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Lukas buries his face in the curve of my neck and cums with a roar. His cock throbs inside me, filling me with wave after wave of liquid heat. I can feel every drop, first inside me, and then on my thighs, because there’s simply too much for my body to contain.
“Feel that?” he gasps against my throat. “Feel me inside you?”
My body shudders. It’s never known anything like this before. I can’t even find the words to answer him.
“You’re mine now, Rae,” he says. “Marked. Claimed.Ruined.”
When he finally stills, he falls out of me, and both of us collapse onto the bed. I’m face down because I don’t even think I have the strength to roll over anymore.
The only sounds are us panting and the house sighing as it settles in the wind. At least, until Lukas speaks again.
“Thank you.”
I freeze, certain I’ve misheard. But he says it again.
“Christ, Rae. Thank you for trusting me with this.” His forehead presses against the back of my limp hand. “I’ll never deserve it. But I’m too selfish to let you go.”
56
RAE
[LOCK SCREEN — L. Lazarev's iPhone]
Monday, 15 December 2025 | 7:03 AM
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Lukas reaches out to roll me into his arms. Without saying a word, he starts to glide the other hand up and down my body. It’s like he needs to touch every single inch, to reassure someone—himself or me, I don’t know which—that he’s put all the pieces back in their proper place and proper working order.
His fingertips trace the darkening marks on my hips where he gripped me. My wrists bear matching shadows. He tilts my chin up and studies the beard burn blooming across my throat, then lets his gaze drift lower to where the same rough abrasion decorates my breasts and my inner thighs.
When his hand slides between my legs and comes away streaked with red, his entire face crumples.
“I hurt you.” He sounds distraught.
I catch his wrist before he can pull away. Slowly, I bring his bloodied fingers to my lips and kiss them.
“You gave me everything I asked for,” I correct.
He stares at me for a long while. Then he gets out of bed, still naked and glistening with our combined juices, and disappears into the adjoining bathroom.
Water runs. I lie there, listening to the sounds of him moving around, dazed and happy. I’m still processing the fact that I’ve just had sex. I’m no longer a virgin.
I don’t regret one second of it.
Lukas returns with a warm, wet cloth and proceeds to clean me. He wipes away the evidence of my lost virginity with careful, methodical strokes. Every time he encounters a bruise, he pauses to press his lips against it, as if he can heal the mark with his kisses alone.
This is the part they don’t tell you about. Not the sex itself, but what comes afterward. The vulnerability of being seen like this, wrecked and bloody and undone, and having someone care for you like nothing in the whole history of the world has ever been quite so beautiful.
“I’ve never…” Lukas starts, then stops. His jaw works before he tries again. “In my whole life, I’ve never felt anything like that.”
I don’t know what to say, so I just reach out and touch his cheek. His beard is soft under my palm, his skin warm. He turns his face into my hand and nuzzles a kiss into my palm.
