Chapter 17
Corrigan’s POV
“Get in.” Lucien growls, pushing me into the suite. He lucks the door behind me and turns on me, staring me down.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this angry. His eyes are flashing and he seems to be restraining himself so much. I wonder what exactly is actually going on in his mind.
I take off his jacket and walk into the bathroom, bending over by the sink to wash my face.
“Do you have any idea how serious your little runaway trip could have gotten?” He asks, walking into the bathroom after me.
“Yes, Lucien. A doppler nearly swallowed my face whole. I was there too.” I say offhandedly. He is trembling with the restraint he is forcing on himself. I towel my face dry, turning to face him.
“This whole thing seems funny to you, doesn’t it?” He asks.
“No.” I replied.
My ire is rising too. The confusion, the hurt, the fear and the hysterical emotion from today comes crashing into me, making me angry. He wants a fight, I’ll give him one.
“But if you're wondering, I’d do it again.” I say, walking past him. “And again and again. I’d gladly run the risk of being killed by whatever monster or getting hurt or dying of fatigue than being here.”
His face looks carved out of stone. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”
I laugh hysterically, walking to the balcony and gripping the banister angrily. I don’t feel anything but anger. Hot, white anger.
The looks of condescension, the staff staring at me with hatred in their eyes, the boredom, the fear, the hurt, the self-loathing. It all comes back.
“Do you have any idea what I have to face by being here? Everybody knows I am your little plaything! Everyone treats me like a whore!” I say, not caring that the volume of my voice is rising.
“You could have killed me, Lucien.” I say, turning to look at him. “Why don't you just fucking do it? Snap my neck and PR it to an end!”
“It's belittling to be known as my whore but you stayed as Dante’s for three years.” He says sardonically.
The inaccuracy of that statement is the last straw. I feel fur breaking out on the surface of my skin and I growl, squeezing on the metal of the banister till it winkles beneath my fingers. With a jerk, I pull, breaking it off.
Without thinking, I throw it like a spear, sending it soaring towards Lucien. He catches it mid air with embarrassing ease and throws it aside, fueling my anger even more.
“You bastard!” I growl, picking up one of the lounge chairs in the balcony and flinging it at him. “Everyone!” he steps aside and the lounge chair crashes against the wall. “Everyone treats me badly!”
I shove the coffee table in his direction with a kick and he shoves it aside. “The hotel guests!” I pick up a glass bottle of perfume from the vanity and send it flying in his direction.
“The staff!”
He stops it mid air and places it on the nightstand. He had been standing in one position but I had advanced. I am already close to him.
I lung for his face, my bloodlust making me want to claw his eyes out. He grabs my wrists, pinning me against the wall.
“Calm down so you don't hurt yourself.”
“I hate you.” I ground out, struggling to get free.
“I've figured it out.” He says dryly, placing more pressure on my wrists. I take deep breaths, shuddering and forcing myself not to cry.
“I can't take any more of it.” I sob. “Do it. Just do it.”
He stays still, the sound of our breaths resonating in the room.
“Do it!”
“Do you really think that if I wanted you dead I would have stopped the doppler from killing you?” He asks softly. Reasonably.
“I can’t bear it here. The looks, the comments…”
He lets go of my wrists, walking towards the door and locking it behind him
. “I’m sorry if it hurts your delicate sensibilities to be my mistress, but look on the bright side. If you keep on being such a pain in the ass I might just send you to exile.”
I take the lamp from the nightstand and throw it at his back. It hits him square between the shoulders and he stills. With almost languid ease, he pulls a dagger from his boot, flicks it open and with a flock of the wrist, throws it in my direction.
I barely get to see it spin through the air before it embeds itself in the wall beside me. A deliberate inch away from my neck.
“Quick word of advice.”
He says, walking to me. I swallow. He places one hand on the wall beside me, his thumb and index pinning down a bit of my hair. He leans in so good his breath tickles me, taking the handle of the dagger and pulling it out slowly.
“If you truly want to hit your target and cause harm—actual harm, mind you—do it fast and don’t do it in a time when you’re blinded by anger.
Your opponent will know every last move you make even before you make it. Also, have actual skill and precision.” He strokes my face with the tip of the knife. “Seeing an angry woman might be a turn on, but it's a bit pathetic when not even one of your blows causes actual injury.”
I send my palm crashing into the side of his face and watch with pleasure as his face snaps to the side. His grip on my hair tightens and he is on it, forcing my face up to meet his gaze.
He brings his lips down forcefully over mine, forcing his tongue into my mouth. His hand grabs my waist roughly, pulling me forward and deepening the kiss. I feel it again, that wildness he makes me feel.
I feel it spreading through me.
The electricity. That powerful sensation that imprisons me, controls me. I arch against him, letting my tongue slide into his mouth. The taste of him bursts on my tongue and I groan unashamedly, meeting each thrust of his tongue.
His hands cup my breasts through the fabric of my shirt and I feel my nipples stiffen almost painfully. My breasts feel heavy and heat courses through me, pooling between my legs. His hands take hold of the back of my shirt, ripping it to the hem. He places an open-mouthed kiss on the base of my throat, over my pulse, peeling the shirt from my body and throwing it to the side.
He picks me up by the back of my thighs and instinctively I wrap my legs around his waist, crying out as my moist center makes contact with the hardness of his desire.
He presses me up against the wall, his lips traveling to my breasts. He places rough kisses on the valley between them and takes one nipple into his mouth, sucking hungrily.
I can swear I see stars. My eyes roll to the back of my head as he continues with the second nipple. He places me on the bed, my knees bent and spread. The sight of him as he stared up at me, getting on his knees and dropping a moist kiss on my navel, had to be the most erotic thing I have ever seen. His hands dig into the waistband of my panties and pull it down with my skirt, baring me to his gaze.
He places a kiss on my lower abdomen, making liquid pull between my legs. He holds my knees apart and lowers his head.
My head falls back and my back arches off the bed as he kisses me. Slowly at first, then more urgently, sucking and pulling, sticking his tongue in and driving me crazy. I moan loudly, grabbing fistfuls of the sheets. My breath comes out harsher and I groan. I'm close. My vision blurs and I groan even closer, my hips gyrating against his face.
I'm too lost in the moment to feel embarrassed. My feet rake down his back. I feel the contractions in my womb when I come, my legs trembling uncontrollably. I still feel the aftershocks as I watch him take off his shirt and shrug it off, undoing his belt and shoving his pants down annoyingly with his underwear.
I stare up at the ceiling, feeling him push my knees further apart. He kisses my neck and the underside of my ear, smiling against my skin when I gasp softly. I feel the head of his cock pressing against me, teasing, arousing.
He pushes in slightly, stroking. It’s almost like he’s torturing me. For a swift, panicked moment, I’m scared he is going to stop. He thrusts in fully, kissing my moan away. He thrusts out slowly, setting a slow, seductive pace.
“Harder.” I moan in his ear, biting down on my lip. He doesn't pay any attention to me, retaining the slow pace. With a frustrated groan, I flipped him over, our bodies still joined, mounting him.
He stares at me hazily, as though surprised and impressed. I let myself smile with satisfaction as I rode him, chasing after my climax. He grabs me by my hips, meeting me thrust for thrust. We come together, splintering into a million tiny pieces, not knowing where one person started and the other ended.