Chapter 23
Princess
L ucio makes a noise in the back of his throat before answering. “I just thought you would have told me about your family.”
I still can’t believe he called me. But it’s better than just sitting here and thinking about the way my life is practically over.
“No,” I say as I type in my passcode.
0508DNR.
The screen flickers alive, and I have to blink so my eyes can adjust to the light. Being in the dark is definitely going to damage my eyes, but who the fuck cares? I already wear glasses most days.
“No?” he repeats.
Sighing, I set my phone on the table and put it on speaker. “Yes, Lucio. No. Ever heard of the word?”
He seems to find it amusing because he lets out a deep chuckle before saying, “I can’t say I have.”
Lucio’s sitting in his living room, his phone held up to his ear with one hand, and the other hand is running through his hair.
“Why did you call me?” I ask him.
“I was bored. And you’re more interesting than staring at my apartment wall.”
I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve rolled my eyes in the five minutes that I’ve been on this damn call.
“I didn’t take you for one to stay at home and just sit on your couch.”
“So you do have cameras in my apartment. Where are they?” He straightens up on the couch and looks around.
“Look up at the light fixture right in front of you.”
I click through to another camera that gives me a better angle. He gets up from the couch and looks around toward where I told him to.
“A little to the left.”
Lucio turns his head, following my instructions.
His eyes lock directly onto where the camera is positioned, and it feels like we’re making eye contact. I can see the way his eyes gleam, as if there’s an idea forming in that little twisted brain of his.
“Do you have any in my room?” he asks me.
I pause, debating whether to admit that I do or lie.
“I’m not answering that.”
That makes him laugh. He laughs so hard that he doubles over.
“I didn’t say anything funny,” I mutter, annoyed by the fact that he knows I saw the little stunt he pulled the other night.
The silence between us stretches, thick with something dangerous. Something forbidden. My pulse pounds in my ears, drowning out every rational thought.
“Did you at least touch yourself while watching me?” Lucio’s voice is low, husky, the kind of voice that should be illegal over the phone.
My stomach clenches. I hesitate. Just for a second. And that second is all he needs.
“You did,” he says, satisfaction dripping from his words. “I bet you were in bed, wearing nothing but those pretty little panties.”
I swallow hard, my hands curling into fists as heat coils low in my belly. Lucio’s laughter fades, but the smirk lingers in his voice.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” he murmurs, settling back on the couch and leaning back, legs spread wide. His hand drags over his stomach, fingers teasing the waistband of his sweatpants.
I force out a breath, refusing to give him the satisfaction of my silence. “You think very highly of yourself.”
“I know you were watching.”
I don’t deny it, nor do I confirm it. I know exactly what he’s referring to. The way I watched him the other night—half-dressed, sprawled out on his bed, his hand wrapped around his cock like he knew I was there. Watching.
The memory burns, my thighs pressing together as heat floods through me.
“Are you touching yourself now, Princess?” His voice is thick, knowing.
I inhale sharply. “Maybe.”
Lucio exhales roughly, shifting on the couch. “Show me.”
“I think I like making you guess.”
His smug smirk deepens, his free hand dragging through his hair again. He’s restless now, anticipation crackling through him. I watch as his hand moves lower, his thumb dipping under the waistband of his pants.
“Touch yourself for me, Princess.” The words send a shiver down my spine.
I slip my hand into my panties, fingers dipping between my folds. I’m soaked, my skin hot and flushed from his voice alone. My breath hitches, a soft, shuddery sigh escaping my lips as I start to circle my clit.
“Fuck,” I whisper.
Lucio’s jaw tightens, his breath hissing through his teeth. “Tell me how it feels.”
“Hot. Wet.”
His head tips back against the couch, his eyes darkening. I hear the faint rustle of fabric, and then…
“Are you hard for me?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
Lucio chuckles lowly. “What do you think?”
I watch as his hand disappears beneath his sweatpants, his movements slow, deliberate. His breath comes out uneven as he strokes himself.
“Fuck, Princess,” he groans. “You love being a little pervert, don’t you? Watching me. Listening to my voice while you touch yourself.”
I press down harder, my fingers moving in slow, teasing circles. Pleasure builds low in my stomach, spreading outward, making my toes curl.
“You talk too much,” I whisper.
Lucio chuckles, dark and rough. “I’ll shut up if you tell me how it feels.”
I drag my bottom lip between my teeth, my head tipping back slightly as I push a finger inside myself. My walls clench around the intrusion, my body wound tight with need.
“So good,” I breath out. “Tight. Slick.”
Lucio groans, and I watch as his hand wraps around his cock, stroking slowly, teasing himself the way I know he’s teasing me. His jaw clenches, his chest rising and falling with every slow pull of his fist.
“Yeah?” His voice is strained, thick with arousal. “Wish it was me touching you instead?”
I squeeze my eyes shut, my breath coming in shallow gasps as I push another finger inside, curling them just right. “Yes.”
Lucio lets out a ragged breath, his movements growing rougher, more desperate.
His cock is hard in his grip, his thumb teasing over the head where his piercing is, before his hand moves back down, stroking with long, slow pulls.
I watch every movement through the screen, mesmerized, my own pace quickening as I chase my release.
“Say my name,” he orders.
I bite my lip, my fingers working faster, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter. “Lucio?—”
His jaw flexes, his body going rigid for a second before his strokes become relentless.
He’s close. I can see it in the way his abs tense, the way his breathing turns shallow, broken.
“Come for me, Princess,” he demands, his voice thick with dominance.
The words are all I need. My body shatters, my back arching as pleasure crashes through me, stealing my breath. I clamp my hand over my mouth, muffling the soft whimpers slipping past my lips.
Lucio’s groan is guttural, deep and raw, as he comes. His strokes slow, his chest heaving. For a moment, neither of us say a word—there’s just the sound of our breathing, uneven and charged.
Then he lets out a breathy chuckle, shaking his head. “You’re fucking dangerous.”
A lazy smirk tugs at my lips. “And yet you keep coming back for more.”
He exhales a slow breath, dragging a hand down his face. He looks wrecked: his sweatpants hanging low on his hips, his shirt bunched up where he leaned back against the couch. I watch him through the camera, the way his jaw tenses as he regains his composure.
“When am I going to see you?” His voice is calmer now, but there’s something underneath it. Curiosity. Frustration.
I blink at the screen, caught off-guard. “What?”
He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, staring at the floor like he’s mulling over his next words. “You heard me, Princess. When are you going to stop hiding behind cameras and actually see me again?”
I press my lips together. “Who says I want to?”
Lucio chuckles, but it’s dry, humorless. “You wouldn’t be watching me every night if you didn’t.”
I stay silent, my fingers tracing patterns on my thigh, avoiding looking at my screen.
“Let me take you out,” he says suddenly, his voice firm, as if daring me to say no.
I close my eyes briefly. I should’ve seen this coming. He’s cocky enough to assume I’d say yes, that I’d want this to turn into something real.
I do want that, but I can’t.
“That’s not going to happen.”
His expression flickers, a subtle shift of frustration tightening his features. “Why the hell not?”
I let out a breath, glancing back up at the screen and watching as he leans forward, gripping his phone tighter. His eyes are sharp, locked onto the camera, even though he still doesn’t know where it is.
“Because this isn’t something that would last,” I finally say, my voice softer than I intend it to be.
Lucio scoffs, running a hand though his messy hair. “You don’t know that.”
I do. I know exactly how this would end: how they all end.
I shake my head, even though he can’t see me. “Yes, I do.”
His jaw flexes, his frustration palpable through the screen. “You’re full of shit, Princess. You don’t get to say that after everything.”
I exhale slowly, biting my lip. This conversation is going nowhere. And I shouldn’t have let it go this far in the first place.
“It doesn’t matter anyway,” I murmur. “I’m engaged.”
The second the words leave my mouth, Lucio stills. Completely.
I watch the way his hand tightens into a fist against his knee. The way his whole-body tenses, as if the weight of what I just said is sinking in, spreading through him like poison.
“You’re what?”
I tilt my head, watching him, waiting for his reaction.
“Engaged,” I repeat, dragged the word out.
His nostrils flare slightly, but his voice stays quiet, controlled. “To who?”
I smile to myself, letting the silence stretch. “None of your business.”
Lucio lets out a short laugh, but there’s no amusement in it. He looks like he wants to put his fist through a wall.
“You’ve been stalking me for three years, and you have the nerve to tell me it’s none of my fucking business?”
I hum, unconcerned. “That’s right.”
His lips part, like he has something else to say, something sharp, something mean, but I don’t give him the chance. I hang up. I watch him through the screen as he glares at his phone, his jaw locked, his fingers twitching like he’s resisting the urge to call me back.
Instead, he shoves a hand through his hair and exhales sharply. And then, just as I expect, his dark eyes lift, pinning me in place. He can’t see me, but for some reason, it feels like he can.
He still doesn’t know where I am. But I know exactly where he is.