4

 Chapter 4

Lucian didn’t give me time to breathe.

The first thrust buried him to the hilt thick, unrelenting, stretching me so wide I felt split open in the best, most terrifying way. My scream dissolved into a choked moan as my walls fluttered around him, trying to adjust, trying to take every brutal inch.

“Fuck,” he growled against my ear, voice raw. “So tight. So fucking perfect.”

He didn’t move at first. Just stayed deep, letting me feel him throb inside me, letting my body learn the shape of him. My cheek pressed into the sheets, ass high, wrists still pinned in one of his massive hands behind my back now. The position left me helpless open, exposed, owned.

Then he pulled out almost all the way slow, torturous until just the head kissed my entrance.

I whimpered. Empty. Aching.

“Beg for it again, princess.”

“Please” The word tore out of me, desperate. “Please, Daddy, fuck me. Hard. I need it.”

He slammed back in.

My vision blurred. Pleasure-pain exploded through me, white-hot. He set a punishing rhythm deep, deliberate strokes that hit that spot inside me every single time. The wet slap of skin on skin filled the room, obscene and endless. My breasts bounced with each thrust, nipples grazing the sheets, sending sparks straight to my clit.

“You feel that?” he rasped, grinding deep on the next stroke, circling his hips so the base of him dragged over my swollen clit. “That’s what a real man feels like. Not that pathetic excuse you almost married.”

Tears leaked from the corners of my eyes not from pain, but from the overwhelming rush of finally being wanted. Taken. Used like I’d always secretly craved.

“Yes—God, yes—” I sobbed. “More. Please, more.”

He released my wrists only to fist my hair, yanking my head back so my spine arched painfully sweet. His other hand cracked across my ass sharp, stinging.

I cried out, clenching hard around him.

“You like that,” he said. Not a question. “Dirty little girl. Getting off on being spanked while I ruin this tight cunt.”

Another smack. Harder. The heat bloomed across my skin, spreading straight to my core.

“Yes—Daddy—fuck—”

He fucked me faster now, relentless. 

The bed creaked under us. My arms gave out; I collapsed forward onto my elbows, ass still high, taking every punishing thrust. His balls slapped against my clit with each drive home wet, rhythmic torture.

I was close again. Too soon. Too much.

“Don’t you dare come yet,” he ordered, voice like gravel. “Not until I say.”

I whined, thighs trembling. “I can’t..I’m gonna..”

He pulled out completely.

The sudden emptiness made me sob. “No..no, please”

He flipped me onto my back in one smooth motion. Spread my legs wide, hooked them over his shoulders. Looked down at me eyes blazing, cock glistening with my arousal.

“Eyes on me,” he commanded. “Watch who’s fucking you.”

He thrust back in deeper angle this time. I screamed his name.

He leaned down, caging me, forearms braced beside my head. His mouth crashed over mine brutal, claiming. Tongue fucking my mouth in time with his cock. I tasted myself on him. Tasted us.

One hand slid between us. Rough thumb found my clit rubbing fast, merciless circles.

“Come,” he growled against my lips. “Come all over Daddy’s cock. Now.”

The command shattered me.

The orgasm hit like a tidal wave harder than the first, violent, blinding. My whole body seized, back bowing off the mattress, walls pulsing around him in frantic waves. I screamed into his mouth, nails raking down his back, marking him.

He didn’t stop.

Kept fucking me through it harder, faster chasing his own release now. His rhythm faltered, breaths turning ragged.

“Where do you want it, princess?” he rasped. “Tell me.”

“Inside” The word flew out before I could think. “Please fill me up. I want to feel it.”

A guttural groan ripped from his throat.

He slammed in one last time deep, deep and came with a roar. Hot pulses flooded me, thick and endless. I felt every spurt, felt him throb inside me as he marked me from the inside out.

He stayed buried, grinding slow, lazy circles, milking every last drop while I trembled beneath him.

When he finally pulled out, I whimpered at the loss. Warmth leaked from me his cum, mine, mixed. Filthy. Perfect.

He didn’t let me wallow.

Lucian rolled to his side, pulling me against his chest. One arm banded around my waist, possessive. His free hand stroked down my spine surprisingly gentle now. Soothing the places he’d just wrecked.

“Breathe,” he murmured against my hair. “You did so good.”

I buried my face in his neck, inhaling smoke and leather and sex. My body still buzzed, oversensitive, wrecked in the best way. Tears slipped out again quiet this time. Relief. Release. Something dangerously close to safety.

He felt them. Thumb brushed them away.

“No crying unless it’s because I’m making you come too hard,” he said softly. Teasing, but tender underneath.

I laughed shaky, raw. “Too late.”

He kissed my forehead. “Then cry all you want, princess. I’ve got you.”

We lay like that for long minutes rain still pounding the windows, city lights flickering through the streaks. His heartbeat thumped steady under my cheek. Strong. Real.

Eventually he shifted, easing me onto my back again. He disappeared for a moment came back with a warm cloth. Cleaned me gently between my legs, careful with the tenderness there. Then himself.

When he slid back into bed, he pulled the sheets over us. Tucked me against him like I belonged there.

“Sleep,” he said. Not a suggestion.

I wanted to argue wanted to ask what this was, what tomorrow looked like but exhaustion crashed over me like a wave.

My eyelids drooped.

Just before I slipped under, I whispered, “Thank you.”

His arm tightened around me.

“Sleep, Lila.”

I did.

But when morning came gray light filtering through the rain-streaked windows I woke alone.

The bed was cold on his side.

Panic clawed up my throat.

His clothes were gone. No note. No number.

Just the faint scent of him on the sheets, the delicious ache between my legs, and the crushing realization that last night might have been exactly what I’d asked for

A beautiful, filthy mistake. 

I sat up, hugging my knees, staring at the empty space where he’d been.

And for the first time since walking in on Ethan and Mia, I didn’t feel broken.

I felt… awake.

But also terrified. 

Because I had no idea who Lucian Kane really was.

Or how to find him again.