Page 82 of King of Rage

One hand gripped her jaw roughly, tilting her head for better access as he ravaged her collarbone with harsh, open-mouthed kisses, his tongue sliding over her flesh between each mark he left. He growled again, drunk and rough, pulling her closer as if he wanted to crawl under her skin and never leave.

Stella could feel the heat radiating from him, the raggedness of his breath, the madness in his touch.

His hands slipped between the buttons of her blouse, tearing them apart one by one with impatient, jerky tugs until the fabric gaped open. Her chest rose and fell with every breath, and Lucius wasted no time. He buried his face between her breasts like a man long deprived, releasing a guttural groan as his hands cupped both mounds with rough, possessive reverence.

“God, so fucking soft,” he rasped, his voice thick and strained. His thumbs brushed over her hardened peaks, watching her tremble. Then his mouth descended, and everything else faded away.

He licked slow, searing trails across the curve of one breast and then the other. His tongue circled each nipple in teasing laps before he took one into his mouth—hard, wet, and hungry.

“Lucius!” The heat of his mouth made her arch into him, her back taut as she gasped his name.

He switched between them without pause, sucking, licking, and biting softly—only to soothe the sting with gentle strokes of his tongue. Her hands flew to his shoulders, fingers clutching at his shirt, nails digging into his skin with every pass of his mouth.

Then, groaning with pure need, he pressed both of her breasts together, palms squeezing with insistent force, and took both swollen tips into his mouth at once.

The sight of him—his mouth wide, tongue flicking back and forth rapidly, devouring her as if he couldn’t get enough—made her entire body shudder.

“Lucius,” she cried out, her voice cracking, head falling back as her thighs clenched around him.

But he was too far gone. His hands roamed everywhere, gripping and claiming. One slid down to her skirt, pushing the soft fabric up over her hips until she was completely exposed. He didn’t stop to admire—he simply needed her bare.

With a swift motion, he yanked down her panties, dragging them down her legs and tossing them aside as if they were in his way. She barely had time to register the rush of cool air against her bare thighs before his hand caught both of her wrists, drawing them behind her back.

He held them there with one strong hand, restrained yet secure, while the other moved to unzip his pants. The sound of the zipper echoed in the charged air.

He freed himself, thick and hard, the tip already flushed with need. Then his hand found her waist again, gripping her firmly.

“Ride me,” he commanded, his voice hoarse with lust. “Just like this. Hands behind you. I want to watch every second of you falling apart.”

He positioned her above him, guiding her down, inch by slow inch.

“Mhmm…” Stella gasped, eyes wide and lips parted, as he filled her deeper and deeper until he was fully seated inside her, her legs trembling from the stretch.

The first roll of her hips was tentative and shaky.

But Lucius wasn’t patient. “Move,” he growled, his fingers tightening around her waist.

She obeyed. She rocked against him, slow at first, the drag of his length inside her eliciting cries with every thrust. Her breathing grew ragged, and her head fell forward.

“Oh… Hah… A-Ahh…”

His grip on her hips tightened, taking control as he thrust up into her in a rhythm that was rougher and faster now, holding her tight as she rode him with messy, erratic need. Her moans echoed within the car, while his were low, primal, and hot against her skin as he whispered filthy words into her ear.

Again. And again. Each round melted into the next, the build-up turning frantic—her body clenching around him, trembling with each climax, only for him to keep going.

Sweat slicked her skin, her thighs shaking uncontrollably; she could barely hold herself upright. With her wrists still pinned behind her back, her body moved only because he willed it to. He was rough and impatient.

A growl rumbled from his chest as he slammed up into her one final time, biting down on her shoulder to muffle his groan as he spilled deep inside her—his body shuddering beneath hers. And still, he held her close, his breath hot against her neck.

Then, he switched positions, lifting her as if she weighed nothing and turning her around, pressing her chest against the hard material of the car while he took her from behind. The leather squeaked under her grip, her body trembling as he filled her again, deeper this time.

“Ah!” she cried out, her body quaking so much she could barely move.

His hand tangled in her hair, yanking her head back as he thrust into her hard, the sound of skin meeting skin echoing through the dark car.

“Still have the strength to cry out?” he growled in her ear, his voice thick with lust and a dangerous edge of amusement. “Not for long.”

She couldn’t answer, could barely think. He didn’t let up, holding her hips firm as he pounded into her with raw desperation that made her legs shake. One hand slid around to rub her until she was sobbing into the dashboard, coming again and again until her knees buckled. But he didn’t stop. He pulled her back into his lap and forced her to ride him once more, his hands guiding her rhythm, his mouth glued to her skin, biting her shoulder and sucking the curve of her collarbone as though he were drunk on her taste.