He reached her and tipped her head up by pinching her chin between his thumb and finger. She had no choice but to look into his stern features, and drown in his earthy scent that reminded her of walking past certain boutiques in Soho. The ones she could never afford to enter. But all the money in the world couldn’t capture that one delicious note of power she smelled whenever he neared her. One whiff and she was enthralled. One taste and she was sent to her knees.
“There will be no taking you home until I am ready to take you home. I will treat you well and see to your every need. And know this.” He whispered a kiss over her lips, a kiss she felt right down to the tips of her toes. “If you try, even once, to leave me and I have to come after you, I will soon have you regretting your foolish mistake.”
Fear smothered the arousal pumping through her. “You have to stop talking like—”
He cut off her words by placing a finger over her lips. “Shh.”
The condescending action had her slapping his hand away and trying to shove him back. “You know what? No. Forget it. If you’re going to act like this, I don’t want to do this with you.”
Yes, I do.
She made a funny sound, unsure if she was growing angrier with herself or him. “I don’t know whether to be amused, scared, pissed off, or turned on. You’re making my head spin.”
He gave a half nod, as if in understanding. “I appreciate your honesty.”
“Really? Then you’ll love this; I think your grief is fucking with your sense of what’s right and wrong. I don’t think keeping me here against my will is what you need to be doing right now.”
“You are an expert on what I need, Yasmeen?”
His hollow tone had goosebumps flowing down her arms. “No, but, you’re obviously very upset about Markus, and I understand that, but it’s no excuse for talking a woman’s freedom from her. It’s no excuse for—”
“I am very upset?” The dark sound he made might have been a chuckle had it come from anyone else. “I am so far beyond upset. I am ready to take lives. I am aching,
aching
,” he stressed on a moan, “to go back and wreak havoc on that city of mine. I want the East River to flow with blood in place of water. I want bodies piled in the streets. I will create mountains of them until I find the man who stole my baby brother from me. I want the sound of grief to be the only one I hear as I search.” He gripped her ribs just below her breasts and pushed her until she came up against the door. “Would you like to know who is going to prevent me from becoming the boogeyman to so many innocent people? Who will stop me from taking the head of someone’s father? Who will stop me from ripping out the heart of a mother’s son? Who will stop me from bathing in the blood of another man’s brother?”
She was panting with a mix of horror and compassion. And yes, arousal. Because she knew he could pull it off, all of it, in the name of revenge over the loss of his loved one. She was mortified to realize that made her burn.
“Who?” she whispered just because she wanted to hear him say it. Was dying to hear it.
He brushed his lips across the thin skin below her eyes and then down the side of her nose. When he reached her mouth, he pressed them together. But it wasn’t a kiss. “You.”
All at once, his tongue came out, her breast was cupped, her right ass cheek grasped, and she was yanked into a thick erection that burrowed into her navel.
“Would you like to know what you are going to do, my pet?”
She gripped his muscular forearms and nodded. She should be terrified right now. Why wasn’t she? He was talking about murdering people.
“You are going to let me fuck you. You are going to let me use this exquisite body in any way I choose. With my mouth, my hands, my aching cock. You will allow anything I wish. I will bury myself in your pussy. In this throat I cannot stop looking at.” He bit down on the cord in her neck, making her moan as he pressed his fingers against her voice box. “I will sink my cock into you and pleasure you until you are screaming loud enough to wake the dead. And you will accommodate me willingly and with a smile. Then, when I am sure I will not cut the population of Manhattan by a third, I will allow you to leave my home.”
Holy shit. “You’re crazy.”
He opened his jaw and lifted his head. “You do not have to fear me. I assure you; they are tightly bound.”
They?
She was almost afraid to ask. “Who?”
“My demons,
draga
.”
The hair on her nape sprang up, but before his revelation sent her running, an image of how he’d looked when she’d entered that visitation room filled her mind. There had been scores of people quietly and respectfully sitting behind him, his cousins at his side. Even Vex, Kristen’s stepbrother, had been near. Yet Lucian had been in a world of his own. He’d been the most solitary figure she’d ever seen among others. Her first thought had been to paint him, her second, to soothe him. Now she had her chance.
But like this?
How would you deal if Miranda was murdered?
a voice in her head asked.
If your go-to was sex, would you not want to seek out this man? Would you not do anything you could to lose yourself in him?
“Why didn’t you bring someone else here?” She held her breath and waited for his answer.
“Because I do not want anyone else. I want you.”
He had her. With a few words, he’d honed in on her greatest desire. He’d given her something she’d craved from the time she was a child. He wanted her. Her. No else would do because Lucian Fane wanted…her.
That softness around her heart snugged up and happily settled in as Yasmeen tested the hard muscle under her fingers. “What if, come morning, you realize you’ve made a mistake and you don’t really want to go here?”
His hand moved down an inch to grip her ribs. He gave her a little shake. It reminded her of how an animal would play with his food. “Oh, but I do want to go here.” He squeezed her ass. “Right here.” Back to her breast he came to cup it gently. “And here.” He released it too soon and traveled down her tight stomach. He brought his other hand around at the same time, so they both gripped low on her hips. Her heart thudded as she waited, wanted. And she got what she craved when he pulled her in tight and ground his erection into the top of her pussy. “Here, I do not want to go; I
need
to go.”
Yes
, she moaned silently. Just for a little while.
Until he’s better
, she promised herself. She could experience the earth shattering pleasure of being with him a couple of times while spending a day or two in a place she knew she’d find fascinating. Then, before she could witness his interest in her waning—or become attached, as she was so afraid she could do with him—she would convince him to take her home, and she’d force herself to move on. Something she knew very well she hadn’t been doing.
Move on to what?
The question echoed quietly in her head but she heard it as if it was screamed. Felt it. Right down deep in her soul. Maybe
she
was the crazy one, because as dangerous and foolish as it was, moving on from this man wasn’t something she wanted to do.
“I should continue arguing but I won’t. I’ll just hope your conscience comes out of hiding at some point and kicks your ass for doing things this way.”
“My conscience cannot come out of hiding, Yasmeen. He is dead.”
He grabbed her by the upper arms and practically lifted her off her feet as he brought her to the ornate bed with its canopy of hanging sheers. He threw her face-first into a soft cloud of cream linens and tasseled pillows. Her hair fell over her eyes so she didn’t see that he’d come down with her until she felt his heavy weight land on her. His hands were suddenly everywhere. He wasn’t gentle. His voice wasn’t anywhere near tender as he rumbled a continuous stream of something she couldn’t understand because he was speaking Romanian. All she made out was Markus’s name intermingled with the odd curse in English. Her one funeral dress was ruined, torn down the back and ripped away from her body. He left her in her underwear, stockings, and heels.
He barely shifted to remove his own clothes, but skin finally met skin and the first moan to escape was hers.
“Yes, pet. You will give me what I need, hmm?”
Yes. Because you want me.
He spread her legs by inching them apart with his knees, teasing now. She started when she felt two of his fingers drag down from her tailbone and get between her legs where he soon learned the extent of her arousal. He hooked her damp thong over one cheek then swatted the globe hard enough to make her cry out. Desire burst from her pulsing core.
The second moan to come from her sounded when he burrowed that large hand under her navel to lift her, positioning her for entry. The third was one of relief and pleasure when she once more experienced the incredible sensation of this man connecting their bodies. After two long years of remembering and wishing she could have this again, the speed with which he took her was a beautiful gift he gave without even realizing it.
He thrust his strong hips, slowly dragging his smooth head through her wetness a few times before pumping straight in. He wrung the most desperate sounds from her as he stretched her pussy. The jagged, panting gasps made it clear an orgasm was already hovering. That easily. His long fingers grasped her jaw and wrenched her head back. He did that thing again when he pressed their mouths together, but he didn’t kiss her.
“You’ve been waiting for me,” he said in a knowing tone that made her want to swat him.
But how could she deny it? Despite what he’d done to get her here, she couldn’t hide the fact that her body was celebrating this reunion. She was dripping with arousal, her skin singing where it touched his, her heart slamming in time with the erratic thud of his as it beat against her back. Just like the last time, within moments, she was wrapped up in this man who feared no one but God. She felt as if she’d come home.
The thing was, she’d never had a real home, so how could she recognize such a thing in someone who saw her as nothing more than a temporary distraction?
“Yasmeen.”
She squeezed her eyes shut when he licked at the seam of her lips. She felt exposed enough already, and that was not something she was used to. She didn’t share herself. How could she admit to him she’d missed this, had never stopped thinking about him, had dreamed of him, fantasized about him. That would open her up completely, and she didn’t do that for anyone. Not ever. Because it had been proven too many times that people would inevitably pass her up for something better, and she’d be left without the small part of herself she’d given them. Eventually, what would be left of her?
Nothing.
“While I worship within this temple, you will give me what I need.” He worked his hands down to grasp her hips so he could draw his length out then hit so hard she screamed and tried to scramble away from the crushing pleasure. She couldn’t take that. If she accepted it, it would break her. He jerked her back and did it again. It nearly crippled her.
“Goddamn you,” she breathed as her addiction roared to life once more. She pressed her hands into the downy blankets and pushed back. Meeting him. Encouraging him. “Yes! Again. Again, Lucian!” As she demanded more, she squirmed to take him deeper and grabbed at his thigh to bring him as close as possible.
It wasn’t close enough.
“Yes, Yasmeen.” He bucked into her. “This. This is what will save lives.” He clasped her throat as he came off her back and jerked her up onto her knees. He knocked her legs wider so that she fell deeper onto his thrusting cock. One of his hands roughly palmed her breast, his thumb scoring the nipple. “This voice shouting my name. The heat from this body warming my skin.” Right at her ear, he rasped, “This sweet little pussy gripping me as if she’ll never let go.
“Stop it,” she begged as she grabbed the hand at her throat with both of hers and held on when she felt his fingers slide down her stomach to get between her legs. They struck her inflamed clit with a sharp pat that made something explode deep in her core. “Oh, God! Don’t stop!” She was done. Her senses left her, and she became a mindless pleasure seeker meeting him stroke for stroke. “More…harder…I need
more
of you. Give it!”
“Admit you have been waiting for me,
draga
.”
“I have!” she burst out, uncaring. “I’ve been waiting forever!”
“Then
you
give it to
me
,” he commanded as her climax crested. “I want it dripping from my cock.”
She clawed at his tattooed wrist as her body surrendered. He pushed her down with a hand at the top of her spine. She buried her face in the sheets and wailed as if in pain through a beautiful release that flooded his shaft, just as he’d demanded. Her blood was raging, her body on absolute fire, her back arching as she agonized. There was nothing but a growling satisfaction in the words that came from above her.
“Look at you tremble. Look at this body break apart for me.” He switched to Romanian and then came back to English. “And this, my pet.
This
is why you will stay.”
God help her, but in that working part of her mind, she was terrified he was right.