Chapter 2
Home Sweet Home
“What are they?” Lucian’s sister, Toni Patras, asked as she grudgingly edged closer to the vendor’s table dressed in a dated blue cloth.
The vendor stood back, his tattered duds flapping worn hemlines like frayed flags with each teasing wind. His stained fingers remained hidden, tucked deep within his crossed arms. Apparently, he was aware that some of the company found his presence wanting. Evelyn’s gaze met his, an empathetic curve to her mouth. She hoped his ego wasn’t too wounded by Toni’s hypercritical appraisal. Of all the Patras siblings, Toni’s silver spoon was the largest, and in moments like this, Evelyn wanted to rip it out of her mouth.
The sidewalk sale was part of the Irish festivities that marked every March in Folsom. Participating in the revelry from this end was such an extremely different experience than what Evelyn was used to. All her life, she awaited the lull of the Annual Folsom Celtic Festival, because it gave way to a smorgasbord for the homeless. Half-eaten foods and bins of discarded toddies sometimes spiked with something to ease a bit of the nip in the air, awaited the empty bellies of the less fortunate. Forgotten jackets and hats littered the sidewalks alongside the trivial bullshit that rich folk wasted money on, like necklaces and bobbles that glowed for a day. Even now, Evelyn couldn’t help but spot some of those forgotten pieces of trash that would soon become another’s treasure.
This had always been her favorite time of year. After the parade came through the beribboned streets of Folsom, thoroughfares were littered with suckers and taffy and plastic jewels, all sorts of treasures a kid on the street never was handed in life.
Evelyn’s memory of her small, dirty hand gripping the waxy wrapper of a long-ago found chocolate taffy transcended to her now manicured hand holding a collection of blue gems. My, how times have changed. Well, not times, but situations. Hers certainly had.
Unable to tear her gaze from the bobble she now held, she tried to answer Toni without losing patience. “I don’t know.”
The sunlight caught on the various swirls of green and blue buried in the smooth stones, waves trapped in time.
“That’s sea glass,” the vendor chimed in. Toni eased back as the vendor smiled toothlessly at them, his unclean odor wafting in their direction over the cool breeze. Evelyn smiled, finding great amusement in Toni’s discomfort. This man was really no different than Evelyn, but Toni wouldn’t know that. While the Patras family was not overtly snobby, they would never become used to those who lived a much rougher life. Toni was the most sheltered of them all.
“It’s beautiful,” Evelyn complimented. Her gaze was transfixed on the various hues. She’d never seen the ocean, but she’d seen pictures. It was as if the stones had trapped those wild, radiant mercurial blues, entombed them together in a piece of glass. She found each little stone to be its own breathtaking work of art. More impressive that it was made by nature. Man could only attempt to imitate such beauty, but this was authentic, something that had been touched by the ocean.
“That there is real silver,” the vendor said informatively, drawing Evelyn’s gaze from the enchanting stones to the other merchandise on display.
Toni gave the dealer an insincere but polite smile and returned the spoon she was holding to the cloth-covered table. She shifted her bag and sighed. “Come on, Evelyn. There’s a sale at the Coach boutique I want to hit.”
Evelyn looked back to the stones filling her hand, now warm from her own body heat. “Um, okay. Just let me get Dugan.” She pivoted and found their driver already approaching at the mention of his name. “Dugan, I’d like to buy these stones.”
Toni frowned at her, her face scrunching like that of a shar-pei. “What are you doing, Ev? All this stuff’s junk.”
Irrationally, a twinge of offense on the stones’ behalf filled Evelyn. Her embarrassment about Lucian’s sister on the vendor’s behalf was completely rational. Her fingers closed over the stones protectively as if to save their inanimate feelings.
“They’re pretty,” she said, slightly self-conscious of how uncultured she could be. There was so much about her she feared Lucian and his family would one day see as too weird to bother with.
Evelyn never had pretty things before Lucian. Clothes cost a fortune where he shopped, and she simply couldn’t fathom the difference between a two-thousand-dollar pair of shoes and a ten-dollar pair. She humored him when it came to her wardrobe, knowing it pleased him to provide for her and see her dressed in fancy things, but this was different. A stone didn’t have to be a diamond or a ruby to be pretty.
It was indulgent and silly, but Evelyn wanted it. “How much for these five?”
The vendor extended his neck and examined her finds. Motioning with a dirty hand to the grouping of other blue glass along the table, he said, “I’ll give you all ten for five dollars.”
Evelyn smiled as Dugan withdrew his wallet. “And what about these?” she asked, gesturing toward the eclectic grouping of silverware spread out along the edge of the table. There were other items too, jars of old buttons, broken earrings that looked dated, tattered old black-and-white photos, and some vintage typewriter keys.
Before the vendor could answer, Toni stepped in. “What are you going to do with a bunch of mismatched forks and spoons, Evelyn?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. They’re neat.”
“They’re tarnished,” Toni mumbled, her mouth drawn to the side in disapproval, dimple forming an unhappy divot in her cheek.
“They’ll clean right up with the right type of cleaner, ma’am,” the vendor offered pleasantly enough. She liked that he didn’t back down under Toni’s disapproval.
Dugan handed her a hundred-dollar bill, and Lucian’s sister scoffed. “This stuff is all crap.”
Evelyn frowned at her. The vendor obviously heard her. Now Toni was just being rude. She took the bill from Dugan and lifted her chin. “How much for all of it?”
With bulging eyes, the dealer said, “Uh . . .” He did a quick inventory of his goods. “Forty?”
“I’ll take it all,” Evelyn announced proudly, and Toni threw up her hands in exasperation, turning away from the table. The vendor grinned, wide and toothless, an expression of sheer joy on his haggard face.
“Do you have a bag?”
“I sure do, ma’am.” He quickly reached under the cloth of the table and pulled out a stack of newspaper and a crinkled, plastic grocery bag. Evelyn smiled and made small talk with the man as he carefully wrapped her treasures. Toni stood a few feet away tapping the toe of her expensive boot.
When he handed Evelyn the bag, it was heavier than she expected. Dugan relieved her of it and silently stepped back from the table. She held out the hundred-dollar bill for the merchant.
His expression fell. “Uh, I’m ’fraid I can’t break that, ma’am.”
“That’s okay,” Evelyn said in good spirits. “You keep it. Go get yourself some lunch and maybe buy something nice for yourself now that your afternoon’s free. I saw another vendor down that way selling gloves for a dollar, the nice warm kind.”
He looked at her hesitantly, his eyes weighing her sincerity. His gaze returned to the crisp bill being offered to him. She extended her arm a little more. When he still didn’t take it, she reached for his gnarled hand, opened his fingers, and closed them over the money.
“Thank you for all the beautiful treasures,” she said, and turned to find Toni.
Lucian’s sister awaited her with comic disapproval accentuating her posture. Evelyn had no regrets about her purchase. The change from the hundred dollars was worth the joy she put on that man’s face. The bag of treasures was just a bonus.
Her gaze caught on a small yellow taffy at the edge of the curb. Evelyn grinned and bent to pick up the overlooked treat left in the wake of the parade that morning, its waxy wrapper spreading a warm, nostalgic heat through her chest. When she stood and faced Toni, it was clear the other woman thought she was nuts. Evelyn didn’t care. The yellow ones were the best.
They walked from one end of Folsom’s classier district to the other. Evelyn’s toes were screaming to get out of her narrow-toed kitten heels by four o’clock. Thank God she had the good sense not to wear her dagger heels out today. If she had, she’d probably be leaving a trail of blood in her wake, which was still a possibility, even in kitten heels. Unless shoes had rubber soles she pretty much hated them.
By the time they neared the limo, Dugan was completely weighed down with boutique bags and designer boxes. Luckily, even the lacy wrappings of such a girlie outing couldn’t detract from his manliness. Dugan was a tree of a man and loyal to the bone to Lucian.
At six foot five, roughly three hundred pounds and not an ounce of fat, Dugan was all man. His gruff, thin lips tucked within the handlebars of his mustache gave him an unapproachable presence that allowed him the solitude he seemed to favor. His eyes, however, sometimes hinted at a much softer man beneath. She’d been working on getting his freak flag up for a while, but so far no such luck.
“Scout?”
Evelyn stilled and turned at the sound of her name. Scanning the pedestrians surrounding them, her eyes landed on the familiar, bouncing curls of Lucian’s friend Jamie. “Jamie, hi! What are you doing here?”
“I had a business lunch that was canceled, so I figured I’d walk around.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek, his Irish eyes smiling. “No Lucian today?”
She sighed. “No, he had some things he needed to take care of. Luckily I was able to find a stand-in.”
Jamie’s gaze lifted and traveled past her shoulder. The moment he spotted Lucian’s younger sister, a blank mask forcibly settled into place. Evelyn always got a kick out of observing the two of them dance around the sexual tension they shared. According to Lucian’s older sister, Isadora, Toni and Jamie had been playing this game of cat and mouse for years. However, poor Jamie was the mouse.
Do it already!
“Antoinette,” he greeted coolly.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Shamus the anus.”
He pressed his lips together. “Mature, Toni. I can see you’ve grown up quite a bit.”
Toni shrugged indifferently, but the proof of her embarrassment following her juvenile outburst was clear as her color rose and her lip quivered slightly. So much of that toughness was an act to hide her insecurities.
Looking back at Evelyn, Jamie asked, “Did you find some good sales today?”
Toni rolled her eyes and blew out a puff of air, clearly over her own issues. “I did, but Evelyn got ripped off. She bought some dirty man’s trash.”
It was Evelyn’s turn to blush. Toni was twenty-three, just like Evelyn, but they had led two very different lives until recently. There was an immature quickness to Lucian’s little sister that Evelyn wasn’t sure how to take sometimes. She laughed nervously. “It wasn’t trash. It was a collection of stones and eclectic silver spoons.”
Jamie’s jaw ticked. He was one of the few people who knew she had grown up on the streets. She never had the guts to ask him not to share that information. Evelyn looked at him pleadingly, hoping she wouldn’t regret never having that conversation with him.
“Well, for those not born with a collection of silver spoons in their mouths, they have to buy them somewhere,” he said succinctly, hitting Toni with a pointed look.
Toni let out a very unladylike sound. “You’re an asshole, Jamie.” She turned and marched away. “I’ll be at the car.”
Jamie rolled his eyes. “Don’t mind her. She’s too young to realize not everyone grows up with every request met at the drop of a hat.”
Evelyn didn’t see the point in mentioning she and Toni were the same age. She smiled tightly, acknowledging without words that he tried to casually come to her defense without giving too much away.
His eyes softened. “What did you get?”
Feeling silly now, she blew off his question as she swatted at a strand of dark hair blowing across her face and irritably tucked it behind her ear. “Nothing. Maybe it is junk.”
Jamie’s smile eased with understanding that felt a little too much like sympathy. Shame on her for letting all of Toni’s comments get to her.
“If you liked it I’m sure it isn’t junk.” His long fingers lifted and tucked the unruly strand of dark hair tightly behind her ear. His fingers pinched the edge of her chin affectionately. “Send Lucian my best. Dugan.” He tipped his chin at their driver before turning away, his blond corkscrew curls slowly fading into the melee of pedestrians shuffling over the pavement.
When she reached the limo, Dugan had already loaded their purchases into the trunk. Reluctantly, Evelyn climbed into the cab of the limo. Toni sat, arms akimbo, sulking on the far seat. Evelyn was tired. She missed Lucian and didn’t have the energy for his sister anymore today.
Without wasting time, Toni snapped, “He’s such a dickwad!”
Evelyn sighed.
“You know, I am not spoiled! I can’t help it if I have better taste than most people. I mean people appreciate my taste. I bet you didn’t know I was offered a job as a style consultant.”
Evelyn did know, because it was something Toni brought up often. Before she could comment, the girl continued. “You know, Shamus used to be fun, but now he’s just a miserable old fart.”
Shamus, or Jamie as he usually went by, was not old. But there was no stopping Toni once she started.
“He needs to get laid. That’s the problem. He dates all those plastic bimbettes and doesn’t have a clue about what good sex is.”
Evelyn thought about Toni’s string bean boyfriend, Peter. No matter how she tried, she couldn’t imagine him being able to masturbate satisfactorily let alone fuck above par. Toni continued to grumble and rant until they reached her apartment. The doorman stacked her purchases on a brass pull cart, and Toni kissed Evelyn’s cheek affectionately.
“Let’s do this again sometime, okay, Ev?”
Evelyn forced a tight smile. “Sure.”
Although so much of her current situation was new to her, Evelyn was coming to learn she could do without all the indulgent excursions wealthy people filled their time with. She was grateful for everything she had. According to her track record, she was very lucky at the moment.
She was secretly in love with the most incredible man she had ever met in her life. Her mother was finally getting the help she needed thanks to said amazing man. Evelyn was growing more literate with each passing day. And for the first time ever, she had a roof over her head she could depend on. It was wrong to complain.
Still, sometimes Evelyn wished she could hide away in Lucian’s condo forever, safely sheltered from the rest of the world. She’d spent her entire life outside of walls. Now she wanted to be within them and stay there. But she knew that wasn’t healthy.
Being born on the streets, literally, addicted to the heroin that ran through her mother’s veins like water, she’d slept on benches, under bridges, in barrels, on playgrounds, and many more unsavory places that would scare the shit out of a normal girl. It was enough to last a lifetime. She’d be happy with never going out again now that she knew what inside felt like. She was a homebody to the extreme. Maybe she should talk to someone about that, her obsession with home sweet home.
Her concern that she might be developing some sort of unhealthy dependence on her home was distracted the moment the limo pulled up to Patras. Ah . . . home.
She reached for the latch on the door just as Dugan pulled it open. He held out a hand and helped her to the sidewalk.
As always, the Patras Hotel was bustling with life. The place had a pulse of its own. There truly was no need to ever leave.
The hotel was its own little metropolis, complete with clothing stores, restaurants, bars, salons, art galleries, and over one thousand guest rooms.
She stepped onto the gold-tasseled red runner that no longer intimidated her, and Dugan followed her to the glass doors held open by Philippe, who was dressed in Patras livery.
“Good evening, Mademoiselle Keats. Monsieur Patras left instructions for your packages to be left at the front desk and delivered to your suite later this evening. He also asked that you meet him at Vogue for supper at eight.” Vogue was the hotel’s main restaurant.
“Thank you, Philippe,” she said as she passed. Once they were a distance from the doorman, she turned to Dugan. “I only have the one bag. I can carry it. No need to bother the front desk.”
Dugan, who looked tired after an afternoon of following Toni Patras from store to store, cleared his throat. “Better do as Mr. Patras directed, Ms. Keats.”
She rolled her eyes. “No wonder you’re his favorite.”
The tiniest grunt of what could possibly be laughter sounded in his throat. “I believe the title of favorite has been given to someone else.”
She playfully batted his shoulder and sighed. “Oh, Dugan, you sweet talker, you. Fine. I’ll wait for it to be delivered.”
“Very good, Ms. Keats.”
She tipped her head at his unshakable formality. “One of these days I’m going to get you to laugh, like, really laugh. Pee-your-pants laugh.”
“I doubt that, Ms. Keats.”
She dug in her little clutch for her room key. “We’ll see. Take it easy, Big D.” Waving at him with her keycard, she turned toward the bank of elevators.
The sophisticated whispers of the lobby silenced as the elevator doors closed. She sighed and leaned against the bronze mirrored wall of the car as it rushed up thirty floors with a hushed hum. She loved the clean sent of the elevators, the way guests’ perfume sometimes lingered in the air over the scent of the smartly polished tiled floor.
At the quiet ping announcing her arrival, the doors parted. She exited the elevator and took the hall to the private bank of elevators that lead to the master suites. Sliding her room key through the slot, she entered the antiquated car that was more like a gilded cage than a means of transportation. Once she was on her way, she slipped off her kitten heels and moaned as the blood flowed back into her tired toes.
As she scooped up her shoes, fantasies of sliding out of her jeans and into her robe filled her mind. How long until Lucian would be home? If dinner was at eight she still had a few hours. Maybe she would nap. She hated when he wasn’t around. He made everything more fun.
The elevator slowed, eased to a stop and quietly opened. Stepping into the private entrance of their suite, she swiped her keycard again and entered the silent condo. The lights were off and the sun was fading, painting the gray shadows in a muted golden tone. By the door her shoes dropped with a muffled clunk to the plush carpet, and she removed her scarf.
Dropping her clutch to the table in the hall, she began unbuttoning her coat and heading toward their bedroom. As she focused on the buttons, a shadow passed by the blurred edge of her peripheral vision. Turning quickly, she screamed as hands suddenly grabbed her shoulders, forced her pivoting feet to reverse, and pressed her front firmly into the cool papered wall.
“Not a word,” a deep masculine voice whispered, soft lips pressing over her hair and into the shell of her ear. Panic gave way to relief as her ears recognized his voice at the same moment her nose registered his familiar scent.
Lucian.
“Your lover won’t be home for hours and I plan on having you several times by then.”
Her breath hitched as a strong hand snaked under the material of her coat and gripped the apex of her thighs. Her body caught fire. Firm hips pressed into her backside, grinding and forcing her flat against the wall as his palm fit into the crease of her jeans. The heat of his palm bled through the denim of her pants. She regretted that he hadn’t given her a chance to remove more of her clothing.
His grip on her thigh tightened, thumb pressing hard into a sensitive crease, massaging as she moaned, already growing aroused and needy.
“Shh . . . Lucian’s not here.”
Pressing up on the balls of her feet, she rocked into his grip and he chuckled. “Is that how it is? So ready to give yourself over to an intruder? Perhaps your lover hasn’t been keeping you satisfied.”
Her scarf was yanked out of her hands, the velvet a slippery tease between her fingers. Every bit of her flesh was suddenly hypersensitive and on alert. She gasped as her coat was jerked off of her shoulders, drawn back at the curve of her elbows, forcing her spine to arch, thrusting her breasts high. And that quickly he had her restrained.
The dim room suddenly went black as velvet covered her eyes, soft and cool over the arch of her cheeks. Her hair tugged as he knotted the scarf at the back of her head. Her heart ratcheted up as she could only anticipate what would come next. Would he be relentless, push her to the brink and tease her there until she begged him to finish her? Or would he be cruel and selfish, making the fantasy all the more real?
“Let’s see how many times I can make you come before your lover returns,” he growled, turning her quickly. The fast turn disoriented her. The wall pressed into her back and his warm lips crashed down over hers. Taking advantage of her startled gasp, his tongue breached her lips forcefully, taking from her greedily. Evelyn moaned and reached for his broad shoulders, but her coat was still in the way.
His lips tore from hers as a chill caressed her front, his touch suddenly absent. “Don’t move.” His deep voice was gravelly in a way he sounded only when highly aroused. It crawled over her senses like a physical touch and she shivered.
Breathing deeply, she pressed her back into the wall, fingers nervously opening and closing into fists. Wherever he was going she hoped he would be quick. Her eyes were adjusting to the darkness as her other senses sharpened. She could keenly hear his muffled footsteps over the carpet. They silenced as he paused and then slapped along the dark marble floor of their bedroom. He was barefoot.
She had barely seen him before he blindfolded her, catching only a flash before he was on her, depriving her of sight. She imagined him in the dark dress slacks he’d chosen that morning, shirt now wrinkled and rolled at the cuffs, collar undone and without a tie. Dressed down, buttoned up, naked, or bundled, Lucian always looked amazing.
The rich scent of coffee lingered from breakfast. The condo was cooler than usual. Did he lower the thermostat to heighten her anxiety, make the fantasy more genuine as though she were really walking into an abandoned suite with a stranger crouching in wait in the shadows? Once she considered the cold a chill took hold of her. Her shoulders trembled as her nipples tightened beneath her clothing.
The muffled sound of his footsteps drew nearer and she licked her lips, tasting his unique flavor lingering there. Anticipation shivered up her spine as her heart beat wildly in her chest. She wanted to be ravished. How would he take her? There was no doubt he would have her trussed up and at his mercy within minutes. This was Lucian Patras. When he saw something he wanted, he took it. Asking was child’s play to him, something that took some getting used to for her, but over time she had learned to simply surrender where intimacy was concerned and she had never been disappointed. Even when Lucian took, he gave.
Would he be kind or relentless? Generous or demanding? He was a trespasser. Excitement allowed her to easily fall into the fantasy play. She focused on the sound of his breathing, the anticipation of him approaching. Her breath quickened as the heat of his body mingled with hers.
“What are you going to do?” she whimpered. It wasn’t an act. He had her so excited that her voice quivered on its own.
A large hand gripped her jaw, pressing firmly into the soft flesh of her cheek, and tilting her head back to an incredibly vulnerable angle. “I said no talking. I have ways to silence you if you can’t follow directions. Do I need to find something to occupy that sweet mouth of yours?”
Before she could answer, his tongue licked over the plump curve of her lips. She couldn’t stifle the moan that followed. She was incredibly aroused.
There was an unspoken security in playing with Lucian that gave her the courage to surrender, allowing her to let go, give over to him as if he were truly taking from her with no concern for her comforts or needs.
It was fun to pretend with him, because she trusted him to stay in control therefore giving her the gift of losing herself in the game. During her childhood she rarely played, so playing now, with him, was an endorphin rush she’d never known before. She loved it.
She wanted him to take. She wanted him aggressive. Her thighs pressed together tightly and she trembled with the sudden desire for him to rip her clothing away. She felt no shame. If things got out of hand, well, that’s why she had a safe word. All she had to do was call checkmate and Lucian would stop everything.
Like a child with a stick, she poked the impressive beast, anxious to see what he would do. “My lover will be here soon, any minute! And you won’t touch me. He’s very protective of me and when he sees what you planned to do, he’ll make you regret ever contemplating putting your hands on me.”
Harsh laughter filled the quiet space between them. The puff of his warm breath against her cheek told her how close he was, yet he was no longer touching her. She wanted to lean forward and press into him, but held herself still, rigid and proud.
His laugh abruptly stopped and the sudden silence had her catching her breath. All calm slowly tingled away, replaced with the slight tickling of unease at the nape of her neck. Perhaps it was her blindness, but more than likely it was the absence of his touch.
Something shifted and reality wavered. How did he do that, shift the energy of an entire room? Her breath quickened as anxiety pressed into her thoughts. Rationalization of her situation became a blurry mirage in her mind slipping through her grip.
“Lucian?”
“He’s not here. Just me. Me and you.”
She stiffened as his cool finger trailed over the crest of her cheek, past her ear, and down her neck. He had somehow transformed his touch, disguised it. Adrenaline coursed through her veins. It was him, yet it wasn’t. How had he suddenly made her apprehension so real? She knew if she wanted to stop they would. All she had to do was say her safe word, but she didn’t even want to think it in that electrified moment where she stood poised on the cusp of dark need.
Like the slight static of a balloon lifting the soft hairs on an arm, she felt him ease closer. Her lungs held as his breath echoed in the shell of her ear. In. Out. In. Out. She was glad one of them was breathing.
Like a top tightened on a string, he suddenly said the one word that threw everything into motion. His lips pressed over the soft curve of her ear and he whispered, “Run!”
Evelyn didn’t think. She only reacted, knowing she might seriously hurt herself being unable to see, she shrugged her coat back over her shoulders, held her hands out in front of her and bolted. It didn’t matter anyway. He caught her before she barely had a chance to move.
She struggled against him and he subdued her every attempt to break free of his hold. The great thing about Lucian being so unbreakable was he never had a problem with playing rough. She made the trek to the bedroom as difficult as possible for him, catching her flailing feet on furniture and biting him through his dress shirt. She’d earned a few swats on her ass along the way, but it was worth it. She loved the adrenaline rush of rough housing with her lover.
Her body landed on the cool, plush bedding and bounced with the impact. Hurried fingers attacked the snap of her jeans, and as they were yanked below her knees she twisted to her stomach and hastily crawled away. Like a manacle, fingers wrapped around her ankle and yanked her back to him.
Her heart raced as he laughed at her pathetic attempt. “That’s it. Fight me. There’s no escaping what I plan to do to you.”
They tussled, but he kept a constant hold on her limbs. She loved that she could play rough with him. Adrenaline pounded through her veins as she wriggled under the strong body pinning her. She panted and pushed against him. Every time he reinforced his hold on her, her arousal doubled.
Once her legs were bare, her coat was roughly stripped away. Her hair had come undone from its clip and strands clung to her lips as she panted. His weight settled over her hips as he pressed her wrists into the pillows above her head. Warm breath coasted against the skewed collar of her blouse. The warmth of his tongue suddenly scorched the tender flesh of her throat as he licked a hot trail to her rapidly throbbing pulse.
“Are you planning on fighting me the entire way?” he whispered, pressing his lips to the corner of her mouth. She loved when he spoke to her like that, dragging his mouth over her flesh, as though drawing away for a few words was simply too much to bear.
Heat pulled low in her belly, tightening her loins as a wave of euphoric need settled over her, clouding her judgment, banishing all common sense. She pressed into his hold, trying to break free and growing intensely aroused at the fact that, no matter how she tried, he had her outmaneuvered.
“I won’t let you have me,” she hissed, pursing her lips to disguise her smile.
His weight lifted off her abdomen for a split second as he transferred her wrists into one hand. As he settled back over her, cool satin banded her hands, leaving her palms kissing and her fingers with their long, manicured nails useless. The air of the bedroom cut away, replaced with the heady sent of him leaning over her. The soft, sensual fabric became a new experience in her darkened state.
The awkward bondage left her to discover how sweaty her palms had grown. Once she was sufficiently restrained she felt him ease back. She imagined his arrogant expression as he evaluated his work. She tugged, but the satin was clearly tied to something else, leaving her stretched helplessly beneath him.
The sudden shredding sound of fabric rent the air. Buttons popped and pinged around the room. Her nipples tightened beneath the lace cups of her bra. Her blouse, now a useless rag, was yanked open. Exposed and vulnerable, she squirmed. He had her pinned, plucked, and poised for his pleasure.
His touch, when it came, was reserved. Although he was taking what he wanted, he was caressing her like a stranger who had never seen her exposed before. It seemed almost reverent. The raw lust that traveled from his fingertip to her chilled flesh as it slid over the slight swell of her heaving breasts was foreign.
She knew he was doing this to mess with her head. He wanted her to fully experience the fantasy, view him as a stranger and feel the rush of fear colliding with the unknown. What a mind fuck, to take pleasure from someone she should be fighting off. It was a wicked game, this fantasy.
He explored her exposed flesh like a trespasser. Perhaps she should feel a pang of disgrace for finding it so titillating. Maybe another person would be ashamed, but this man above her had tutored her in all things sexual and as far as softer couplings went, she preferred him always taking her to that darker edge. Maybe she was a deviant too.
“Your lover is very lucky.” His voice was hoarse, quiet. His touch grew bolder.
Her breasts plumped as he used both hands to create slack in the lace connecting the cups of her bra. A quick snap and tear and the support was pushed aside, leaving her breasts naked. The heat of his palms engulfed her flesh, squeezing, drawing a moan from deep within her.
He stilled. “Surely you are not aroused by a stranger touching you?” He played the game so well, always drawing a touch of psychology into sex, never allowing it to simply be a physical act. Her emotions only ran high where this man was concerned. In a way, he had programmed her to react so, conditioned her.
Regardless of her grasp on reality, his words made her cheeks burn. He was no stranger, but he also wasn’t her Lucian in that moment. Fear that he might confuse the fantasy with reality skated through her mind. Was he fishing for reassurance?
“Only you . . .” she whispered.
He didn’t comment, but the press of his forehead to her abdomen, the soft tickle of his dark hair on the underside of her breasts, proved he took stock in her words. He would never openly admit to having insecurities. No, they were for mere mortals and Lucian likened himself to the gods. She hid her smirk, loving that he only showed his more human side to her.
He scooted back and as his weight lifted off her hips her panties were peeled away. Her thighs were wrenched wide. She gasped and he tsked. An impersonal finger swept down her slit. “You’re soaking wet,” he remarked in a chastising tone. More heat rushed to her face.
The bed dipped and she heard him moving around, unsure what he was planning. She startled as his finger smeared over her lips. “Lick my fingers clean.”
Lips parted, she swept her tongue over his two digits, then closed and sucked them into her mouth, recognizing her own flavor. He grunted and withdrew his fingers with a pop.
She waited, wondering what he would do next. The scent of his rich cologne intensified as he ran a finger over the skin beneath her nose. She knew it was his finger, but his fragrance was suddenly so strong it reminded her of kissing his throat. Her brow knit beneath the blindfold. When he pulled away all she could smell was his cologne. He had put it there, why?
“I’ve invited some friends.”
Evelyn tensed, all other thoughts floating away like dust. She and Lucian had discussed a myriad of fantasies. She had a safe word in case she ever felt unsure and he reminded her often that she could use it. Sharing was something she was not okay with and he knew it. He too admitted not being able to tolerate another man touching her.
Her heart pounded like a wild bird caged in her chest. Her tongue slicked suddenly dry lips. Was this part of the game or had he had a change of heart?
“Undress, boys. I believe we can each have a shot at making her come before her lover returns.”
She sucked in a sharp breath. In the span of a second her confidence in his commitment to be the only person entitled to her body wavered, shoved back by her absolute certainty he would not push her too far. Still, she sought reassurance.
“Luc—”
His hand pressed over her mouth. “Quiet.”
Then his touch was gone. She grew intensely self-conscious of her naked, exposed state. He wouldn’t. He would never share her. Not now, after they’d come so far.
The sound of fabric shifting grated over her nerves like tiny blades. True anxiety announced itself and her breathing grew loud enough to overshadow the sound of the bodies moving. It was a game. He was toying with her and her rational self knew that, trusted him, but her imagination, that twisted part of the mind that fabricated nightmares, was really fucking with her certainty.
She fought for control, ordering herself to calm down. Sharp awareness of how much control she’d surrendered dominated her panic. She was helpless.
There was a shuffling of movement. The jangle of coins deep within silk-lined pockets, the clank of a metal belt buckle hitting the marble floor. She couldn’t help but flinch when someone’s hand wrapped around the arch of her foot and pulled it toward the edge of the bed. Lucian. Lucian. Lucian. It’s only Lucian.
“Isn’t she beautiful, boys? Look at that pretty pink pussy. It’s just begging to be filled by a big, hard cock.”
Evelyn trembled as her ankle was restrained with silk. Again, a hand wrapped around her other foot. The process was repeated and all physical contact ceased. She shivered, as she lay exposed, restrained, and completely vulnerable. Minutes ticked by like hours. The silence was deafening. She wanted to scream, but also refused to give over, thinking she could somehow outwit the hysteria that beckoned. He was testing her trust, she realized.
She did trust Lucian. He was purposely shaking her faith, that was all—fishing for more reassurance. Actions spoke louder than words. Knowing that he would watch her reactions, weigh her surrender, only calmed her more. He wouldn’t let anyone else touch her. This was a test, to see if she trusted him to toe the line without crossing it.
As she lay there on the plush, cool covers she lost track of time. The weight of being watched pressed into her, tightening her skin, making her hyperaware she was not alone, yet at the same time she had never felt so unaccompanied. What was he waiting for? Trepidation choked her. No one else was there; she knew it because she knew him, sometimes better than she knew herself, but still, the anticipation of proof was torture. She didn’t want to move past the game, but she needed to confirm she was right and it was only the two of them in the penthouse.
Blindly, she clung to the familiar scent of Lucian just under her nose. She became aware of only that one anchor. So engrossed was she in breathing in that recognizable scent that she missed the moment he climbed onto the bed. The tickle of mysterious soft hair along her spread thighs made her jump. Silk cut into her ankles and wrists as she tugged at her bindings, and then his mouth was on her.
She didn’t have time to adjust to the onslaught of sensations attacking her. This was it. This was the mind fuck of having an unsolicited touch force pleasure on her. The game suddenly became a reality.
Fingers plunged into her wet core as lips tightened over the bud of her sex. Pleasure, no matter how much she protested it, built and washed over her with the sudden downpour of sweet release. Evelyn cried out, and before the fluttering waves subsided, the mouth was gone.
Insecurity and confusion warred with her lust-addled brain. Doubt and certainty reflected each other like a funhouse mirror. Where was Lucian? She was so disoriented, she couldn’t place him in the room.
Her questions ceased as the mattress dipped again and a strong body climbed on top of her. Her chest constricted at the unknown. This was still Lucian’s fantasy. He would not let someone else touch her, but the illusion he’d created was intensely real.
Trust him, Evelyn! Trust him.
Forcing a steady breath, she swallowed and waited. He had control. He had the power to call halt. He loved her. He would never push her too far.
It amazed her how much her trust for this man could calm her. She never had such unwavering faith in someone else, never allowed herself to be so vulnerable. Trusting another to take care of her and know exactly what she could and could not handle was a new and frightening experience for her.
Heavy weight settled high on her torso, knees bracketing her rib cage. Evelyn waited. Hands encased her breasts, and thumbs flicked over her nipples. Her thighs fought to draw together, but the silk holding her ankles was without give.
Heat seared to the tips of her breasts as fingers clamped down on her nipples. Her lips pressed tightly, and her breath was audible in the silent room as it rushed in and out of her nose. Why was it so quiet?
His weight eased and a finger ran along her jaw. Every touch raced over her senses, prickling every nerve receptor she had. Fingers curled over her chin as a thumb gently traced her mouth, pressing down on her lower lip. Her mouth opened and the hand was gone as he leaned forward and pressed his cock between her lips.
Her tongue compressed under the hot weight, and she fought the urge to pull away. She had only ever done this with Lucian, and her mind eased as she recognized the feel of him.
Her lips stretched as the cock pressed deep. She was completely pinned and afraid of choking, but he quickly withdrew. The mattress dipped beside her head where he caught his weight. As he pressed forward again, she heard the sound of heavy breathing. He was not unaffected.
Her tongue curved around the cock foisting into her mouth, and she sucked. A sharp grunt sounded above her.
The cock withdrew with a pop, and his weight was suddenly gone. Her lips moved as she silently repeated his name like a prayer.
Lucian, Lucian, Lucian, Lucian . . .
The slight flow of blood tingled to her toes, as her feet were untied. Her legs were drawn together and her body was pivoted and dragged over the bedding until a good portion of her limbs hung off the edge of the mattress. As her hips were hoisted and turned, forcing her to switch her weight from her back to her belly, she gasped. Barely given a chance to adjust, she was yanked lower on the bed until her toes grazed the cold marble floor.
She lunged forward as two hands spread her cheeks. If there was ever a place a woman could be violated—a tongue licked over her back entrance. Unexpected pleasure knifed up her spine. A moan laced with the sound of confusion escaped her. The stubble of a male jaw scraped over her flesh followed by the quick nip of teeth. Then the assault began.
“Lucian!”
Faster and faster, his tongue slid over her flesh. Her cries called into the mattress until she was practically begging for him to finish her. His hand gripped her cheek while his other hand teased at her back entrance. When a wide finger speared the tight pucker there, she shouted with acute pleasure.
Her body jerked as the digit fucked her. Her ankles were kicked out by bare feet, and hot thighs pressed against the backs of hers. The broad head of a cock slipped through the arousal covering her folds, and she experienced the unmistakable sensation of flesh on flesh. That’s when her certainty was validated.
Lucian. It’s Lucian.
She was, without a doubt, one hundred percent certain. Relief and pride washed over her that in those sparse moments of doubt she held strong to her conviction that it was him. Lucian could barely tolerate another man looking at her, let alone touching her. The lack of protection separating their bodies was all the proof she needed to ease her fickle mind. Her body stretched at the familiar sensation of Lucian’s cock pressing into her.
He thrust into her, burying himself to the hilt and lifting her feet clear off the floor. Evelyn sobbed with renewed desire. His thumb pressed deep into her back passage as his cock withdrew and thrust again.
“Lucian . . .” She repeated his name like a mantra, again and again, but out loud. With each vocalization of his name, he fucked her harder. His movements echoed his own manly cries. Grunts and moans filled the air over the slapping sound of sex. Her skin heated and her blood slowly boiled under the surface.
“Say it . . .” he demanded. “Say my name . . .”
“Lucian,” she shouted, her voice now hoarse as well.
“That’s it. Say it. Know that I’m the only one who will ever touch you like this. Me, Evelyn.” He forced his cock deep, withdrew his thumb and blanketed her body with his weight. “Me.”
It was raw and it was coarse, but it was completely honest. His need for her flowed from his body to hers as his heart beat into her back. However she had imagined love, it was not this. This was not something soft and delicate, tied up in flowers and bows. This was wild and honest, durable and true. He loved her, and when his feelings poured out of him like this, it was so potent there was no denying they were real.
His breath beat at her shoulder. Her heart pounded into the bedding. He could be rough with her. She wouldn’t break, and over time he had learned that. She smiled into the rumpled bedding as her body found contentment in this beautiful moment.
“You, Lucian. Only you.”
She gasped as he suddenly withdrew completely. Her body was lifted and flipped. Again, she was lying on her back. His hips pressed between hers and his cock slid home. Belly to belly, they each sobbed at the unbelievable pleasure of being connected in such an elemental manner. Anyone could fuck, but she found it hard to believe many people knew what this felt like.
The blindfold was stripped from her eyes and she blinked into the shadowy darkness of the room.
“Look at me.”
Lashes fluttering, she focused on the dark silhouette above her. As Lucian’s messy black hair came into focus and his dark eyes bored into her, she had the wonderful sense of coming home. There was no need to search for others. They were alone. “I knew it was you,” she whispered with a smile.
“Always me, Evelyn. No one else.” His lips crashed down over hers and he delivered the most passionate kiss of her life. “I missed you today.”
“I missed you too.” Her knees drew up and cradled his hips. Fingers tugged at the silk tied to her wrists, and the fabric gave way. She fisted her fingers in the air, forcing the blood back into them, then reached for him.
Warm, damp muscle filled her grip as she dragged her nails over his broad shoulders. Grasping his arms, she stared at him. The words were there, but she couldn’t say them. Fear that they might slip out had her leaning up to kiss him.
The urgency eased, but their need only grew. Slow intensity guided them. Her hands explored his body, gripped his neck, tugged at his hair. She latched her leg over his hip, ground her heel into his thigh, and they melded together as if they could somehow pass through each other.
Broad hands spanned her back, lifted her closer as he thrust deep. His strokes, now measured, were delivered in a way that said never forget me.
She never would.
“I love you, Evelyn.”
Still unable to say the words, she pressed her face into his strong chest, gripped him with all the need and affection she had for him, the ever-present, all-consuming drive to be by him, with him, and showed her love the best she knew how.