Chapter 3
THREE
Virelle
My legs feel like jelly by the time Lucan is done fucking me. He plowed into me more times than I can count, letting me rest, before going another round, before filling me with his seed again.
I've lost count of how many orgasms I've had, trapped in the elevator. I can't even feel my bones anymore. I'm so lost in a haze of sexual euphoria, that I feel like I'm floating.
No man has fucked me so many times in a single night. No man has made me come every single time.
I knew Lucan's dominance was special, and I was right. I'm panting and breathless by the time Lucan receives a call from the maintenance company.
"They're here," he says. "Dress quickly."
He helps me put on my clothes, and I let him, because my limbs aren't working properly anymore. I feel his cum leaking out of my freshly-fucked pussy, dampening my panties and making me feel ridiculously claimed.
We've spent hours inside the elevator, fucking until all our pent-up sexual frustration was gone.
But even now, I crave him. I want more of him.
I loved knowing that he stalked me. It doesn't scare me. It makes me feel more desired. I like knowing that a man is obsessed with me, that he needs to be around me, watch me, and touch me all the time.
"You're coming home with me tonight." Lucan puts his hand around my shoulder. "You need aftercare, and I'm going to keep you in my bed."
"I will do whatever you want," I tell him.
He looks at me, a dark look in his eyes. "Are you okay? Your body isn’t hurting?"
"I’m more than okay." I smile. "I've never felt so sexually satisfied before. I didn't know sex could be so intense. So consuming and pleasurable."
He kisses my ear. "You really are innocent."
Before I can interrupt, there are sounds.
People ask us if we're inside, if we're okay, and Lucan takes charge, replying and making sure we get out.
He almost carries me to his car and puts me in the passenger seat.
He puts on my seatbelt and I love how he takes charge, takes care of me while I'm still lost in my post-orgasmic haze.
Once we're in the car, Lucan's hand immediately finds its way between my legs, stroking my pussy through my clothes. I shiver, my body still hypersensitive from everything we've just done.
"Remember," he says, his voice low and dark, "my cum is still inside you. And it's gushing out of you right now, isn't it?"
My cheeks burn hot. I can feel exactly what he's talking about—the sticky wetness soaking through my panties, his semen leaking out of me with every movement. It's incredibly sexy, being marked by him this way, carrying evidence of what we did together.
"Yes," I whisper.
His fingers press harder against my pussy through the fabric of my dress, and I gasp. Every nerve ending feels raw and exposed.
"Good," he murmurs. "I want you to feel it. I want you to remember exactly who fucked you tonight."
The car stops at a red light, and he takes advantage of the pause to slip his hand under my dress, finding the wet fabric of my panties. He strokes me through the soaked material, and I whimper.
"Lucan..."
"Shh. Just feel it."
The rain continues to pour outside, droplets streaming down the windshield in thick rivulets. But inside the car, I feel safe. Protected. His hand between my legs feels possessive rather than threatening, and something inside me relaxes even as my body tightens with renewed arousal.
"Tell me something," he says as the light turns green and he starts driving again, though his hand remains exactly where it is. "Have you always been submissive?"
I nod, struggling to form words while his fingers continue their slow, maddening circles. "Yes. Since... since I discovered it with my first boyfriend in college."
"Tell me about it."
I swallow. "I liked pleasing him. Making him happy. Following his instructions. It felt... right. Natural. After that, I only wanted dominant partners. But they're hard to find."
His fingers press more firmly against my clit through my panties, and I gasp.
"And now?" he asks.
"I've never met anyone as skilled as you in my life," I admit breathlessly. "It feels like a fantasy. Like something I dreamed up but never thought I'd actually experience."
He laughs, the sound dark and pleased. We stop at another red light, and his fingers slide beneath my panties this time, touching my bare, oversensitive flesh. I moan, my head falling back against the headrest.
"I was always into competent career women," he says conversationally, as though he isn't currently stroking my swollen pussy with expert precision. "But you triggered something dark inside me. Something I didn't know was there."
"What?" I manage to ask.
"Your softness. That maternal nature you have." His thumb finds my clit, and I cry out softly. "It makes me crave you. Not just sexually, though fuck knows I want to fuck you constantly. But emotionally. I want... something with you. Something more than just this."
The admission makes my heart stutter even as my body climbs toward another orgasm.
"Lucan, I'm going to?—"
"I know. Come for me again, Virelle. Come all over my fingers in my car."
His words push me over the edge. My pussy clenches around nothing as pleasure crashes through me, and I come with a broken cry, my thighs trembling.
He keeps stroking me through it, prolonging every wave until I'm boneless and gasping.
"Good girl," he murmurs. "Such a good girl for me."
By the time we reach his house, I can barely walk. He carries me inside without hesitation, moving through his beautiful home—all dark wood and expensive furniture—until we reach his bedroom.
He lays me down on his bed gently and begins removing my clothes piece by piece. When I'm completely naked, he disappears into the bathroom and returns with a warm, damp cloth.
"Spread your legs," he says softly.
I do, and he begins cleaning between my thighs with careful, tender movements. I blush furiously at the intimacy of it, at being so completely exposed while he tends to me. But I love the attention. Love feeling cared for this way.
When he's satisfied that I'm clean, he tosses the cloth aside and lies down beside me, pulling me into his arms. One hand strokes my hair while the other rests on my hip.
"I need to ask you some questions," he says. "Aftercare is important, especially after what we just did."
I nod against his chest.
"Do you feel safe right now?"
"Yes."
"Do you feel any pain? Anywhere that hurts more than you expected?"
I consider. "I'm sore, but in a good way. Nothing bad."
"Good. Do you feel emotionally okay? Any regret or shame?"
"No," I say immediately. "I feel... amazing. Satisfied. Happy."
His hand tightens on my hip. "I'm going to do a grounding exercise with you. I want you to tell me five things you can see."
I look around his bedroom. "Your lamp. The window. Your dresser. A painting on the wall. Your watch on the nightstand."
"Good. Four things you can touch."
I reach out. "Your chest. The sheets. Your hand. My own hair."
"Three things you can hear."
I listen. "The rain outside. Your breathing. My heartbeat."
"Two things you can smell."
"Your cologne. The clean scent of your sheets."
"One thing you can taste."
"You," I whisper. "I can still taste you."
He kisses the top of my head. "Perfect. You did perfectly."
The grounding exercise works. I feel more present, more connected to my body and to him. My eyes grow heavy as the exhaustion from the evening finally catches up with me.
"Sleep," Lucan murmurs. "I’m here."
And I do, falling into the deepest, most satisfied sleep of my life.