Chapter 71 Chapter Eighteen
My body was still trembling, stretched wide and dripping around him, when he finally pulled out. The sudden emptiness made me gasp, clenching around nothing, desperate for him again even as my legs shook and my cunt leaked little of what he’d just poured into me. His cock was still hard, still monstrous, gleaming with my slick as he stood over me, chest heaving, eyes glowing hellfire red.
I tried to close my thighs, to hide the mess between them, but his clawed fingers caught my knees and shoved them open, spreading me wide. A choked sound ripped from my throat as I met his gaze. He wanted me bare, ruined, soaking for him. And I was. Completely.
“Lucian…” My voice was broken, breathless, wrecked.
He didn’t answer. He only crouched, lowering his massive frame between my thighs until his face hovered over my swollen cunt. My hands slammed against the counter, fingers clawing marble as I tried to push back—but there was nowhere to go. His claws held me in place, his breath searing hot against me. My folds throbbed, my clit swollen and aching, dripping down the counter. I was already spent, ruined—and yet I needed more.
When his tongue finally dragged up my slit, I screamed. My head snapped back, my spine arched, every nerve in my body catching fire. He licked me like a starving beast, long, ruthless strokes that had me shuddering, my pussy clenching and gushing for him all over again. His claws dug into my thighs, keeping me spread while his mouth devoured me. He groaned low, guttural, as if tasting me was better than blood, better than power itself.
I was shaking, sobbing, begging without words, my nails scratching at the counter until they split. My climax hit again, violent, tearing me apart as my juices spilled over his tongue, slick and messy, dripping down his chin. He didn’t stop. He drank me down, swallowed me whole, his glowing red eyes never leaving mine even as I convulsed and writhed beneath his mouth.
When I finally collapsed, boneless and ruined, he rose again. His mouth glistened with me, his lips wet, his tongue darting out to lick me off like he couldn’t waste a drop. My chest heaved, my body twitching with aftershocks, but my cunt still pulsed, still throbbed, still begged for him.
And he knew.
He grabbed me—rough, effortless—and lifted me off the counter, carrying me like I weighed nothing. My head lolled against his shoulder, my breath ragged, but my body clung to him, legs wrapping around his waist, cunt sliding wet and desperate against his cock. He slammed me against the nearest wall, marble shattering with the force, and drove into me again in one brutal thrust.
My scream echoed through the mansion.
He fucked me against the wall, savage and relentless, every hard thrust pounding me higher, deeper, tearing more cries from my throat. He drew back and buried himself so deep. My body was wrecked, my mind gone, pleasure and pain fusing until I couldn’t tell them apart. I felt like I was breaking, like I was being remade in his hands, like every thrust was carving me into something that belonged to him alone.
The air crackled again—phantom touches wrapping around me, invisible mouths sucking at my nipples, unseen hands choking my throat, stroking my clit, spanking my ass. I was everywhere at once, exploding over and over, my body convulsing as he fucked me into oblivion.
And when his roar finally tore through the air—monstrous, guttural, claiming—it was the sound of something unholy, something eternal. His cock pulsed inside me, flooding me again, and I knew this wasn’t just sex. It was possession. It was sin, crawling through my veins, binding me to him the way hell had once bound him.
When he finally let me slide down the wall, I was ruined, dripping his seed down my thighs, too weak to stand. He caught me before I could collapse, claws gentling, his massive frame holding me steady. His eyes still burned red, but softer now—sated, dangerous, mine.
I buried my face in his chest, still shaking.
His chest rumbled beneath my cheek, a low vibration that wasn’t quite a purr, wasn’t quite human either. My lashes fluttered shut, and for a moment I thought he’d finally relent, that the storm inside him had quieted. But then his claws grazed up my spine—light, teasing, almost tender—until the sharp tips pressed slightly into the back of my neck and forced my head up.
I gasped, meeting those glowing, blood-red eyes.
Lucian tilted his head, studying me like a predator deciding whether to devour its prey or keep it alive just to play. My lips trembled open, but no words came out. There was nothing left in me to give, and still, I knew he wasn’t finished.
His mouth crashed against mine before I could beg. Not a kiss—an invasion. His tongue forced past my lips, dominating, claiming, tasting me like he wanted to swallow the very air out of my lungs. I moaned into him, weak and trembling, and his hand gripped the back of my head, clawed fingers tangled in my hair, holding me there until I couldn’t breathe. When he finally let me go, I sagged against him, panting, ruined.
“You’re mine,” he rasped, his first words since the storm began.
The sound of it—low, gravelly, dangerous—shot straight to my core, making me clench around nothing, heat flooding back through me even though my body begged for mercy.
I whimpered, shaking my head. “Lucian, I can’t—”
“You can.” His claws tilted my chin higher, forcing me to hold his burning gaze.
Before I could respond, he carried me across the room, each step heavy and certain, like he’d already decided where my body would break next. He stopped at the dining table—the same one where I’d set out dinner earlier—and with a single sweep of his arm, he sent a flower vase, glasses, and silver crashing to the floor. The sound shattered through the silence, sharp and violent, and then he laid me down on the polished surface.
The wood was cold against my overheated skin, a shocking contrast to his burning body looming above me. He spread me open again, my legs dangling off the table, his massive frame towering between them.
My body trembled, but my heart pounded with something that wasn’t fear. Anticipation. Need. Sin.
“Lucian…” I whispered again, this time not broken, not begging—just offering.
His lips curved into something dark, feral, almost cruel.
And then he climbed onto the table with me, his claws braced beside my head, his cock thick and unrelenting as it pressed against my ruined slit again.