All Chapters of Claimed By A Father And Son: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

~Elena~ “You’re not gonna cry,” I muttered as I stomped down the fucking hallway like it owed me money. “You’re not gonna turn around. You’re not gonna beg. You’re not gonna crawl for a dick that doesn’t even deserve your throat.” (Even though you want to.) “Shut up,” I hissed, this time at my own wolf. She growled low in the back of my mind, pacing with her tongue out like she was drunk. Like she liked being humiliated. Like she liked the taste of that bastard Alpha’s voice when he said: “Then I’ll go fuck Veronica instead.” I clenched my teeth. “You’re not gonna cry,” I whispered again, wiping my face with my sleeve. “You’re not gonna crawl back. You’re gonna go to Raina and Zia’s dorm, you’re gonna lie down, you’re gonna cry like a normal bitch into your pillow and maybe masturbate and not think about his cock.” (Liar.) “I hate you,” I whispered. (No you don’t.) “You’re not going back,” I said again, louder. “You’re not crawling.

~Elena~ “Gotcha,” I whispered like a freakin’ cartoon villain as I pulled the bottle out from the fridge like it was the Holy Grail. (You think this is gonna help?) My wolf’s voice slithered into my head like she had been waiting to strike. (You’re gonna get lightheaded, horny, and reckless in five minutes. Mark my words.) “Well that’s the point, isn’t it?” I hissed under my breath, twisting the cap off with unnecessary rage. “I deserve this. I deserve to make bad decisions. I’m owed at least two.” (You’re owed therapy and holy water; not tequila, you idiot.) I took a long, messy gulp. The burn hit my throat like a slap from the Moon Goddess herself and I immediately choked. “Oh my f–” I wheezed, grabbing the counter for support as the taste violated every part of my soul. “Lucian drinks this? What is this, lava-flavored paint thinner?!” (Told you. You’re gonna black out and wake up in someone’s dungeon. And not the fun kind.) “Shut up,” I coughed, wiping my mouth

~Lucian~ I watched her remove the hoodie like she was peeling away my self-control with every inch of bare skin she revealed. Her tits came into view like a fucking vision, big and round and soft and swollen from the heat she pretended not to feel. My cock throbbed instantly, thick and straining against my pants, and I knew..no matter how many shots I’d taken, no matter how much guilt I’d buried..there wasn’t a goddamn drug in this world that could numb the effect she had on me. She stood there, topless, fearless, with that slight tremble in her fingers and that fire in her eyes that told me she knew exactly what she was doing to me. She wasn’t just undressing to taunt me. She was undressing to dismantle me. Her body was war, and I was already losing. Every inch of skin she exposed became another nail in the coffin of my control, and when her hands moved to cup those perfect fucking tits like she was offering them to the devil himself, I almost lost it right there. “Yo

~Lucian~ I didn’t kiss her. I devoured. Teeth first, biting the swell of her lower lip until she hissed, then licking into her mouth like I was trying to crawl inside her soul through her tongue. She fucking moaned as she gripped my shoulders. I broke the kiss only to drag my mouth down her throat, over the collarbone, straight to those tits she’d tortured me with. I sucked one nipple into my mouth so hard her back bowed off the bed and she screamed my name. “Lucian—fuck—too much…” “Good,” I growled against her skin. “You wanted torture. Take it.” I switched to the other breast, sucking, biting, leaving red marks that would darken to purple soon. Her hands flew to my hair, yanking, trying to pull me off and pull me closer at the same time. Perfect. Fucking perfect. My free hand slid between her thighs. She was drenched. So wet I could hear it when I pushed two fingers inside her without warning. Her cunt clenched instantly, greedy, fluttering like it was tryin

~~Next Morning~ ~Elena~ I was in the back row, legs crossed under the tiny flip-up desk, pen tapping against my notebook like it owed me money. Professor Something was droning on about post-colonial whatever—the words blurred into white noise about five minutes in. I couldn’t focus. Couldn’t even pretend. My pussy was still sore. Not the crazy pain anymore, but that deep, delicious ache that throbbed every time I shifted in my seat. A reminder. Lucian had fucked me like he was trying to rewrite my DNA, and my body hadn’t forgotten a single thrust. I could still feel the ghost of his cum leaking out of me this morning when I showered. And the whole time I was rinsing his marks off my skin, my brain kept circling back to one sentence. “Not even my father can take you from me.” But me? I heard it different. I heard challenge. Because the second those words left his mouth, my mind flashed to his dad—Mr. fucking Blackthorne. Right now, in the middle of this boring