Chapter 4: Watched Lucian's Threesome

Ella's POV

My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic, trapped bird. The sounds, those sounds, were coming from behind the heavy mahogany door of the room I had approached.

 It was a symphony of something else entirely—breathy moans, the rhythmic, wet slap of flesh on flesh, and a low, guttural growl I recognized, even in its rawest state, as Lucian’s.

"You should not be here. You should turn around. Go back to your room." I told myself.

But my feet, treacherous things, carried me forward.

The door was ajar, just a sliver. A sliver wide enough to shatter my entire world.

And what a world it was.

Lucian was there, in the center of the room, a god holding court. And he was not alone. Two women, breathtakingly beautiful and utterly naked, were with him. One, a redhead with skin like cream, was on her hands and knees before him, his hand fisted in her fiery hair as he guided her mouth onto his cock.

 And what a cock.

 My breath hitched. I’d never seen one so… formidable. It was thick and veined, a ruddy, hard length that glistened under the low lights from the redhead’s attentions.

The other woman, a brunette with curves that seemed specifically designed for sin, was behind him, her lips tracing the powerful lines of his back, her hands kneading the tight muscles of his ass. The air was thick with the scent of sex, of musk and expensive perfume and pure, unadulterated lust.

I was frozen. A statue of shame and voyeuristic hunger. I should have been appalled. Disgusted. But the heat that flooded my core was neither of those things. It was a liquid fire, pooling low in my belly, making my knees weak. My panties were soaked, a damp, embarrassing truth I couldn’t deny. My nipples tightened into aching points against the soft cotton of my shirt.

I watched, mesmerized, as Lucian pulled himself from the redhead’s mouth with a wet pop. He murmured something low, and the two women shifted with practiced ease. The brunette laid back on the rich Persian rug, spreading her legs, her fingers already delving into her own slickness, showing him what she wanted. What he had done to her.

Lucian didn’t hesitate. He positioned himself over her, one hand pinning her wrist above her head. He looked down at her, a predator with his prey, and then he drove into her in one smooth, powerful thrust.

The brunette’s back arched off the floor, a silent scream of pleasure on her lips before it broke into a ragged cry. “Lucian! Yes! God, right there!”

He began to move, and the sight was hypnotic. The raw power in his hips, the way his abdomen flexed with each deep, penetrating stroke. The redhead didn’t miss a beat. She knelt beside them, her mouth latching onto one of the brunette’s nipples, sucking and biting as her hand snaked down to circle the brunette’s clit.

I could almost feel it. The stretch. The fullness. The brutal, delicious friction. My own hand pressed against my stomach, as if I could quell the desperate throbbing between my legs. I wanted that. The thought was a lightning strike, terrifying and exhilarating. I wanted to be the one beneath all that devastating strength. I wanted to feel that incredible cock filling me, ruining me for any other man.

Lucian’s pace intensified. The slapping sounds grew louder, more frantic. The redhead was moaning now too, her fingers working furiously on her own breast and the brunette’s clit. The room was a tangle of limbs, of sweat-sheened skin, of animalistic grunts and high-pitched pleas.

And then his eyes, dark and full of a carnal knowledge that made my soul shiver, flicked up. They found me in the crack of the door.

Time stopped.

Our gazes locked. His piston-like rhythm into the writhing brunette didn’t falter for a single second. A slow, utterly wicked smile spread across his face. It wasn’t a smile of embarrassment or anger. It was one of recognition. Of invitation. It was a smile that said, I see your hunger. I see how wet you are for me.

Panic, sharp and immediate, lanced through the fog of my arousal. He saw me. I stumbled back from the door, my face flaming, my heart trying to beat its way out of my chest. I turned and ran, my soft-soled shoes making no sound on the polished hallway floor. I didn’t stop until I was back in the guest room, the door locked behind me, my body trembling.

I leaned against the cool wood, sliding down to the floor. I could still see it. The image was burned onto the back of my eyelids. Lucian’s powerful form. The women’s ecstasy. His smile.

The throbbing between my legs was a persistent, aching demand. My fingers, trembling with a mixture of shame and need, crept under the waistband of my leggings. They slid through my slick folds, and I gasped at the contact. So wet. So ready. I closed my eyes, and I was back there. I wasn’t watching anymore.

I was the one on the rug.

It was my wrists he pinned above my head. It was my body he loomed over, all primal strength and intense focus. I could almost feel the heat coming off his skin.

My fingers found my clit, circling the swollen nub with a frantic pressure that made me jerk. Oh, god. In my mind, it was his thumb, rough and knowing. I imagined that first, searing thrust, the unbelievable stretch as he filled me completely. My back arched involuntarily, my hips bucking against my own hand, seeking a deeper, harder friction I couldn’t provide.

I bit my lip to stifle a moan, picturing his hips pistoning, driving into me over and over, the sound of our bodies meeting echoing in the quiet of my room. I was the one crying out his name, begging for more, for harder, for everything. The coil of pleasure in my gut tightened, winding to a unbearable peak. My breath came in ragged pants. I was so close, teetering on the edge, my entire world narrowed to the phantom feeling of him pounding into me and the frantic circles on my clit.

A sharp knock on the door behind my head made me freeze, my fingers stilling instantly.

“Ella?” His voice was like dark velvet, muffled by the wood but unmistakable. Lucian. “I know you’re in there. Open the door.