Chapter 2 Untouched
CH-2 "Untouched"
The mansion loomed like a fortress its tall iron gates creaked open as the car rolled in. Guards patrolled every corner with sharp eyes, while workers hurried about their duties. But today, everything stopped.
Lucas stepped out of the sleek black car, his aura cold, commanding, and untouchable. Yet, the moment he walked around to the other side and opened the door for Elana, it felt as if the entire mansion had drawn a silent breath. No one had ever seen their ruthless boss act like this.
He extended his hand. His grip was firm, possessive, yet with a strange gentleness that made her tremble. Without giving her a choice, he guided no, dragged her into the heart of the mansion.
“Please… let me go,” Elana whispered, her voice fragile, quivering like glass about to break.
Lucas didn’t respond. His jaw tightened, his eyes sharp as steel. Every worker and guard froze in disbelief. For the first time, their master had brought a woman inside… and not just inside into his world, his shadows, his very room.
“Prepare a feast,” Lucas commanded his chef in a voice that sent shivers down spines. “And get clothes, everything she will need. From now on…” His eyes flickered dangerously toward Elana, “…she stays by my side.”
Before she could protest, he pulled her up the grand staircase, each step echoing like a warning. Inside his bedroom, the door slammed shut with a finality that made her heart pound. He shoved her onto the massive bed, his gaze dark and merciless.
When the door of his bedroom slammed shut, she stumbled back onto the bed, her breath hitching as he loomed above her.
“Stop crying,” he growled, his tone sharp enough to slice through her chest. His eyes burned, dark and dangerous. “If you want a reason to cry, I’ll give you one.”
Her body trembled. She thought this was the moment he would take her, break her.
But then his voice lowered, startlingly tender, as if it didn’t belong to the same man.
“Don’t fear me, butterfly. I won’t force myself on you. I’m a devil, yes… but not a monster. And you ” his gaze pierced her, “…you are mine.”
Her chest rose and fell in rapid breaths as he stripped off his shirt. Heat bloomed across her cheeks. His body was a landscape of scars violent, raw, painful reminders etched into his skin. Yet he carried them with the arrogance of a king.
Her eyes lingered too long on the lines of his chest, the hardness of his abs, the brutal gash near his ribs. She swallowed hard, the sight both terrifying and magnetic.
Lucas climbed onto the bed, caging her between his arms. She pressed back against the pillows, heart hammering as he leaned closer.
“I don’t want your body tonight…” his lips brushed the shell of her ear, his voice rough, trembling with something he’d never admit. “…what I want is to breathe. To feel… alive.”
And yet his mouth was dangerously close. The heat of him, the sheer gravity of his body over hers, drew her in like fire to oxygen.
Before she could speak, his lips grazed her jawline. A ghost of a touch, but it set her skin aflame. She shivered, eyes fluttering shut.
“Lucas…” she whispered, uncertain, her fingers trembling as they hovered near his chest.
“Say it again,” he demanded, his voice husky, his breath hot against her throat.
“Lucas…”
A low growl rumbled from his chest. His lips trailed down, finding the delicate curve of her neck. He kissed her not gently, not rough, but with a hunger restrained by willpower alone.
Her hands, almost against her will, tangled into his hair. He hissed softly, pressing his body closer, the heat of his bare torso against her clothed frame making her ache with confusion. Fear battled with something hotter, sharper.
He pulled back just enough to look into her eyes. His pupils were blown wide, his gaze wild. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me, butterfly…”
His thumb brushed her lower lip, and before she could think, his mouth crashed onto hers.
The kiss was consuming claiming her, punishing her, worshipping her all at once. She gasped, and he deepened it, his tongue sliding against hers with raw hunger.
Her body betrayed her, arching into him. His hand gripped her waist, pulling her flush against his hardness. A dangerous fire ignited between them, one that threatened to burn them both.
But then he broke away, panting, his forehead pressed against hers. His chest heaved with restraint.
“I could take you right now,” he whispered darkly, his voice trembling on the edge of control. “But you deserve more than to be devoured by a broken devil.”
His arms wrapped around her suddenly, fiercely. He pulled her down onto the bed with him, his head finding her chest, listening to her heartbeat as if it were the only thing keeping him alive.
“Don’t move,” he murmured, his grip tightening. “Just let me stay… just like this.”
Elana lay frozen, her body still burning from his kiss, her fingers threading unconsciously through his hair.
And as sleep claimed him, she realized Lucas wasn’t only dangerous. He was vulnerable, fractured, and human.
And that made him even more dangerous to her heart.
An hour later, a sharp knock at the door shattered the fragile silence.
Lucas groaned in irritation, burying his face deeper against Elana’s chest. She stroked his hair absentmindedly, as if calming a restless beast.
Reluctantly, he pushed himself up and stalked the door.
“Master… food,” the servant stammered, bowing low, eyes fixed on the ground.
Lucas gave a curt nod, grabbed the trolley himself, and slammed the door shut with enough force to make Elana flinch.
When he turned back, she was sitting upright on the bed, straightening her dress but her cheeks were wet. Her silent tears betrayed her.
He froze. Then in three strides, he was before her, his hand gripping her chin, tilting her face up with dangerous force.
“Why are you crying, butterfly?” His voice was low, edged with warning.
Her lips trembled. “I… I don’t want to be like your other mistresses. Please, Lucas… leave me.”
His eyes darkened to black fire. A muscle twitched in his jaw as fury bled into his expression.
“Other mistresses?” he snarled. In one brutal motion, he yanked her forward, his hand wrapping firmly around her throat not choking, but holding, owning. He dragged her into his lap, straddling him, her legs forced on either side of his waist.
His face was inches from hers, his breath hot and furious.
“I never had a mistress. Never touched another woman.” His voice was like thunder, shaking with restraint and raw power. “You are the first… and the last. Dare call yourself a mistress again, and I’ll remind you exactly who you belong to.”
Before she could reply, his mouth crashed against hers.
The kiss was savage. His teeth caught her lower lip, biting hard enough to make her gasp. Their mouths battled neither gentle nor soft, only fire and possession. His tongue pushed past her resistance, tasting, claiming, devouring. Their saliva is mixed, messy, primal, intoxicating.
Elana whimpered against him, her fists clutching at his shoulders, torn between pushing him away and clinging to him.
Lucas’s hands roamed her body with maddening slowness, slipping beneath the folds of her dress. His touch was scorching, rough yet reverent, as though he needed to map every inch of her.
When his fingers traced the delicate line of her bra, her breath hitched, a tremor ran through her body.
“Lucas…” she whispered, her voice breaking, torn between fear and the dangerous thrill surging through her veins.
He pulled back just enough to look at her, lips swollen, eyes burning with possession. His thumb brushed the edge of her bra as he growled against her lips,
“You’re mine, butterfly. Every tear, every breath, every inch of you belongs to me.”
And with that, his hand slipped higher, making Elana arch into him, her body betraying her fear as it melted into something much darker… much hungrier.
Elana’s chest heaved, lips swollen and breath ragged from the storm of his kiss. Her body was still trembling beneath him, every nerve alive, every inch claimed. But then his words echoed in her ears.
“I never had a mistress. Never touched another woman. You are the first… and the last.”
Her eyes widened, disbelief flooding her. “First?” she whispered, her voice hoarse, unsure if she had heard right.
Lucas’s gaze locked on hers, dark and unyielding. His thumb brushed her cheek, almost tenderly this time. “Yes, butterfly. The first woman to taste my lips, to lie in my arms, to bear the weight of my hunger. The first… and the only one I’ll ever allow.”
The admission hit her harder than his kisses. She had seen the devil in him his ruthlessness, his dominance but never expected this raw truth. A man like Lucas Romeo, feared by everyone, was untouched by anyone… and she was the one he had chosen.
Her lips parted, words failing her. She didn’t know whether to fear it… or let her heart break for him.
He exhaled harshly, as if fighting the storm inside himself. Finally, he released her, pulling back. The fire in his eyes dimmed into something more controlled, more human.
“Eat,” he ordered gruffly, pushing the trolley closer. But there was a roughness in his voice that didn’t sound like command it sounded like concern.
Elana sat up slowly, adjusting her dress, still trembling. She picked up the plate, but her hands shook. Lucas narrowed his eyes, then took the plate from her.
“I said eat,” he muttered, cutting a bite of food and holding it to her lips.
Her cheeks flushed. The same man who had kissed her savagely minutes ago was now feeding her. Hesitant, she opened her mouth, tasting the warm food as his eyes never left her face.
When she tried to take the fork from him, he growled, “Don’t argue. You’ll eat until I’m satisfied.”
Something strange stirred in her chest at his protectiveness. She ate quietly, and when she finished, she surprised him by lifting the fork and holding it to his mouth.
Lucas froze. His jaw tightened, as if the gesture was more intimate than anything else they had shared. Slowly, reluctantly, he accepted the bite. His eyes softened, almost imperceptibly.
When the food was gone, Elana’s gaze fell on the bloodstained bandage wrapped around his stomach. Concern tugged at her. “You’re still hurt,” she whispered.
“It’s nothing,” he dismissed, but she was already moving to the trolley, grabbing the medical supplies that the servants had left earlier.
“Lie down,” she said firmly. For once, Lucas didn’t argue. He stretched back on the bed, watching her silently as she leaned over him. Her delicate hands worked carefully, unwrapping the old bandage.
Elana’s breath caught as the wound came into view a deep gash, angry and raw, one of many scars across his hard body. She swallowed hard, her fingers brushing against his skin.
He hissed at the sting of alcohol as she cleaned it, but didn’t flinch. His eyes never left her face. “No one touches me, butterfly. No one. You… are the only ones I’d allow this close.”
Her hands trembled as she placed the fresh bandage over his wound, tying it securely. For the first time, she didn’t see the ruthless devil the world feared she saw the broken man beneath, scarred and human.
When she finished, Lucas caught her wrist, pulling her down until she hovered above him. His voice was softer than she had ever heard.
“Remember this, Elana. You’re not my mistress. You’re not a passing weakness. You are the only woman who will ever matter to me.”
Her heart raced, confusion and longing battling inside her. She didn’t know whether to run from him… or to fall into him completely.
And as his arms wrapped around her, pulling her against his chest once more, Elana realized she might already be too far gone.
A knock disturbed the silence again.
“Enter,” Lucas barked, his arm still draped over Elana.
The door creaked open. Servants filed in, carrying boxes and bags luxurious dresses, delicate nightwear, shoes, and everything a woman could possibly need. Their eyes dared not rise, though curiosity burned in them. Never before had their master ordered such things.
“Leave it all in the closet,” Lucas commanded coldly. His gaze flicked to Elana, then back to the servants, a silent warning.
When the last of them left, silence settled again, broken only by the sound of Lucas pulling her gently toward the walk-in closet.
Inside, soft light spilled across the rows of silk and lace the servants had arranged. Elana’s eyes widened at the sight of the delicate nightdresses hanging there. Lucas reached for one a short, silky piece of pale silver and held it out to her.
The closet glowed with soft golden light, silk and lace whispering temptation from every corner. Elana stood in the silver nightdress Lucas had chosen for her, the thin straps brushing her bare shoulders, the short hem barely covering her thighs.
Lucas’s breath hitched when he saw her. His eyes darkened, his composure unraveling thread by thread.
“God, butterfly…” he murmured, his voice low and hoarse, “you’ll be the death of me.”
Before she could respond, his hands were on her sliding around her waist, pulling her against him so roughly her back pressed against the mirrored wall. His mouth crashed onto hers, a savage, hungry kiss that stole her breath. His tongue forced past her lips, tasting her deeply, devouring her as if he’d go insane without her.
Her hands pressed against his chest, trembling, but instead of pushing him away, her fingers curled into his skin. The hard ridges of his muscles, the warmth radiating from his body every inch of him consumed her.
“Don’t leave me,” he pleaded against her lips, though his voice was raw, desperate, almost a growl. “Don’t ever leave me, Elana.”
His mouth trailed down her jaw to her throat, biting, sucking until her skin flushed with his mark. One hand fisted the hem of her nighty, dragging it higher, while the other held her throat gently but firmly, keeping her exactly where he wanted her.
She gasped, her body arching into him. “Lucas… I I don’t want to be just another possession ”
His eyes snapped up to hers, blazing. “You’re not. You’re mine. My first. My only. Say you’ll never walk away.”
Her breath trembled. She cupped his face, her fingers brushing the scar near his lip. “I’ll stay, Lucas. I’ll be with you… but only as long as you respect me. Break that, and I’m gone.”
The words cut through him like fire. His grip tightened on her thighs, and in one swift motion, he lifted her, making her wrap her legs around his waist.
“You’ll never go,” he growled, kissing her again, deeper, harder biting her lip until she moaned. His hands slid beneath the nighty, fingers tracing the heat of her skin, stroking her hips, her thighs, dragging her closer against his hard length.
“Feel this?” he whispered darkly against her ear, grinding his hips into her. “This is what you do to me. No one else. Only you.”
Her head fell back against the mirror, a cry escaping her lips as his mouth claimed her collarbone, then lower, tugging the strap of her nighty down with his teeth. The silky fabric slipped, exposing her bare shoulder, then the swell of her breast. His lips found her there, sucking hard, his tongue circling until she gasped his name.
“Lucas ” her voice broke, trembling between fear and need.
“Say it again,” he commanded, his hand sliding up her inner thigh, teasing, almost cruel in its slowness.
“Lucas…” she moaned, her nails digging into his back.
He groaned, his restraint snapping. “Mine. You’re mine, butterfly. And I’ll spend every night proving it.”
His mouth crashed back onto hers, his hand finally slipping between her thighs, caressing her intimately through the thin lace. She cried out against his lips, her body quivering, every ounce of her resistance burning away in the fire he ignited.
The closet filled with the sound of their mingled breaths, the soft rustle of silk, and the desperate, consuming hunger of two souls colliding dark, dangerous, and bound to each other in ways neither could escape.
The closet air grew heavy, thick with the scent of her perfume mixed with his arousal. Lucas’s lips trailed down her throat, his teeth scraping, sucking until her skin bloomed with red marks. Elana whimpered, her hands tangling in his hair as he devoured her neck, his tongue sliding over the tender skin he’d just bitten.
In one swift movement, he yanked the silky nighty’s robe tie loose, the fabric falling open, revealing the lace clinging to her trembling body. He didn’t strip her bare but the way his eyes burned at the sight made her feel naked under his gaze.
“Beautiful,” he growled, pressing her harder against the mirror before scooping her up into his arms. Her robe slipped further, exposing her shoulder and the tops of her breasts. He carried her out of the closet, his mouth never leaving her skin, biting and sucking along her collarbone as she gasped.
He laid her down on the bed with a rough tenderness, his body immediately caging hers. His mouth crashed onto hers again wet, desperate, tongues colliding his kiss tasting of hunger and need. His hands roamed, sliding over the lace of her bra, squeezing her breast hard enough to draw a broken cry from her lips.
“Lucas…” she moaned, arching beneath him.
“Say it louder,” he demanded, his lips moving lower, sucking her skin above the lace until she shuddered. His teeth grazed her nipple through the fabric, biting just enough to make her cry out. Then he sucked hard, his mouth closing around her breast even as his hand slid down, gripping her waist, then lower, until his palm pressed firmly against the heat between her thighs.
She gasped, her hips jerking up instinctively.
“Fuck, Elana…” he groaned, feeling her heat through the thin lace. He rubbed her slowly, teasingly, the wetness seeping through driving him insane. “You’re so ready for me. Do you even know what you’re doing to me?”
Her nails raked across his bare back as he pressed his chest harder against her, the muscles of his torso flexing, burning with heat. His abs dragged against her stomach as he ground down, his hard length straining against his pants, grinding against her soaked core.
He sucked her breast harder, pulling the lace cup down just enough to bare her to him. His tongue circled her nipple, flicking, sucking greedily while his hand cupped her other breast, kneading, squeezing. She writhed beneath him, moaning his name again and again, her body arching into his mouth as though she couldn’t get enough.
“Mine,” he groaned against her skin, his hand slipping between her thighs again. He rubbed harder now, fingers pressing against the damp lace, teasing her clit with steady, ruthless strokes until she was trembling beneath him. “Say it. Say you belong to me, Elana.”
Her voice broke with a cry, her hands clutching his shoulders desperately. “Lucas I… I’m yours… please ”
He kissed her again, swallowing her moans, biting her lip until she tasted blood mixed with their mingled saliva. His tongue plunged deep into her mouth as his hips thrust against her, grinding his hardness against her wetness in a raw, frantic rhythm.
His body was fire on hers his chest slick with sweat, his muscles straining, every inch of him pressing her deeper into the mattress. His hand slipped beneath the lace finally, his fingers brushing her bare folds, stroking her slickness directly.
She gasped, shuddering violently,her back arching.
“Fuck, butterfly… so wet for me,” he groaned, his forehead pressing against hers, his breath ragged. ““I won’t take your innocence… but I swear to God, I’ll make you feel like you’re mine tonight.”
And then his mouth claimed her breast again, sucking hard as his fingers slid against her most sensitive spot, pushing her closer, closer to the edge until she was moaning his name like a prayer, her body helpless under his.
Her body was still trembling under him when Lucas finally stopped grinding against her. His breath was harsh, his mouth still latched to her breast as though he couldn’t let go. He didn’t push further, didn’t break the last barrier he only held her tighter, sucking her skin with a desperate need, leaving marks that screamed mine.
“Elana…” his voice cracked, muffled against her chest. “Don’t leave me… please. I can’t lose you.”
Her fingers slid gently through his damp hair, cradling him to her. Her heart still raced from the storm he had unleashed, but her voice was steady when she whispered, “I’ll stay, Lucas… until the day you stop respecting me. Until then, I’m yours.”
At that, his grip tightened around her waist as though he feared she might vanish. And slowly, exhaustion claimed him still pressed against her, his lips on her breast, his breath warm on her skin as he drifted into sleep, holding her like she was the only thing that could calm his demons.
To be continued.....