Page 10 of Bought (BOUGHT TRILOGY #1)

CHAPTER TEN

Erin

His finger vanishes. The inside of my thighs turns cold. My eyes snap open. “More?”

“Soon.”

Lucian’s mouth distracts me, tilting against my skin with a sensation that feels like satisfaction, like a predator finally closing in. His hands move higher, thumbs resting just beneath the swell of my breasts, not quite touching.

Only promising.

He cups me slowly, deliberately, through the thin silver fabric, and my knees press together as a rush of heat floods lower. He groans into my neck, the sound low, involuntary, like I’ve torn something raw out of him.

“I should take this off you,” he says, hands sliding down my body and tugging lightly at the stretchy hem wrapped around the tops of my thighs.

I swallow hard and dare him. “Then do it.”

He pulls back to look at my face. “I will. But you’ll be over my lap when I do.”

“What?” I read his rules, the things I agreed to, and the naughty, delicious things he might do to me. Overwhelmed by everything else, they might have slipped my mind.

“No coat ?” The word is quiet, but it reverberates through me like a warning bell.

“I left it in the house,” I say, already flushing. “I was rushing out.”

His voice is a steady, velvety tone, all control. “Rule number one. Put yourself first. How can you care for your strays if you don’t even keep yourself warm?”

“It’s just a coat,” I whisper, hating how small I sound.

It happens in a blink, so swift and unyielding that I lose my breath.

One moment I’m perched on the velvet edge of the sofa, trembling but steady, and the next I’m yanked across Lucian’s lap. My world flips upside down. His arm wraps around my waist, like wrought iron in a dress shirt, holding me so tightly there’s no point in trying to run.

I claw at the cushion, fingers sinking into the velvet as my cheek presses firmly against his thigh. I can feel his pressure—lean, relentless, merciless. His strength confines me, and the panic throbbing in my chest twists into something shameful.

Fiery hot desire.

The skirt of my dress rode up when he moved me. “You dared me after all,” he quips, tugging the tight, stretchy material up over my curves, baring me.

“Let’s see these pretty panties.” He strokes my bare cheeks, making me regret the tiny thong I wear. “So fucking sexy. Did you wear these for me? Did you know how much I’d like them?”

“Maybe?” Humiliation burns hotter than fire, accompanied by something sharper.

Cool air brushes against the backs of my thighs, then his hand, caressing. I gasp, the sound constricted and wrong, too desperate to be mine. His other hand presses flat against my lower back, and to my horror, I arch into it.

I am never this weak.

Only for him.

The room narrows until only his body is beneath me and the promise of what he’s about to do.

I should be trying to escape, but instead, I press even harder against him.

“You’re not even going to fight?” he murmurs, his words a velvet razor against my ear.

The comment makes me even weaker. I want to retort, to say something sharp and clever, but all that leaves my throat is a strangled whimper, too raw for defiance.

I’m terrified. I’m hungry. And I’m ashamed of both.

I should hate him for this. Instead, I fall headfirst into the dark, sweet current that’s pulling me under. I’ve already surrendered to him before his hand even lands.

The first spank is sharp, deliberate. My body jolts, a gasp slipping free before I can bite it back. Pain radiates, but underneath it, there’s a pulse of heat that has me moaning.

He caresses the sting, slow and soothing, before lifting again. The second strike is harder, and the contrast makes my skin prickle. I choke on the moan.

His words are low, gravel over silk. “Mine. Every moan belongs to me.” Another swat, firmer, and I can’t stop the whimper that escapes.

He strokes my bottom again, warm palm lingering, massaging over the tender heat he’s building. “Good girl,” he says, and the words sink into me deeper than the sting.

I’m stunned by how intense the praise makes me ache. My pride warns me that this is wrong, but every part of me yearns for him. “You take it so well,” he says with his hand trailing over my skin. “Obedient and beautiful.”

“Say it.” His hand tightens at my waist. “Tell me you’re worth taking care of.”

"Lucian..." I whimper. “I can’t.” Another smack lands, sharp and punishing, and I cry out. My resistance crumbles, and my voice breaks as I gasp out the words, “I’m worth it!”

“That’s right. You are.” His hand caresses my bottom again, slow, possessive, as though he’s sculpting me into submission.

“Yes,” I breathe, broken and trembling.

Tears burn hot and bright in the corners of my eyes, but it’s not from the spanking or the pain. I’ve carried the burden of worrying about those I love for a long time.

Now, he’s made my well-being his concern.

And I’m supposed to put his at risk.

His hand keeps stroking, the heat from his spanking making me dizzy. “Good girl,” he whispers more softly this time. His praise sends pleasure through me.

Shame and desire are so closely linked I can’t tell them apart. I don’t know where one ends and the other begins. My body feels like every nerve is focused on him.I almost confess right here over his lap.

But the sting of another spank cuts me off.

By the time his hand finally slows, I’m undone. A tear slips free. His palm lingers, stroking the sting he left behind, his touch painfully tender against the fire he’s just ignited on my skin.

“You did so well.” His breath warms the shell of my ear, dark silk wrapping around me. Then he’s pulling me up, settling me on his lap, and he’s wrapped around me like that bear hug from the first night when he kissed me. “What are you feeling?”

I brush away a tear. “Truth? I thought that game was over.”

“Overwhelmed?” He studies my face so intently that I have to look away.

He scoops my chin, drawing back my face to his.

I give a tight smile, admitting the strange truth, “A release. One I needed.”

“You took your lesson like a good girl. And good girls deserve to be rewarded.”

My chest tightens. “Rewarded?” I whisper naively.

His fingers slide down, trailing inside my thigh. His voice deepens, edged with steel. “I’m going to put my mouth between your thighs and taste how wet you are for me. Because you are wet, aren’t you?”

Heat floods my cheeks. I want to deny it, but the ache between my thighs pulses with every word. He tests his theory by rubbing the gusset of my panties.

I moan loudly, my head falling back.

He chuckles low, almost cruelly. “You tried to hide it, but your body doesn’t lie. You loved every second of me punishing you. Now you’ll love my tongue even more.”

Before I can protest, he shifts me, guiding me onto my back across the sofa. My dress rides up higher, settling around my hips. His hands slide my thighs apart.

“Look at you,” he growls, eyes locked on my scantily clad body. “Soaked from being spanked. From obeying me. You love it, don’t you, good girl?” His thumbs hook into the lace at my hips, tugging the thong down and tossing it away.

I squeeze my eyes shut, shame prickling. But then his hands grip my knees, spreading me wider, forcing me to surrender.

I’ve never felt cool air on me like this before and never had someone study me so closely. It feels too intimate, too intense. A horrible dread and surge of excitement rush through me as he looks up at me from between my legs.

“Eyes on me, Erin.” I want to groan and hide my face in my arm, but his command leaves no room for escape. “I’ll make you remember to care for yourself. You’ll feel me here, kissing, licking, owning you.”

All I can do is try to breathe.

He flashes a wicked grin at me. “Has anyone ever done this to you before?”

“No. You’ll be the first.”

He gives a low moan, my admission clearly turning him on, and I’m rewarded for my gift by his mouth suddenly on me—hot, wet, relentless. My gasp shatters into a cry as his tongue flicks, licks, and claims. It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt in my life.

“Good girl,” he hums against me, savoring me, each word vibrating into my core.

“You take it so well.” Shame twists with need, spiraling tightly until I can’t tell them apart.

My hips arch helplessly, chasing his mouth, and he praises me for my greed.

“That’s it. Give in. Show me how much you love being mine. ”

All I can do is drown in the sinful pleasure of his tongue, the filthy words, and the terrifying truth—I feel like I’m going to explode. The building climax feels like I’m going to pee and sneeze at the same time. Or implode. It comes for me fast, hard, and biting.

With my fingernails digging into his shoulders, I scream his name. “Lucian! Lucian!” He laughs against me, pushing me over the edge, and I cry out, “Oh god!”

When I can’t take any more, he pulls back, watching me closely as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. I collapse against the bed, weak and trembling.

Finally, I can throw my arm over my eyes and try to block him out.

I am completely overwhelmed. By him. By how much I want him.

And how much I don’t want to betray him.