It’s like a bomb has gone off. White flashes in my eyes, and all I can hear is the pounding of my heart in my ears. Lucian is so big it hurts, but I need him anyways. I want the pain. I want the pleasure it promises.
“Say thank you for making you prep for me,” he says, his hips itching to thrust.
“Thank you! Thank you!” I’m delirious from the feel of him straining inside me, and the ribbon keeping me in place.
And then he begins to move. Lucian pounds his hips against my ass cheeks like a delicious punishment.
My nails scrape the polished wood of the desk, trying to keep myself linked to reality.
“Such a good boy,” he praises. “You’re so beautiful. So needy. Jesus Christ.”
It seems he’s only barely holding on as well. His words scatter across my back.
“Lucian! Oh, please, harder. Harder, please.” I want to arch my back. I want to touch him. I want to trace his scars with my tongue, but I’m pinned underneath him.
“Can I come inside you, sweetheart?” He groans.
“Yes, yes. Please.” His cock hits all the right spots. I want to feel warm. I need to be soaked with him.
“I’m going to—fuck! Ah!” I pant against the desk.
I feel Lucian’s hand massaging my cock. “Go ahead, you know I love to clean up the mess.”
He tugs the bow, making me shriek. “Fuck!”
I come hard just as he slams so deep inside me I fear it’ll tear me in half. I feel a wet heat coat my core.
I collapse against the desk and pass out in total bliss.
9
Lucian
“Elias?” I ask.
I slip out of him and turn his face towards me. He fucking passed out. I check his pulse. His heart seems like it’s trying to jump out of his neck but nothing out of the ordinary.
I chuckle at his blissful sleeping face, before gathering him in my arms and walking through the door that connects my private office with my bedroom. I lay him on my bed gently, careful not to wake him. Bruises in the shape of my hands are starting to bloom around his hips.
I start to wonder if it was too much for him, if I pushed him over the line. If I hurt him.
My heart quivers in my chest. No. No I can’t worry for him. That’s not what this is.
I shrug on my robe and go into the black marble bathroom. I run hot water into the jacuzzi tub, dropping some lavender oil into the water. Do I have anything for bruises? I look inmy medicine cabinet digging around the emergency medical supplies.
Nothing. I should probably stock up on some basics if Elias and I are to continue our sexual affairs. I can’t have my guest bearing my marks even if he’s supposedly my prisoner.
I call Mara for some tea before I return to the bedroom. Elias is asleep in a ball on my bed. He looks fragile like this. I trace his cheekbones with my fingertips. His face is always so hard and angry. A mask to protect himself, but here, like this he’s so...
Beautiful.
The thought surprises me. I am not gentle. I do not write poems of my lovers’ names. I leave them marked, bruised, and wanting. But for some reason I don’t want Elias to feel that way.
I carry the young man to the bath dipping his body in gently. He sighs as the water envelops him, rippling along his skin. I take a washcloth and try to clean the mess away. The lube, the come, the violence. I clean it all away until he inhales deeply.
Elias’s eyes flutter open. His eyebrows scrunch in an adorable way as he tries to place himself.
“Lucian?”
