Page 28 of Bought (BOUGHT TRILOGY #1)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Lucian

She’s so beautiful it hurts to look at her. Arms stretched up over her head, the thin ropes dip into her perfect skin. Chin jutted out like she does. And those eyes.

Overwhelmed yet begging.

She’s a work of art.

The ache in my chest comes from knowing she’s been lying to me.

Hiding. Betraying.

I don’t know how far the lies go, how deep the betrayal is, but I’m going to find out.

I grip the handle of the crop tighter.

Now the real interrogation begins.

I raise the riding crop again, savoring the slow pull of tension before I bring it down beneath her breast. The leather tip traces the underside with a cruel precision. Erin’s body shivers against the ropes; her whimper slips into the charged air.

She’s caught somewhere between guilt and need, and I smile.

“When did you first meet the Morettis?” I snap the crop between her legs. “And don’t lie.”

Watching her jolt feels good. Like I earned it.

She chokes out, “I didn’t know anything about them. Nothing at all. Not when we first came here.”

I follow with a series of light taps to make her core throb. She moans.

“But eventually, you did.” I step closer, sliding my fingers under her chin and lifting her face to mine. I smell the faint trace of her shampoo mixed with her arousal. “And you knew you were sleeping with the enemy.”

She strains against her ropes. “I didn’t think you’d want me if you knew?—”

My voice drops low, “Too late,” as I crush my mouth against hers. My tongue claims hers, marking it as my territory. “I already want you. Too much.”

When I pull back, she’s gasping, those eyes begging for more.

I slip behind her, dropping the crop. “That’s why I need to know the truth. To see if I can trust you moving forward.” My calloused fingers trail over the ropes hugging her ribs, then wind down to the apex of her thighs.

I spread her legs with my fingers, and she moans, “Oh my God,” as I find her slick heat.

Gentle, reading her body, her breaths, so I know where to touch, how to stroke, how much pressure to use…

I drag the truth from her.

“You want to tell me more, sweet girl?” I whisper against her ear, aching with need.

“I’m scared,” she breathes. “Not of this. Of you leaving. If I tell you everything.”

Her words tear me in two. I swore to her I wouldn’t walk away before I found out that she was hiding the fact that she and her entire family were living with Valentino Moretti’s sister.

I believe her when she says she didn’t know about Bambi’s family until after she arrived. I’m not sure what happened after her arrival. What I really need to know is how involved she is with them.

And I’m dreading the answer.

The pain in my chest intensifies. It’s hard to breathe. I want to run away with her in my arms, find a place where things between us can be as simple as we thought they’d be when she first arrived.

Only she wouldn’t be my paid date this time. And it wouldn’t be for one night.

She would belong to me. Mine. Forever.

But that’s not possible in my world, and now, whatever she’s gotten herself into, it’s not in hers either.

Blaze will want every detail from her. Anything less than a complete admission is unforgivable in his eyes. He’s probably standing outside the garage right now, listening for the truth.

If so, enjoy the show, dirty boy.

I freeze, then tighten my grip.

“I don’t leave my girl,” I slip two fingers inside her, slow and deep. “Even if she keeps secrets. Even if she tests my patience.”

“Please,” she quivers, pressing back against the wall, bound, begging, trusting me with every inch.

I push my fingers deeper inside her. “But I have to have my girl’s loyalty. Otherwise, there can be nothing between us.”

She gasps, struggling to keep her composure, but her voice shakes as she says, “I shouldn’t have asked you to meet me again without telling you about Bambi.”

“Good girl. Now we’re getting somewhere.” I reward her by stroking her velvety inside, hitting the G-spot, and massaging it until her hips are rocking and she’s moaning. “If you want more, give me more.”

“Oh—okay,” she whispers, thinking, then says, “If you can leave the past in the past, and forget about it.” She inhales sharply as I thrust again. “You have it. Lucian, you have all of me.”

Deliberately slow, I rob her of my fingers.

“No!” Her jaw drops open, her lashes fluttering as she comes to. “Don’t stop.”

I want her like this, aching for me, begging for the release only I can give her.

I stare at her face as I unknot the ropes around her breasts. The only sound in the garage is our heaving breaths and the silk sliding through my fingers. I unlatch her cuffs from the iron circles over her head, but I leave them on.

Grabbing her wrists, I tug. “Come with me,” I guide her over to the black leather pommel horse, arranging her so her stomach is pressed into the padded top, arms hanging down in front of her. “Bend over so I can see every inch of that beautiful body of yours.”

Freeing myself from my pants, I step in front of her, cock bare and eager.

“You’re going to stay just like this,” I command, nodding at her spread limbs. “Bound. Beautiful. Open.” I press my head against her entrance, but hold.

She tries to arch into me, “Please,” but I hold her hips tight. Denying her.

I smooth my flattened palm from her waist to the base of her neck. “Tell me you want this.”

“I want this,” she pants. “I want you.”

I slide in fast and hard, “Then take me, baby,” hard enough to make her choke with a gasp, then pull her towards me as I slam my hips forward, entering her entirely. I grip her hips tighter, pulling her deeper until I bottom out.

“This pussy is mine,” I rumble against her neck. “Say it.”

“Yours,” she pants. “All yours.”

“Like you said, the past is in the past.” I sharpen each thrust, my fingers digging into her soft flesh, so I’ll leave marks for tomorrow.

A reminder that she’s mine.

I fuck her harder, each stroke punishing and possessive. The edge of the bench must be digging into her belly, padded as it is, but she doesn’t hold back, not at all, meeting me stroke for stroke, pushing her ass back greedily.

I yank her head back by her hair, moving her mouth under mine. I hover over her. “No more lies.”

“Promise.” Her voice cracks.

I ask because I need to know. “Tell me. Now. Was I your first?”

She shudders around me. “Oh my God! Yes, Lucian. Don’t ask that?—”

I kiss her. Hard. Her admission brings me a heady sense of satisfaction that has me driving into her again, brutal and claiming. I grit out, “You’re mine. Every goddamn inch. Every dirty secret. Every lie.”

She answers on another desperate thrust, “Yes, Lucian. I’m yours.” I push her back down over the bench.

I reach between her and the bench, my thumb pressing against her clit.

I bite her neck. She flares, body burning, and screams, the sound raw and beautiful.

I ride her through that tremor, chasing my own release like a man possessed.

When I spill inside her, it’s with a curse, a groan, one last savage thrust that sends her spiraling into another orgasm, her muscles locking down on me.

Then silence. I don’t move. I stay buried in her.

My lips brush the bruise she’ll soon have on her neck, another mark, then move to her ear. “You’re mine. All of you. You know what that means?”

She trembles. “No more lies.”

“That’s my good girl.” I lean down and place a single reverent kiss on her shoulder. Then I shift, unlocking the cuffs. I turn her around, folding her shaky arms between us as I wrap my arms around her.

I hold her. Tight. She gazes up at me, wide-eyed, undone.

I carry her to the black leather lounge as if she weighs nothing. She settles against me, legs draped over my lap, thighs sticky with my seed. Her skin is a canvas of red welts and heat.

I reach beside me for a soft towel, the room always prepared. I clean her slowly, reverently. My strokes hover over welts; she flinches. “You’re okay,” I say roughly.

She leans back, eyes blurred. “I didn’t know it could feel like that…”

“That’s because you’ve never belonged to me, babygirl,” I reply without hesitation. “Tomorrow,” I say, cold edge returning, “You come clean with anything else you need to tell me.”

She stiffens. “Okay.” Her tone tells me she’s planning on holding back. How I can read her so well after not knowing her long is a mystery to me.

My mouth finds the curve of her neck, tongue trailing a slow, possessive path. She loves anything I do to her neck. She whimpers.

“Actually,” My voice darkens with promise and threat and desire. “I’ve changed my mind.”

There’s still more I need to accomplish.

I’m not done with her. Not yet.