“Damn right I did.” He captures my wrists, pinning them above my head with one hand. “And now I’m going to show you exactly what happens when you look at me like that in public.”
His free hand slides under the jersey, finding my breast through my bra. He palms me roughly, his thumb circling my nipple until it hardens beneath the fabric. I arch into his touch, a whimper escaping my lips.
“Please,” I gasp, trying to free my wrists from his grip. “Lucien, I need?—”
“What do you need?” he demands, his voice a dark caress against my skin. “Tell me exactly what you need.”
I struggle against his hold, loving the way his muscles flex as he keeps me pinned. “I need you to fuck me. Now. Hard. I don’t want gentle.”
His eyes flash with something dangerous and hungry. “Since you asked so nicely...”
He releases my wrists only to flip me over onto my stomach. My face presses into the mattress as he yanks my hips up, positioning me on my knees. The jersey rides up around my waist, exposing my ass clad in nothing but a black thong.
“Look at you,” he murmurs, his hand coming down hard on my ass cheek. The slap echoes through the bedroom, followed by my sharp gasp. “So fucking perfect. All mine.”
I push back against his hand, seeking more. “Again,” I demand, my voice muffled by the sheets.
He obliges, landing another stinging slap on my other cheek. The pain melts into pleasure, sending sparks of heat straight to my core. I’m already soaking wet, my panties clinging to me.
Lucien hooks his fingers into the waistband of my thong, dragging it down my legs with agonizing slowness. The cool air hits my exposed pussy, making me shiver.
“Fuck, you’re already dripping,” he observes, running one finger through my wetness. “Did watching me win get you this wet?”
“Yes,” I admit, pushing my ass higher into the air. “The whole time. Every time you looked at me. Every time you pointed.”
His finger slides inside me, curling to hit that perfect spot that makes me gasp. “And what about when I kissed you in front of everyone? Did that make you clench around my finger like you are now?”
“God, yes,” I moan, rocking back against his hand. “I’ve been thinking about your cock inside me since that moment.”
He adds a second finger, stretching me as he pumps them in and out. “You want my dick, baby? You want me to fill you up?”
I nod frantically, unable to form words as his thumb finds my clit, circling it with deliberate pressure.
“Use your words,” he commands, his voice dropping lower. “Tell me what you want.”
“I want your cock,” I gasp, my hips moving in time with his thrusting fingers. “I want you to fuck me until I can’t remember my own name.”
He withdraws his fingers, and I whimper at the loss. I hear the rustle of clothing behind me, then the distinctive sound of a belt being undone.
“Look at me,” he orders.
I turn my head over my shoulder, watching as he pushes his jeans down his thighs, freeing his cock. It stands proud and thick, the head already glistening with pre-cum. My mouth waters at the sight.
“Beautiful,” I whisper, and I mean it. Everything about him is perfect—from the broad shoulders to the defined abs to the powerful thighs. And that dick. God, that dick. He tears off the rest of his clothes until he’s naked except for the cross necklace lying across his sternum. He catches me looking at it and his fingers close around the chain and pulls it over his head.
He drags the cool metal cross down the center of my back, tracing my spine with agonizing slowness. I shiver, goosebumps rising across my skin despite the heat between us.
“God,” I whisper as the cross continues its path, dipping into the curve of my waist before sliding across my hip.
“Not God,” he corrects, his voice low and dangerous. “Me.”
The cross disappears from my view, but I feel it trailing down the back of my thigh, raising a trail of fire in its wake. When it reaches the crease where my leg meets my ass, I gasp, my fingers clutching the sheets beneath me.
“Spread your legs,” he commands, and I obey without hesitation, widening my stance.
The cross is replaced by something else. The rosary beads, cool and smooth as they drag through my wetness. I cry out as they make contact with my clit, the contrast of the cold beads against my burning flesh making me jerk forward.
“Stay still,” he growls, placing one hand on my lower back to hold me in place.
