Chapter 34
He reached between us, stroking my clit through my knickers.
All the fireworks that’d been smouldering, sparked to life.
An orgasm gripped my muscles with sharp ecstasy; I threw my head back
“Oh, shit.” I didn’t want the orgasm—even though I did.
I didn’t want it, as Adrian never gave me one, and to me, that made our separation horribly final.
As if Lucien sliced us apart, leaving me ruined for anything but roughness and savagery.
Just as the bands of muscles exploded, Lucien stopped touching.
He scrambled off, pulling me to a sitting position.
My bound wrists drooped in my lap. I blinked, body resonating with the build-up of intensity, smarting for relief.
My orgasm dwindled to nothing.
I wanted to scream.
He left me deliberately on the knife-edge of pleasure.
“What is your name?” he demanded, as he undid his belt, tore it from its belt loops, and tossed it on the ground.
The sound of the heavy belt buckle hitting soft carpet sent heartbeats racing ever faster.
I refused to answer, but couldn’t look away as he undid his fly and untucked the crimson shirt.
He left the royal blue jacket on, but unbuttoned it so the material flared to the sides.
Placing himself in front, his crotch the perfect height to my mouth, he ordered, “Suck me.” Lucien's gaze sent incandescent fire racing in my blood, but it didn’t match the horror I lived with.
Suck him? I couldn’t.
Not a man.
A stranger.
My owner.
I’d rather bite.
When I didn’t move, Q pushed his boxer briefs down, pulling his raging hard cock from its prison.
The tip glistened with pre-cum, his scent of musk and darkness spelled around me.
Fisting his thick length, he bit his lip, stroking.
My stomach clenched; I closed my eyes. “Please—” I shook my head. “I can’t.”
He inched closer, practically pressing his cock against my lips. “You can. And you will, heaven.”
I tilted my head away, hyperaware of the dampness of pre-cum as he ran his hot erection along my cheek.
His hand lashed out, fingers bruising my chin, keeping me in place. “Open. And if you bite, I’ll hit you so hard, you won’t wake up for days.” His voice rasped with excitement, but there was something else too.
Something I recognised, but couldn’t place.
Heat blazed all emotions to dust.
My body twitched as tears flowed.
I needed help.
I needed saving.
Everything I felt suddenly boiled over, steaming with no outlet…then something happened.
Everything… stopped.
My mind shut down, my body turned numb.
Everything I battled… disappeared.
I was left an empty shell—uncaring, blissfully vacant.
Calm descended as I accepted obedience like a balm against the hardship of fighting.
In that moment, I became what he wanted: his.
Lucien didn’t seem to notice the epiphany I experienced, and when he tilted my head to take his cock, I let him.
He pressed the back of my head, entering my mouth with his long, velvety length.
He moaned as I deep throated with no revolt at all.
I let him.
He groaned, flexing hips as my lips created a suction around hot flesh.
He muttered something in French, bending forward, almost brushing my hair with his chest.
I let him.
In my untouchable cocoon, I would let him do anything
.
He was male. I was female. That was all there was to it.
My hands moved on their own accord, reaching for him.
One hand cupped tight, smooth balls, while the other stroked his throbbing length.
I floated on a cloud of indifference as I pleasured, touched, tasted.
Nothing registered—neither scent, nor taste, nor sound.
I was a robot, a perfect toy—my only purpose: to make him cum.
Why did I ever fight? This was so much easier.
Almost drug like.
Dreamlike.
I wanted to laugh. Freedom.
I’d found it, in my mind.
Lucien stopped thrusting into my mouth; harsh fingers angled my throat to look up.
I didn’t stop stroking, even as pale eyes delved into mine.
I blinked, not caring.
If he wanted to rape me, so be it. If I was to be his for eternity, fine.
He might own my body.
He would never own my soul.
“What is your fucking name?” he muttered, French accent warbling the curse.
He should swear in French.
It sounded better.
I never dropped eye contact, still stroking, still working like a good wind-up toy.
He growled, knocking my hands off his cock.
They landed limply in my lap.
Lucien stood, swaying slightly with his erection standing proud beneath the shirt, trousers puddled around ankles like shackles.
My skin prickled with the force of his stare, but apart from that, nothing moved me.
I didn’t care what he wanted. My name? I didn’t know my name.
Oh, I had to answer. He asked a question. I had to obey. “ Heaven. My name is Heaven, your Esclave.”