He pulls out, and I chase him with my tongue. He laughs. “I want inside you.”
He pushes me onto my back and crawls up my body.
I feel like this is a dream. It has to be. Nothing has ever felt this good in real life.Nothing.
He lines himself up with my entrance. “This might hurt,” he warns.
I nod, biting my lip as he pushes inside me slowly, so fucking slowly, stretching me open in ways I’ve never imagined.
“Be careful with your bandage,” I tell him. I don’t want him to hurt.
He kisses me.
The pain is not sharp but a dull ache, a feeling of fullness that has me writhing. He’s big and he stretches me in a way that makes me wetter.
He bottoms out, his hips flush against mine, and for a moment we just stay like that, our bodies joined in the most intimate way possible.
“You’re my home,” he tells me, our eyes locked.
He starts slow, dragging his cock out and then pushing it back in. His thrusts are slow, deep, and deliberate, each one hitting a spot inside me that makes my toes curl.
But as the pleasure builds, so does his pace, until he’s pumping hard and fast, his cock slamming into me with a force that is pain and pleasure.
My vision is blurring again. Then his hand reaches between our bodies, sliding down between my thighs. He readjusts so he can go deeper.
I can’t stand this. It’s too hot. Too deep. Too…much.
His fingers rub my clit. I squeeze my eyes shut. He stills.
“Eyes on me,” he orders again.
I let out a mewl as I open my eyes. I’m feeling so much. Everything.
“Like that. Let me see.”
He rubs faster, harder, and then?—
“Lucian!” I scream as the orgasm he’s been coaxing tears through me, my body convulsing around him.
He growls, his hips stuttering as he follows me over the edge, his cock pulsing inside me as he fills me with his cum.
We collapse together in a heap of limbs, our breaths coming in ragged gasps. He pulls me close, pressing a kiss to my forehead.
“Mine,” he murmurs against my skin.
“Yours,” I agree.
We lie entangled in the sheets, skin warm against skin, hearts still racing.
Lucian’s fingers trace my spine like he’s memorizing it, committing every inch of me to memory in case this is a dream.
“How do you feel?” he asks.
“Complete,” I tell him.
21
THE LIE
