.
And when I finally pull away, gasping for air, his grip doesn’t loosen.
He holds me, his lips brushing against my neck, his breath hot against my skin.
I know this isn’t just about jealousy anymore. It’s about control, about wanting something I can’t have, about everything that’s been left unsaid between us.
And at this moment, with his hands still on me, I don’t know whether I’m willing to fight it or let it consume me.
“I’m not going to stop this time,” he growls into my ear, causing goose bumps to erupt on my skin.
His lips crash onto mine again, harder this time, and my body melts into him, my hands moving up to his chest, gripping his shirt.
There’s no space left between us. It’s too much.
Too overwhelming. And still, I want more.
He pulls away just enough to look at me, his eyes dark with something I don’t understand but feel deeply. “You’ve been playing with fire, Zoe,” he murmurs, his thumb gently grazing my lip. “And now you’ve set it alight.”
I can’t respond. I can’t think. His words are a warning, but they sound more like an invitation. I don’t know if I’m ready for what comes next, but I’m afraid that I don’t have a choice.
His hand moves to my chin, tilting my head back slightly. His gaze is intense, burning into me as if he’s trying to make sure I understand, make sure I know exactly what I’m getting into.
His fingers wrap around my neck, enough to warn me, but not enough to scare me.
“You’ll do as I say,” he says. “Understood?”
I have half a mind to defy him, but I’m too selfish to deny myself pleasure so I nod. “Yes.”
“Fuck.” He narrows his eyes. “Get on your knees.”
Without hesitation, I sink to my knees. He lets me go and his hands work on his buckle, pushing down his pants and freeing his cock. He jerks himself off, his mouth falling open as he stares down at me. This should be degrading, humiliating, but it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
“Open your mouth.”
My mouth falls open, my lips parting desperately to take him in.
“Wider,” he commands. “Wider, sweetheart.”
I obey, widening my mouth until it aches. He stuffs his erection into my mouth, wrapping my hair around his fist and forcing himself deeper until I gag. I grip his thigh, enjoying the velvety feel of his organ in my mouth. I suck the tip, running my tongue across the head, tasting his precum.
He sucks in a breath. “Oh, that feels good. Good girl.”
His praise goes straight into my brain, and I put all my efforts into giving him pleasure.
His legs shake as I suck him deeper without gagging.
His fist tightens around my hair so hard, it stings, but I don’t stop.
I feel empowered, and I want to remain here, on my knees, serving him, like a good little girl.
He suddenly grabs my arm and pulls me up unceremoniously. I suck in a breath, and he swallows it in a kiss that melts the rest of my resolve. He pushes me onto the couch and lays above me, pushing my dress above my legs, his eyes burning into mine. His gaze darkens when he touches my butt.
“You’re not wearing any panties,” he notes, voice burning. “You came into my club and kissed a guy without wearing panties.”
“I am—”
“Shut up.” He rubs the pads of his thumb against my clit, and I writhe with pleasure.
“What was your plan? To go home with him?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“I would have never let that happen,” he snaps. “Eyes on me, sweetheart.”
As soon as I meet his gaze, he thrusts into me, burying himself so deep, I scream, throwing my head back with pleasure.
“Lukin,” I gasp. “You’re so big.”
“You’re going to take me.” He bites my ear softly. We’re still dressed and our desperation is obvious in our hollow gasps, but this is hotter than being naked. I love it.
“Eyes on me,” he growls, and I meet his gaze again. There’s a passion there that burns hotter than fire. “We have all night,” he says. “I’m going to take you and take you until your brain registers no other man but me. Are we clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
I won’t have it any other way.