3

Chapter 3

The penthouse door closed with a soft, final click that echoed in my chest like a gunshot.

Lucian didn’t set me down right away. He carried me through the dark entryway, past shadowed marble and low recessed lighting that painted everything in gold and midnight. My wet dress stuck to my skin, cold silk against fever-hot flesh. 

His arm under my thighs felt like iron steady, unyielding. I could feel the heat of his palm through the thin fabric, branding me where it rested possessively on my ass.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. The silence between us was thick, electric, filled with everything we weren’t saying yet.

We passed a wall of windows overlooking the storm-lashed city. Rain streaked the glass in violent silver lines. Lightning flashed once, illuminating his profile sharp jaw clenched, eyes fixed ahead like a predator who’d already decided on his prey.

My heart hammered so hard I was sure he could feel it against his chest.

He carried me straight into the bedroom.

No preamble. No polite offer of a drink or small talk. Just the wide, low bed dominating the space, black sheets already turned down like he’d known I was coming. Maybe he had. Men like him always seemed to know. 

He lowered me to my feet at the foot of the bed, slow, deliberate. My ruined heels clicked against the hardwood. I swayed tequila, adrenaline, fear and his hands caught my hips, steadying me. Holding me exactly where he wanted me.

“Look at me,” he said. Quiet command.

I lifted my eyes.

Up close in the dim light, Lucian Kane looked even more dangerous. The faint scar along his jaw caught the glow. His midnight-blue gaze pinned me in place, stripping me bare without touching a button.

“You’re shaking again, princess.”

“I’m… cold,” I lied.

One dark brow lifted. “Liar.”

His thumbs stroked once along my hipbones—slow, deliberate circles through wet silk. My breath hitched. Heat pooled low in my belly, sudden and shameful.

He stepped closer until our bodies almost touched. I could feel the heat rolling off him, smell that dark leather-and-smoke cologne mixed with clean male skin. My nipples tightened painfully against the clinging fabric.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, voice rough velvet. “Say the word and I’ll put you in a cab. You’ll wake up tomorrow with nothing but a hangover and regret.”

I swallowed hard. My tongue felt thick.

“I don’t want to stop.”

His eyes darkened. “Then you don’t get to be shy. You don’t get to hide. You asked to feel something. So you’re going to feel every fucking thing I give you.”

A whimper escaped me before I could stop it.

His mouth curved just that cruel, beautiful hint of a smirk.

“Good girl.”

He reached behind me. The zipper of my dress rasped down in one smooth pull. Cold air kissed my spine. The wet silk peeled away from my skin like a second shed layer. He tugged it over my shoulders, down my arms, let it pool at my feet.

I stood there in nothing but black lace panties already damp and the remnants of ruined mascara.

Lucian stepped back half a pace. Looked.

Really looked.

His gaze dragged over me like a physical touch breasts heaving with every shallow breath, nipples dark and aching, stomach quivering, thighs pressed tight together to hide how wet I already was.

“Beautiful,” he said, low. Almost reverent. Then darker: “And so fucking needy.”

I flushed from chest to hairline.

He circled me slowly. A predator inspecting his catch. I felt his eyes on every inch my ass, the curve of my waist, the vulnerable nape of my neck where my hair clung in wet strands.

When he came back in front of me, he tipped my chin up with one finger.

“On your knees, princess.”

My legs folded before my brain caught up. I sank down, knees hitting the plush rug. Eye level with the thick ridge straining against his suit pants.

My mouth watered. Shamefully. Instantly.

He didn’t touch himself yet. Just watched me stare.

“You’ve never begged for cock before, have you?”

I shook my head, cheeks burning.

“Words, Lila.”

“No,” I whispered. “Never.”

His hand slid into my hair, fingers threading through the damp strands. Not gentle. Not cruel. Just… owning.

“Then you’re going to learn tonight.”

He tugged once sharp enough to make me gasp. My scalp tingled. Fresh heat flooded between my legs.

“Unzip me.”

My hands shook as I reached for his belt. Leather whispered through the loops. The buckle clinked. Then the zipper slow, torturous. I pulled it down tooth by tooth.

His cock sprang free thick, veined, already glistening at the tip. Bigger than Ethan’s. Much bigger. The sight made my core clench hard around nothing.

Lucian wrapped his fist around the base, stroked once, slow. A bead of pre-cum welled up. My tongue darted out instinctively.

He chuckled low, dark. “Greedy little thing.”

He guided the head to my lips. Smearing wetness across them like gloss.

“Open.”

I did.

He didn’t thrust. Not yet. Just fed me the tip slow, letting me feel the stretch of my mouth, the salty taste exploding on my tongue. I moaned around him without meaning to.

“That’s it,” he growled. “Suck.”

I hollowed my cheeks, swirling my tongue, desperate to please. Desperate to feel wanted. His hand tightened in my hair, controlling the pace. Shallow at first teasing me with just the head then deeper. Deeper.

My throat fluttered. I gagged once. He didn’t pull back. Just held me there, letting me adjust, letting tears prick my eyes again but different tears this time. Not heartbreak. Hunger.

“Good girl,” he rasped. “Taking it so well for someone who’s never begged before.”

He pulled out with a wet pop, strings of saliva connecting us. I whimpered at the loss.

“Not yet,” he said. “I’m not coming in your mouth tonight.”

He hauled me up by the arms effortless and tossed me onto the bed. I landed on my back, legs splayed, chest heaving.

He shed his jacket. Shirt. Trousers. Every movement precise, controlled. When he was naked, the sight stole my breath muscled chest dusted with dark hair, abs carved, thighs powerful. Scars here and there. A man who’d lived hard and won every fight.

He crawled over me, caging me with his body. Heat poured off him. His cock dragged hot and heavy along my inner thigh

.

“Look at me,” he ordered again.

I did.

He hooked two fingers in the lace of my panties and ripped them away like they offended him. Cool air hit my soaked folds. I cried out.

“So fucking wet,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Dripping for a stranger who’s about to ruin you.”

His hand slid between my legs. Two fingers parted me, stroked once through the slickness light, teasing.

I bucked.

He pinned my hip down with his free hand. “Stay still.”

I tried. God, I tried.

He circled my clit slow, maddening circles. Pressure building, coiling tight. My hips jerked anyway.

He stopped.

I whined.

“Beg,” he said simply.

“Please,” I gasped. “Please touch me.”

“More.”

“Please, Lucian—Daddy—” The word slipped out, unbidden. I froze.

His eyes flared. Dark, dangerous delight.

“Say it again.”

“Daddy,” I whispered, trembling. “Please… make me come.”

He rewarded me with one hard, perfect stroke over my clit.

My back bowed off the bed.

Then he pinned both my wrists above my head with one massive hand.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he growled. “You don’t get to hide when you come.”

His fingers plunged inside me two, thick, curling just right. His thumb worked my clit in ruthless circles.

Pleasure slammed into me like a freight train.

I screamed.

He didn’t let up. Kept fucking me with his fingers, deep, relentless, while his mouth came down on my nipple sucking hard, teeth grazing.

The orgasm ripped through me violent, shattering. My whole body seized, thighs clamping around his hand, vision whiting out. I sobbed his name Daddy over and over like a prayer.

He worked me through it. Slowed only when I started shaking too hard to breathe.

When I finally collapsed, limp and wrecked, he withdrew his fingers. Brought them to my lips.

“Clean them.”

I sucked obediently, tasting myself on him. Salty. Sweet. Mine.

He kissed me then first real kiss. Slow. Deep. Claiming. His tongue owned my mouth the way his fingers had owned my pussy.

When he pulled back, his voice was gravel.

“That was just the warm-up, princess.”

He flipped me onto my stomach. Pulled my hips up. Spread me wide.

I felt the blunt head of him nudge my entrance.

“Last chance,” he rasped against my ear. “Tell me to stop.”

I pushed back instead greedy, desperate.

“Ruin me, Daddy.”

He thrust in hard, deep, all at once.

I screamed again.

And the night really began.