Chapter 27 The summons II
The cold evening breeze hit Isabella as she stepped out of her chambers, all set to meet with Lucien.
Sam walked in front of her, his lips thin, his face set in stone as he led the way to Lucien’s chambers.
Her heart raced at the thought of meeting with him up close after weeks of deliberately ignoring her and her needs.
What was it going to look like? Was he going to be welcoming? Cold? Or would the sex be transactional?
As she walked, she could hear the whispers around her. Maids and guards whispered she passed and the brave ones pointed at her with their fingers. It was no news that Lucien had sent for her to come perform her duties. The entire court knew why he was summoning her.
Sex.
Sam gestured to the door. “His Majesty is in. He's expecting you.
The meaning of the words was not lost on Isabella. He was expecting her.
She pursed her lips. What was he doing? Was he already naked with his legs spread, just waiting for her so she could climb on top of him and ride him to the moon?
Sam made his way to stand by the door, mounting guard as Isabella stepped inside the room.
The room was dark, the curtains closed and the lights off, in anticipation of her arrival. Her eyes travelled to the bed.
Empty.
He was standing by the window, his shirt unbuttoned, otherwise, he was fully clothed.
He hadn't moved, hadn't acted like she was in the room with him.
“You sent for me,” she said after what seemed like eternity.
“You came.” He acknowledged.
His words threw them back into the silence she was desperate to get out of.
Anger coursed through her veins. “No one disobeys the summons of the king.” She retorted.
“Indeed.” His voice was filled with sarcasm. As he spoke, he moved his head towards the window, making Isabella see him clearly through the small ray of sunlight streaming into the room.
His beard was full. He looked like he had not shaved in days. His amber eyes were swollen and one could immediately tell that they had not seen sleep.
At least not enough sleep to make them get back to being beautiful.
Her stomach clenched as the realisation hit her. She was not the only one suffering. He was too.
“What did he do that was so special?”
The voice drove into her thoughts, making her disoriented for a moment.
“Excuse you?” She was confused.
“What exactly did he do?”
Isabella detected a tone that she'd never heard from him before.
Jealousy.
Lucien was jealous.
“Are you talking about Marcus?” It was no question even though it was posed as one.
“Did he touch you?”
In a split second, Lucien was standing in front of her, his hot breath on her neck.
Isabella sucked cool air. “Was that why you had him reassigned?” She willed her voice to remain strong and not reveal how she felt with him standing so close to her.
“Did he touch you?” Lucien asked again.
Isabella closed her eyes before opening them again.
She moved to take a step back, but Lucien's strong arms stopped her, his palm on her waist.
“And you care, why?”
The words came out harsher than she'd intended.
The words were barely out of her mouth when Lucien reached for her dress, tearing it and allowing it fall, forming a pool at her feet.
“Because you are mine.” He growled.
Isabella whimpered. He really didn't need to do much before she succumbed.
“So, you are jealous then.” She whispered.
“Were.” Lucien corrected immediately. “I was jealous. I no longer am. After all, I summoned you and you came.”
Her breath hitched as he touched the undergarment she had worn. The one he'd specifically sent to her to wear.
“... wearing the dress I picked out for you.” He completed, syncing with her thoughts.
Isabella groaned. She was not going to go down without a fight.
“So, it's all just a game to you.” She muttered.
Lucien was silent, as his fingers circled her neck.
“Depends on the rules of the game.” His fingers continued to trace her body, stopping just below her waist.
Isabella heaved. Unconsciously, she wrapped her thighs together.
“And the game was made by me…” Without warning, he forced her legs open, his fingers finding her clit in an instant.
“I make the rules and you abide by them.”
“I hate you.” She managed to utter.
“I doubt.” His fingers found their way inside her sharply. “Your body begs to differ.” They were out just as fast as they came as he showed her his wet fingers, filled with her desire.
“Why?” Her voice broke. Even she couldn't tell why?
“Why are you doing all of these? I made the move, not him…”
Lucien's harsh voice interrupted her. “I watched you. I felt you through the bond, screaming my name, begging me to take you. You were vulnerable.”
“You are sick!” The words came out with so much venom.
“You think…”
She moaned, unable to continue as Lucien's mouth found her neck, biting into her skin.
Isabella grazed her fingers on his skin in pleasure. Pleasure and pain.
“You are mine. No one else but mine.” His lips claimed hers immediately.
There was no gentleness in the way he'd claimed her.
Her knees buckled and she held tight to him.
“How I've missed those lips,” Lucien muttered between kisses, his hands fondling all parts of her body.
Her dress had been thrown to the farthest part of the room and her hair was undone.
“You've done a really terrible job showing how much you've missed them.”
She managed to utter as Lucien deepened his kiss.
Lucien's groan was guttural as his hands slipped back into her thighs.
Suddenly, without warning, he lifts her and they move to the bed.
“You're dripping.”
Isabella's hands worked his trousers, taking his belt off, then the buttons.
“It's your fault.” She responded, after relieving him of his briefs.
There he was, standing before her, naked.
“You're…” she wandered, lost for words.
Lucien groaned as he slid to his knees, using his hands to part her legs wide open.
“Do not…” Isabllas's voice hitched as his tongue took the first swipe.
“Do not torture me…” she managed to whisper.
Lucien merely groaned, his attention on her dripping pussy before him.
His fingers and mouth worked simultaneously, making Isabella whimper in pleasure.
“Oh…” her voice shook, as she widened her leg and rubbed his hair, in a bid for him to go deeper.
Then without as much as a warning, Lucien turns her over, making her kneel before him, her breasts dangling and her clit exposed.
He walked slowly and intentionally, his cock dangling in her face as she knelt.
“I've thought about this moment for a while.”
Isabella shook, the desire to stretch her hands out, take his cock in her mouth and play with his balls almost overwhelming her.
“You, kneeling down, completely naked, waiting for me to claim you.”
Isabella gulped loudly. He was describing her as his whore.
He stepped back, completely disappearing from her view as he grabbed her hair and without a word, thrust into her.
Isabella cried softly. He was big. He had always been big and she'd liked it but now, he was doing it without a care in the world.
“You are mine, you are my whore.” Lucien groaned as his hips formed a rhythm.
“I’m not your whore.” She cried softly and moaned unconsciously.
“Are you not?” Lucien picked her up, moving her to the door.
“What…what are you doing?” Isabella panicked. Sam was just outside the door.
It was not enough that he could hear the words in the room, was Lucien about to take her in his presence as well?
“Showing the whole world what a whore you are!” His voice was icy.
Isabella whimpered, her hands clinging to the wall.
“No, Lucien, please…” She cried.
He paused, his hands still on her hair.
They were by the door.
“Your toes.” He said, glancing at her hands. “Touch your toes.”
Isabella nodded, bending slowly, till her fingers were on her toes.
“Who are you?” She could feel his member so close to her clit.
“Your…your whore.” She stammered, the tears coursing through her cheeks.
“Good.” He nodded in satisfaction as he thrust in one more time.
“You are mine.”
Then he pulled out, offloading his cum on her ass before walking into the adjacent bathroom.
Isabella stood up softly, looking around.
“Your clothes are all torn.” He threw a robe at her. “Sam will see you back to your quarters now.”
She opened her mouth to speak but he was already gone.
She smiled bitterly as she glanced at her pitiful self in the mirror.
Slowly, she tied the robe around her body and opened the door.
“Ms Thorne.” Sam nodded, his expression signifying nothing.