Chapter 56

Chapter 56

I expected Lucien to shut down and leave after our shower—too many things passed between us, and I was raw.

Lucien avoided my eyes as he pulled out and stood, but he didn’t move to leave.

He leaned down, pulling me off the floor, before stepping out of his soaking trousers and throwing them in the bath.

The wet material slapped loudly, followed by his blazer.

He left his shirt on, long enough to cover hips but not the thick, heavy cock between his legs. He maintained the hair down there just like he did his head.

A subtle shadow of masculinity without any of the wildness.

My body tingled.

He screamed man and dynamism.

I was a girl with a ceaseless past, no way enough for him, but determined to try.

He took me tonight in a mixture of compassion and anger, but I wanted more.

I wanted what he promised when I first arrived.

The act of taking from me, even though my body would willingly give up every part to him.

I bit my lip, remembering Lucien fingering me over the pool table.

I’d been turned on beyond anything I could’ve imagined.

Hatred for him added another dimension to an already overwhelming experience.

Now, I didn’t hate him, but I still wanted to struggle.

I needed Q to take me again and again.

I needed him to rule me so Brute didn’t win by making me fear sex.

I belonged to Lucien, yet he never stepped over the line from tormentor to rapist.

I huddled into the towel, so confused.

Lucien stalked out of the bathroom, leaving wet footprints.

The cold embrace of rejection made me tremble.

Was that it? He took what he wanted, then left me to fend for myself.

What happened to his promise of never leaving me alone?

I couldn’t let Lucien cast me off.

Without him, I belonged to no one. I no longer belonged to my father or Adrian.

My old life was over.

Q ruined me for a monotonous grey-toned existence, eclipsing it with techno colour.

The bathroom closed in, dripping with blackness and horror-filled memories.

Without lucien, my skin itched with terror as demons and monsters crept from shadows.

I knew I needed to deal with my issues, to find my strength.

I couldn’t use Lucien as a bandage to forget, but I wasn’t strong enough yet.

The sounds of opening drawers drifted into the bathroom, and Lucien prowled back with arms full of clothes.

He placed them in the dry basin and ripped my towel off.

I stood, naked, thrilled how his body tensed, eyes glued to my exposed figure.

“Hold up your arms,” he ordered, a large white t-shirt in his hands.

I complied and he slipped the t-shirt over my head. His five o’ clock shadow rasped my cheek as he bent to tug the hem.

“Step.” He kneeled with a pair of white knickers, raising an eyebrow.

I clutched his wet shoulder for balance, letting him slide the knickers up my legs.

The sensual slide, his fingers kissing skin, made my eyes snap closed.
He pinged the elastic around my hips with a small smile.

This man who killed for me, fucked me, owned me was dressing me. It didn’t make sense.

Lucien leaned forward and hooked fingers beneath my heavy tresses, pulling damp curls from beneath the t-shirt. His fingers caused lust to swirl again.

I was insatiable.

His nostrils flared.

The bathroom went from steamy to sex-aware and provocative.
.
He stood rigid and aloof; his face hidden behind a mask of inexhaustible control.

“Hello, treasure.”

Brute’s voice slashed through my brain. My throat dried in panic as the rape replayed at hyper-speed.

My soul chilled with ice, reliving what happened. A tremble racked my body and I keened.

Lucien lashed out, grabbing my chin. “What are you doing? I told you to forget it. You’re only to remember me from tonight.”

I dropped my eyes, nodding rapidly, wishing I could obey, but thoughts slithered on the edge of consciousness: Brute with his horrible breath and fingers; Driver with his lies and hair pulling.

With Lucien here, he helped me forget, but every moment he withdrew, returning to a cold master, rather than a tentative lover, I floundered.

Ripping his eyes from mine, he opened a vanity drawer and pulled free a tub of arnica. “Sit,” he ordered, pointing at a fluffy bench behind the door.

I sat, gasping as Lucien knelt before me. “This will help.”. With soft fingertips, he massaged the ointment into lash marks on my upper thighs.

The pressure is both painful and delicious.

Echoes of memories tried to jail me, but Lucien’s touch wouldn’t let me linger in nightmares.

Not while he rested between my legs, stroking me.

His scent of citrus kept me grounded, reminding he might have flaws, but he cared about his possessions.

He would look after me as long as I pleased him.

“What did you mean when you said you were frightened about how far you’d go, when I was chained in the sparrow room?” The words fell out; I clamped a horrified hand over my mouth. Oh, my God, what made me say such a thing?

Lucien froze and his sudden emotional recoil left me freezing. “I’m not in the mood to answer questions, heaven.”

Glaring, he returned to rubbing in the pungent healing balm, effectively slicing off any con
versation.

But a core of strength filled me and I had to know.

I needed to know more about this conundrum of a man.
Who was he?