Chapter 214
Sophia‘s POV
"Damn right I did." He pulled me up roughly, manhandling me until I was straddling his lap, my skirt riding up around my hips. "You're mine, Sophia. Every inch of you."
His hands were already at my waistband, yanking down my pants and underwear in one brutal motion. I barely had time to brace myself before he was lifting me, positioning me over his cock.
"Lucas, wait—"
He didn't wait. Just pulled me down hard, impaling me in one savage thrust.
I cried out, my nails digging into his shoulders as my body struggled to adjust. No prep, no warning, just the sudden, overwhelming fullness of him inside me.
"Fuck, you're tight," he groaned, his hands gripping my hips, holding me still while he savored the feeling. "Always so fucking tight for me."
He started moving, lifting me and slamming me back down, setting a brutal pace that had me gasping. His mouth found my neck, teeth scraping against sensitive skin, and I knew he was marking me.
His hands moved to my blouse, yanking it open. Buttons scattered across the car floor. My bra followed, torn away like tissue paper.
Then his mouth was on my breast, tongue circling my nipple before he sucked hard enough to make me whimper. The sensation shot straight down to where we were joined, and I felt myself clench around him involuntarily.
"That's it," he murmured against my skin. "Feel good, doesn't it? Admit it feels good."
I wouldn't. Couldn't. Even as pleasure built in my core, even as I felt myself getting wetter, making it easier for him to move inside me.
"My parents," I gasped out, trying to focus on anything but the way his cock was hitting that spot inside me that made my vision blur. "They had nothing to do with your family's bankruptcy. They canceled our engagement because they love me. Because they didn't want to see me suffer. How is that a crime? How does that justify you—" I broke off on a moan as he thrust particularly deep. "—justify you imprisoning them?"
Lucas's rhythm didn't falter. If anything, he moved faster, harder, one hand leaving my hip to grip my jaw, forcing me to look at him.
"Be a good girl," he said, his voice deadly calm despite the exertion, "and I'll keep them comfortable in that facility. Keep fighting me, and I'll have them transferred to a real prison. See how well your precious parents do behind bars."
"You—" The word turned into a gasp as he shifted the angle, hitting even deeper. "You bastard."
"Probably." His thumb found my clit, rubbing in tight circles that had my thighs shaking. "But I'm your bastard. And you're going to come for me, Sophia. Going to come on my cock like the good little wildcat you are."
I hated that he was right. Hated that my body was betraying me, that the pleasure was building to an unbearable peak despite everything. I felt like I was floating, untethered, clinging to his shoulders because they were the only solid thing in a world that had tilted sideways.
My orgasm hit like a wave, crashing over me and dragging me under. I buried my face in Lucas's neck, muffling my cries against his skin as my body convulsed around him.
He followed seconds later, his grip on my hips bruising as he slammed into me one last time, spilling inside me with a guttural groan.
For a moment, we just sat there, both breathing hard, our bodies still joined. Then Lucas patted my ass—casual, dismissive, like I was a dog who'd performed a trick.
"Clean yourself up," he said, already reaching for his phone. "We have a meeting in an hour."
I climbed off him on shaking legs, my body aching in places I didn't want to think about. Found my ruined blouse on the floor and tried to pull it closed over my chest, but half the buttons were missing.
Lucas noticed, of course. Noticed everything.
"There's a spare shirt in the trunk," he said without looking up from his phone. "You know where I keep them."
Because of course he did. Of course he had backup clothes ready for the times he fucked me in his car and left me disheveled.
I started to move toward the door, but his hand shot out, catching my wrist.
"Where do you think you're going?"
"To get the shirt you just—"
"After you thank me properly."
I stared at him, disbelief warring with the exhaustion that had settled into my bones. "Thank you? For what, exactly?"
His smile was sharp, predatory. "For reminding you who you belong to. For taking care of your needs. Pick one."
The urge to kick him was overwhelming. So I did—aimed my heel at his shin, not hard enough to really hurt but enough to make him grunt in surprise.
"You're a pervert," I spat.
Lucas's eyes darkened, but his smile widened. In one fluid motion, he had me pinned against the seat again, his body covering mine.
"Your pervert," he corrected, his lips brushing my ear. "Don't forget it."
Then he released me, straightening his clothes like nothing had happened. "We're going back to the penthouse first. You need to clean up properly."
I grabbed my pants and underwear from the floor, yanking them on with shaking hands. Hated him. Hated myself. Hated this entire fucked-up situation.
Back at his penthouse—my gilded cage—I headed straight for the guest room I'd been using. The walk-in closet was filled with clothes—all in my size, every style you could imagine. Business suits, casual wear, evening gowns, even pajamas.
I grabbed a simple dress and disappeared into the bathroom, letting the hot water wash away the feeling of his hands on me. But no amount of scrubbing could erase what had happened.
Sleep came fitfully as he held me forcefully against him, broken by dreams I didn't want to remember.
I woke to sunlight streaming through the windows and the smell of coffee. Lucas was already dressed in another perfectly tailored suit, sitting at the breakfast bar with his phone.
"Good," he said without looking up when I appeared. "You're awake. We have that meeting in an hour."