CHAPTER 105: ONE HUNDRED & FIVE

"Does it hurt?" he asks, teasing one inch, two, before slamming home again.

Tears roll down my cheeks. "Yes."

"Good."

Lucien fucks me with the single-minded devotion of a dying man hunting the gods. As if his very existence depends on it. Through the glass, I see him watch every nuance, every detail of every expression.

We don’t have sex. We become it.

Not the tender or rough, fleeting kind humans like to place names to, but something truly elemental. And for the first time, I think sex is something that should indeed be sacred. Because no one should have this kind of power of anyone.

Because when he’s in me, I feel the space around us changing, charging, like dark alchemy, where the more he touches me, the more I need him to. Having sex with Lucien sates my needs. Fuels it. Sates it. Ignites it. Sates it. It feeds the monster inside, calms it, encourages it and then leashes it into submission. It’s a never ending cycle.

I want it to end, only because I know if we keep at this, there’ll come a time where I get addicted to it, where his very smell makes me his mindless whore.

But I don’t want it to end, either. Because he’s like a drug in my blood and I’m so damned high.

My thighs slap murderously against his, the pain twisting sharply like a knife, entwining with something so sweet, so sinful, I mewl my next breaths.

Already mindless, I think as my eyes cross, a string pulling tight in my stomach.

"Open them," he growls.

And I know that every time I see a sword stand, I will remember what it feels like to be fucked against one. Every time I see a mirror, I will see my breasts, red and swollen, glistening with sweat, bouncing as I am slammed over and over into that broad back. I will see the hunger for him in my eyes. I will see the realization stricken across my face that I’ll never be done with Lucien. It’ll never be a one-time thing, or just-sex. I will see that he has broken me, not in the way my spine arches at an impossible angle, or my shoulders are one more vicious pull away from being wrenched from their sockets, or the way my thighs are spread so far apart, I know I’ll not be walking out of this hall myself, or the way he wraps my hair tight, twice around his fist, wrenching my body back solely by the strands.

No. He has broken me in a way that no man will ever be able to touch me right. He has broken me in, in the way the owner of the falcon breaks in his bird.

And when I am unable to form a single thought around the spasms of my inner muscles contracting and milking out yet another orgasm, he pulls out of me.

And what ensues is the filthiest thing I’ve ever experienced.

He yanks the chain off the steel pell, and I start to sway forward, legs spindly, but he grabs me off the stand and forces me to my knees before him. One fist remains in my hair, forcing my head back to stare at every large inch of him, and the other closes around his shaft, stroking.

His head is cocked to the side, silver brow delicately pinched together, eyes taking in my lust addled features. He exhales in steady measured breaths, and the amount of control I see in his eyes, now fully violet, as bursts of thick-white cum splays all over my lips is incomprehensible.

He paints me with it, wrenching my head further back so he can watch more of it run down my neck, along my breasts.

There is no exertion. Not one harsh breath or exhale. Just the slow movement of his fist clenched tight around him.

Tingles spread low in my belly, my toes curling tight. I swallow, wanting him in my mouth, even if I know he won’t quite fit. Even if I know he’s more likely to shatter my vocal cords.

My tongue darts out of my mouth, licking the faintest trace of cum lingering on my bottom lip. My pulse pounds harder between my sore legs and my pussy grinds against the heel of my foot.

His breath quickens at that and he watches me grind against my own foot until my eyes glaze over. He laughs as my body jerks again, pulling me up against him,. "Fuck, Valka. Don’t do that."

My forehead presses on his chest, an ecstatic moan muffling against the fabric. The chains are taken off my wrist gently and I clutch at his shirt tightly.

His arms come around me, and he doesn’t seem to mind that I’m smearing him with cum. He tips up my chin and kisses me with as much hunger he’d fucked me with.

He’s still hard against me, but this kiss is different. It’s softer, his groan echoing in my mouth. Our tongue tangle as he writes his name into mine. Sucks off the taste of us from my mouth. His thumb works my jaw, his hand tilting my head gently, and I don’t feel like his mindless pet anymore.

I feel like something beautiful and special. The hunger crackling between us gives way into something soft and vulnerable, and I don’t know what to do with all these feelings. Tears sting the back of my eyes and they trail down my cheeks, uncontrollably. For no reason I can decipher.

Lucien breaks the kiss, staring down at me with worry. "Did I hurt you?"

It’s a more different question from earlier. He’s asking if he’s hurt my feelings. I shake my head, diverting his attention away from my warring feelings.

I like you. A lot.

"Just my pride," I answer instead, inching my chin downwards. "Look. It’s all over the floor, like you wanted it to be."

His eyes widen a fraction and he barks a small, startled laugh. "You forced my hand, Valka. Not that I’m complaining."

I meet his gaze. He’s beautiful, my mate, my husband. His lips swollen, cheeks flushed, eyes intense with a focus that tells me he’s nowhere near done with me, either. I manage a smile. "The next time you truss me up like meat, I’ll carve up your dick and serve it to you."

He fixes his pants, not at all bothering with the belt as he sweeps me into his arms. I’m grateful for it, because I wouldn’t have been able to walk out of here on my own if he had left me to my devices.

My face finds the hollow of his neck just as he purrs, low and smug, "No, you won’t. You’re in love with it."

I want to tell him I’m not, and every man has a cock, and his is nothing special, but I know that’ll earn me another punishment, and my bones are a little too weary for one too soon.

So, I stay quiet, keeping my face in the hollow of his neck as he takes me up the stairs of the now emptied house, the steady thumping of his pulse lulling me into soft sleep.