LOGINHis mouth left mine, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down my throat. His teeth scraped against my collarbone, and I arched into him, a needy sound escaping my lips.
"You're so responsive," he murmured against my skin. "So beautiful, so pretty" I moaned in capable of words. His hands found the hem of my dress, fingers hooking beneath the delicate lace. He pulled it up slowly, deliberately, his eyes never leaving mine. The cool air hit my heated skin, and I shivered—but not from the cold. "Arms up." I obeyed without hesitation. He tugged the dress over my head and tossed it aside. I sat there in nothing but a pale pink lace bra and matching panties, suddenly self-conscious under his burning gaze. "Fuck," he breathed, stepping back to look at me. "You're even more beautiful than I imagined." His eyes raked over my body like a physical touch, leaving trails of fire in their wake. My nipples peaked against the lace, hard and aching for attention. "Lucien…" I squirmed under his scrutiny. "Don't hide from me." His voice was firm. "Let me look at what's mine." Mine. The word sent a thrill straight to my core. He shrugged off his jacket, then his shirt, revealing a chest that made my mouth water. Broad shoulders, defined muscles, a light dusting of hair that trailed down beneath his belt. He was built like a man who knew exactly what to do with his body—and I was about to find out firsthand. He stepped back between my legs, his hands finding my waist. His thumbs traced slow circles on my bare skin, and I realized he was giving me another chance to stop this. "I'm not going anywhere," I whispered. That was all the permission he needed. He unclasped my bra with practiced ease, sliding the straps down my arms. My breasts spilled free, and he groaned at the sight. "Perfect," he said, right before his mouth closed over one aching peak. I cried out, my hands flying to his hair. His tongue swirled around my nipple, flicking and teasing until I was panting, grinding against the desk beneath me. He gave the other breast equal attention, leaving me a trembling, desperate mess. "Please," I begged, not even sure what I was asking for. "Lucien, please." He lifted his head, his lips swollen and wet. "Please what, Bella? Tell me what you need." "I need… I need you to touch me." "Where?" "Everywhere. Please." His fingers hooked into the waistband of my panties and dragged them down my legs. I was completely bare to him now, spread open on his desk, my arousal glistening in the firelight. I should have felt exposed, vulnerable. Instead, I felt powerful—because of the way he was looking at me. "Look at you," he said, his voice rough with desire. "So wet for me. Has he ever made you this wet?" "No," I admitted, my cheeks flushing. "Good." He dropped to his knees. Before I could process what was happening, his mouth was on me. His tongue dragged through my folds, slow and deliberate, and I screamed, my back arching off the desk. He gripped my thighs, holding me in place, and devoured me like a man starved. "Lucien—oh god—" He circled my clit with his tongue, applying just enough pressure to make me see stars. Two fingers pushed inside me, curling in a way that made my vision go white. He worked me with his mouth and hands in perfect rhythm, building the pressure inside me until I was teetering on the edge. "I'm going to—I'm going to—" "Come for me, Bella." His voice vibrated against my sensitive flesh. "Let go. I've got you." I shattered. The orgasm ripped through me, violent and consuming. I writhed on the desk, moaning his name like a prayer, my fingers fisting in his hair. He didn't stop until I was trembling, oversensitive, pushing weakly at his head. He rose, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, looking insufferably pleased with himself. "How was that?" "I can't…" I couldn't even form a sentence. He unbuckled his belt, and my eyes dropped to the prominent bulge straining against his pants. My mouth went dry. "That's not going to fit," I said, the words slipping out before I could stop them. Lucien laughed—a genuine, warm sound that softened his sharp features. "We'll make it fit, sweetheart. Trust me." He freed himself, and my eyes widened. He was long and thick, veins prominent, the tip already leaking with arousal. He stroked himself slowly, watching my reaction. "Still want this?" "Yes." The word came out breathless. "Yes, I want it." He positioned himself at my entrance, the head of his cock pressing against my slick folds. He leaned down, capturing my mouth in a deep kiss as he pushed inside. The stretch was exquisite—a burning fullness that made my toes curl. He pushed deeper, inch by agonizing inch, and I gasped against his mouth, my nails digging into his shoulders. "Breathe, Bella," he murmured against my lips. "Just breathe." I tried, but he was so much—too much—and yet not enough. My body stretched to accommodate him, a delicious burn that blurred the line between pleasure and pain. He paused when he was fully seated inside me, giving me time to adjust, his forehead pressed to mine. "You feel incredible," he breathed, his voice strained. "So tight. So perfect." I shifted my hips experimentally, and we both groaned. He pulled out slowly, almost entirely, before thrusting back in with a force that made the desk scrape against the floor. I cried out, my hands flying to grip the edge of the desk. He set a punishing rhythm—deep, relentless strokes that hit something inside me that made my vision blur. "You feel that?" he growled, his hips slamming against mine. "That's what you've been missing." I couldn't respond. Couldn't think. Each thrust pushed me higher, building that pressure inside me all over again. My breasts bounced with the force of his movements, and he dipped his head to capture a nipple between his teeth, biting down just hard enough to make me scream. "Tell me who makes you feel like this." "You," I gasped. "Only you." "Say my name." "Lucien!"I stared at him, my breath hitching. Stay? The word echoed inside my head like a warning bell. God, I wanted to. That was the most terrifying part of all. A small, reckless part of me wanted to forget the entire world outside the walls of his penthouse. I wanted to forget my morals, my responsibilities, and just stay right here, tangled in his sheets. But reality always found a way to crash back in. "My parents are waiting for me," I whispered, trying to pull back, though my body betrayed me by leaning into his touch. Lucien's expression softened, a rare, devastating look on a man usually so calculated. "They know you're here, Bella." "I know." "So there's nothing to worry about." "There is," I choked out, the guilt finally clawing its way up my throat. His dark brows drew together in confusion, and I forced the truth out before I lost my nerve. "My father trusts you." The words came out barely above a whisper, but they hit the room like a thunderclap. Lucien went completely
I woke to the smell of him. Sandalwood. Cedar. Something warm and masculine that wrapped around me like a second skin. For a moment, I didn't open my eyes. I just lay there, suspended in that hazy space between sleep and wakefulness, remembering. The library. The firelight. His mouth on mine. His hands in my hair. The way he'd whispered my name like a prayer. Bella. My eyes flew open. I was in a bed—not the guest room he'd shown me earlier, but somewhere else. Somewhere larger. The sheets were silk, deep charcoal gray, and the morning light filtered through floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked manicured gardens. I sat up slowly, clutching the sheet to my chest. I was naked. Oh God. Fragments of the night before came flooding back. The risotto. The confession. The tears. The library. The way he'd lifted me onto his desk like I weighed nothing. The way he'd looked at me—like I was something precious, something he'd been starving for. I pressed my fingers to my li
His mouth left mine, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down my throat. His teeth scraped against my collarbone, and I arched into him, a needy sound escaping my lips. "You're so responsive," he murmured against my skin. "So beautiful, so pretty" I moaned in capable of words. His hands found the hem of my dress, fingers hooking beneath the delicate lace. He pulled it up slowly, deliberately, his eyes never leaving mine. The cool air hit my heated skin, and I shivered—but not from the cold. "Arms up." I obeyed without hesitation. He tugged the dress over my head and tossed it aside. I sat there in nothing but a pale pink lace bra and matching panties, suddenly self-conscious under his burning gaze. "Fuck," he breathed, stepping back to look at me. "You're even more beautiful than I imagined." His eyes raked over my body like a physical touch, leaving trails of fire in their wake. My nipples peaked against the lace, hard and aching for attention. "Lucien…" I squirmed under his sc
I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. His words hung in the air between us, heavy and electric. "Forget him?" I repeated, my voice barely above a whisper. Lucien leaned back slightly, giving me space but never breaking eye contact. He was giving me an out. A chance to laugh it off, to retreat back into the safety of my complicated relationship with Jake. But God, I didn't want to. "How would you even do that?" I asked, surprising myself with the boldness in my voice. He reached for my hand, his fingers brushing against my knuckles before turning it palm up. He traced a lazy circle in the center of my palm, and I felt it everywhere—a direct line from his touch to the ache building low in my belly. "You've been with him for what? Two years?" Lucien continued, his voice smooth as aged whiskey. "And in all that time, has he ever made you feel like the most beautiful woman in the room?" My silence was answer enough. "Has he ever looked at you the way I'm looking at you right now
I couldn't believe what I had just heard. The words echoed in my skull. Jake was certainly with another girl. My heart hammered a frantic, painful rhythm against my ribs. I called him. It rang. And rang. And then, voicemail. I decided not to think the worst. Not yet. Maybe I was just overthinking it. I tried to promise myself I wouldn't jump to conclusions, but the cold dread coiling in my stomach was a truth I couldn't ignore. I went to the closet to change into the clothes Lucien had dropped off earlier. It was a light, floral dress, delicate lace hanging from the sleeves. I ran my fingers over the soft fabric. A small, genuine smile touched my lips. He knew my taste, sometimes better than I knew it myself. I went downstairs to meet Lucien in the dining room. He was already seated, a glass of wine in his hand, the low light catching the sharp planes of his face. "Finally, you decided to show up," he said, his voice a low rumble, his eyes still fixed on the amber liquid in his g
My eyes widened. “No, sir.” “I think you did.” I lowered my gaze. “I'm sorry.” He shook his head, a faint smile touching his lips. “You haven't changed at all, Mirabella.” His brows drew together, but he chose to let it go. He opened the car door, and I quickly followed him inside the house. He handed his keys to a young man who immediately went ahead to park the Ferrari properly. I watched Lucian unlock the front door with his thumbprint before pushing it open. The living room was almost completely dark, except for a small lamp glowing in the corner. “Come with me,” he said in his deep baritone. I clamped my legs together as my pussy throbbed. "Get hold of yourself, Mira" I whispered, biting my lower lips, holding in the urge. He paused and turned to me. "What?" he asked, his brows drawn closely. "No, nothing" I said almost in a moan. He glanced through and continued walking up the stairs and I followed I followed him upstairs. “This is your roo







