Page 30 of Bought and Enjoyed

His crude words sent me over the edge. I screamed as my climax hit, my inner walls clamping around my sponsor’s driving hardness.

Lucas growled as he felt my inner walls tighten around him. “That’s it,” he panted. “Milk my cock with that tight little cunt.”

He drove into me even harder, chasing his own release. The force of his thrusts pushed me up the bed until my head was pressed against the headboard. Lucas gripped my thighs harder, pulling me back onto his cock with each powerful stroke.

“I’m going to fill this sweet pussy,” he growled. “Mark you as mine from the inside out.”

With a final, brutal thrust, Lucas buried himself to the hilt inside me. I felt his cock pulse as he emptied himself deep in my womb.The sensation of his hot seed flooding me triggered another small orgasm, my pussy fluttering around his shaft.

Lucas collapsed on top of me, his muscular body pinning me to the mattress. We lay there for long moments, both panting heavily as we came down from our shared high. I could feel his heart pounding against my chest, his breath hot on my neck.

Finally, Lucas pushed himself up on his elbows, gazing down at me with an expression I couldn’t quite read. His eyes roamed over my flushed face, taking in my surely disheveled hair and panting lips.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, almost to himself.

He pulled out of me slowly, and I whimpered at the loss. I felt empty without him inside me, my well-used pussy clenching around emptiness.

Lucas stood and began to undress, his movements slow and deliberate. I watched through half-lidded eyes as he removed his shirt, revealing his chiseled torso. Every perfectly defined muscle spoke of hours spent training on the soccer field. Scars and bruises from recent matches marked his golden skin like witnesses to his dedication and skill.

He shrugged off his trousers and boxer briefs, standing gloriously naked before me. In the soft lamplight, he looked like a Greek god come to life. I drank in the sight of him—broad shoulders tapering to narrow hips, powerful thighs, and his impressive manhood, still semi-erect.

Lucas’ eyes roved over my body as well, taking in every curve and plane. His gaze felt almost physical, leaving tingles in its wake. A small smile played at the corners of his mouth.

“Scoot over,ma chère,” he murmured.

I obliged, wincing slightly as I moved. My body ached in places I’d never felt before, a delicious soreness that reminded me of our passionate coupling. Lucas slid into bed beside me, his warm skin pressing against mine.

With gentle hands, he gathered me close, tucking my head under his chin. One large hand splayed across my lower back, the other cradling the back of my head. I nestled into his embrace, breathing in his masculine scent—a heady mix of expensive cologne, clean sweat, and something uniquely Lucas. I fell asleep before I could even try to find an adjective for it.

CHAPTER 13

Alice

Lucas had gone when I awoke. I didn’t mind, after I got over the initial, small pang of absence. I wanted—needed—time to process on my own. Try as I might to think it all through, or even to approach the memories in my mind, my thoughts just seemed to bounce off the mental image of Lucas’ face looming over me as he held me open and drove his hardness into my desperately needy pussy.

As I drank my coffee, as I spread butter on my piece of baguette, as I chewed and swallowed and descended the stairs and walked to my very first lecture… every time I tried to instruct my brain to try to figure out how I felt about having been whipped and fucked by an internationally famous, unbelievably handsome football star, all that happened inside my mind was that I saw Lucas’ cool blue eyes looking into mine as he fucked me.

Each time, I had to turn my mental gaze away, because of what happened in my body when the memory began to unfold not justin my head but in my distractingly stiff nipples, my distressingly tingling clit, my suddenly aching pussy.

Sitting in the lecture hall, though, among other students, listening to a world-renowned scholar delivering what I knew intellectually was a fascinating presentation about the appropriation of the daily life of peasants by the nobility in the fourteenth century, I found myself unable to stop the memory from unrolling in my mind over and over.

Lucas’ commanding presence, his skilled hands, the exquisite pain and pleasure he had wrought in my body. His face at dinner, smiling above his wineglass… his face when he told me to take off my clothes… his face when he tasted me, down there…

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, acutely aware of the lingering soreness between my legs. My cheeks flushed as I recalled how thoroughly Lucas had claimed me, how he had stretched and filled me in ways I’d never imagined. The memory of his deep, growling voice calling me his ‘little whore’ sent an unwelcome jolt of arousal through me.

Shame and desire warred within me as I struggled to reconcile my scholarly aspirations with my newfound role as Lucas’ plaything. Was this really who I was now? A kept woman, existing for the pleasure of a man I barely knew? Though I should have found the lecture much more interesting than the memories of the previous night—or I told myself that, anyway—everything about Lucas Moreau seemed a million times more captivating than the life of a medieval peasant.

And yet… I couldn’t deny the thrill that coursed through me at the thought of seeing Lucas again. Of feeling his strong hands on my body, hearing his commanding voice in my ear.

I startled as the students around me began to pack up their things. The lecture had ended without me absorbing a single word. Panic rose in my chest—how could I hope to succeed in my studies if I couldn’t even pay attention?

As I gathered my things, I felt an urgent pressure in my bladder. The nearest restroom was just down the hall, a small haven of privacy amidst the bustling university corridors.

I pushed open the heavy wooden door, wincing slightly at the lingering soreness between my legs. The bathroom was mercifully empty, the row of stalls stretching out before me. I chose the one furthest from the door, latching it securely behind me.

As I settled onto the cool wooden seat, I couldn’t help but become acutely aware of the tender flesh between my thighs. The slightly, naughtily sensual feeling of my pee rushing out of me into the bowl made me chew my lower lip.

I wiped myself as gently as I could, my teeth working a little more firmly and my forehead creasing as the soreness of my pussy flared at my touch. I dropped the paper into the bowl. My brain told my body to get up.

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