Page 62 of Betrayed
“You wanted to do this alone?” he growls, dragging his lips down my throat. “Then I need to remind you who the fuck you belong to.”
“I never forgot,” I whisper. “That’s why I did it. To protect you.”
His grip tightens. “You still don’t get it.” He spins me, slams the notebook off the table with a sweep of his arm. I’m bent over the table, the edge digging into my stomach, my ass in the air before I even know what’s happening.
Lucian yanks my leggings down, panties with them, tearing them past my knees with zero finesse. The roughness has me wet already, desperate and trembling. He unbuckles his belt with a sharp snap that echoes in the quiet cottage.
“Hands behind you,” he snaps.
I obey instantly. My pulse drums in my ears as I fold my wrists behind my back.
“No teasing. No gentle bullshit. You want to use yourself as bait? Then I’m going to mark you so the next time you reevaluate before you throw yourself into danger.”
The belt comes down hard and quick. Once, twice, then a third time. Everything happens so fast that my breath gets stuck in my lungs, caught in my throat, while my ass feels like a raging wildfire.
Then his hand comes down, spanking me, hard, leaving no bit of my curves neglected, no inch of my skin unpunished. Tears spark in the corners of my eyes, burning almost as hot as my ass.
My voice chokes off in the back of my throat. “Please—Lucian!”
He turns me to face him, then lifts me by the hips, planting me down hard on the edge of the table top. I wince as the hot stipes on my ass contact the cold wood. He fumbles open his jeans, dragging them low enough to free himself.
The head of his cock brushes my entrance, and my body clenches, aching for him. He doesn’t ease in. Doesn’t wait.
He drives into me with a brutal thrust that has me crying out.
My back arches. My wrists dig into one another behind me. “L-Lucian?—”
“Quiet.” His hand snakes around to my throat, not choking—just holding. Anchoring. “You wanted this. You want to be fucked like you belong to me. You knew your choices last night would drive me to the brink. So, take it.”
Every thrust is deep and punishing. He sets a relentless rhythm, each motion hitting that perfect place inside me that makes my vision blur. The table rocks beneath us. Firelight dances across the ceiling. His other hand grabs my hip, holding me exactly where he wants me.
I moan, head tilting back. “Lucian—God?—”
He lowers over me, breath hot on my ear. “You reach out to one of my men behind my back again?—”
“I won’t. I swear?—”
“Because you’re mine,” he growls, snapping his hips harder, grinding with each thrust. “You want something? You ask me. Me alone.”
“Yes,” I breathe. “Yours. I’m yours?—”
His fingers find my clit, rubbing tight, merciless circles.
I explode around him.
My orgasm rips through me so fast and sharp that it steals every thought. My cry is broken, gasping, strangled by the pleasure wracking my body. I convulse on the table, but he doesn’t stop.
He slows. Deepens. Draws it out, riding the aftershocks until I’m trembling.
But he’s not finished.
Lucian flips me over in one motion—face down on the table, legs spread, ass in the air.
His palm smacks my ass so hard I whimper.
“Don’t think you’re done, babygirl,” he growls behind me.
He plunges back in, one hand gripping my nape, the other returning to my clit.
