Page 14 of Cruel Heir

I take one last look at Lucia, desire still thrumming through me as I look at what I’ve claimed.

And then I ball the sheet up in my hands and stride out of the room.

6

LUCIA

Ihave no idea what to think or feel.

I watch Andre leave, still trembling on the bed, confused beyond anything I’ve ever experienced in my life.

It wasn’t supposed to feelgood.

I close my eyes, curling into a ball on the bare mattress. Now that the pleasure had receded, I feel soft and sore, the ache between my legs intensifying with every moment. I’m acutely aware of everything—the stickiness of his cum on the inside of my thighs, mingled with my arousal, the feeling of the mattress underneath me, the hollow ache inside of me where he was a moment before.

I never really knew what to expect from my wedding night. I knew that it meant a man putting his cock inside of me, and that was about the extent of it. I knew it was pleasurable for men, that it was something they would do just aboutanythingto have if they desired it enough, and that whether or not the woman enjoyed it was usually of little consequence to the men in our world. When I knew that Andre would be taking me to bed tonight and I had no choice in the matter, I expected nothing but pain.

Curling into a tighter ball, I press my hands over my face, trying not to think of the way he touched me. Of histongue—

I didn’t know men did that. I didn’t know it would feel so good. And I certainly never expected that Andre would do it tome.

A wave of shame washes over me as I feel a flicker of arousal, thinking of him doing it again. I feel myself tighten, feel a throb between my thighs followed by another wave of that aching soreness, and I turn my face into the pillow as I burst into tears.

I don’t know how long I stay like that, sobbing into my pillow, until I hear the door open and someone step into the room.

“Miss Lucia?” A voice comes from just inside the door, soft and soothing, and I realize through my haze that it’s Celeste. I look up, seeing her through a mist of tears, and another wave of humiliation crashes over me as I realize what I must look like. Tear-stained, hair tangled, naked, with my husband’s cum still leaking out between my thighs. I look like a woman who has been utterly ravaged, broken, and then left to consider what’s just happened to her.

I turn my face back into the pillow as I hear Celeste tentatively approach the bed. I can’t look at her. I don’t know how I’ll ever look at anyone again.

“Miss Lucia.” Celeste pauses, and I can feel her looking at me.

“Go away,” I mumble into the pillow, and I hear her let out a slow breath.

“I’m sorry, miss, but I can’t. Don Leone sent me up to make up the linens on the bed. And he, well—” She pauses again, as if she’s struggling to find the right words. “He told me to make sure you were tended to.”

That does make me look up, eyes narrowed in confusion. “What do you mean,tended to?” I demand, hearing a slightly hysterical pitch at the end of my words. “I think he’s done enough, don’t you?” I see Celeste flinch, and I briefly close my eyes. “I’m sorry. I know you can’t answer that.”

“I would agree, actually,” Celeste says calmly. Her voice is still mild, but I can hear the edge to it, the hint that she has more feelings about all of this than she’s letting on. She hesitates, and I have a feeling that she’s trying to think of how to comfort me without overstepping. “You should take another bath, Miss Lucia,” she says finally. “I can draw one for you. It will help. I’ll make up the bed while you soak, and then you can get a night’s rest.”

The thought of prying myself out of the bed feels almost impossible. But I think of sinking into hot water, of letting the aches and soreness be soaked away for a little while, and I nod slowly. “Alright,” I say softly. “I—thank you.”

“It’s my job to take care of you, Miss Lucia,” Celeste says firmly. “And on that note, I’m going to check in on you while you soak, if that’s alright. Just to make sure that you’re—”

She trails off, but it doesn’t take much for me to figure out what she was thinking. That after what happened tonight, left alone in a bathtub, I might seek a different way out.

“I promise I’m not thinking of that,” I tell her quietly. I push myself up to a sitting position, tucking my legs close to myself as I wrap my arms over my breasts. “And you can just call me Lucia.”

“I probably shouldn’t do that, miss—”

I press my lips together, knowing that it’s not exactly fair to ask, when she could get in trouble if she slipped up in front of Andre, or even someone else above her—like James. But I feel as if I’m grasping at any connection, the slightest bit of care or sympathy, so that I don’t feel so alone. I take a breath, feeling a little guilty for pushing it, but unable to stop myself. “If you’re going to be the one tending to me, then this is what I need from you,” I tell her firmly. “Think of it as an order, if that makes it easier?”

“Alright,” Celeste relents finally. “It feels very strange. But I’ll do my best, m—Lucia.” She gives me a faint smile. “Here. I’ll get you a robe to wrap up in, and then I’ll draw that bath for you.”

“Thank you,” I whisper, and she smiles.

Fifteen minutes later, I’m sinking into the hot bath, the water glistening with some sort of unscented bath oil that Celeste said would help soothe anything that hurt. I lean my head back against the rim of the tub, not caring if my hair gets wet this time, and I close my eyes as I try to force myself to think about this rationally.

For now, I’m married to Andre Leone. Whether or not the marriage can be upheld if it’s challenged, whether or not there’s anyrecourse if someone is able to help me, there’s nothing that I can change about that right now. He married me in front of a priest, with the license signed. I have to find some way to live with that for now, until I can figure out a means of escape.

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