Page 13 of Bought

My free hand slides up the inside of her thigh, over the satin. The silky material is damp. My cock twitches, pushing up against her.

“You’re wet, for me,” I say.

She doesn’t deny it. Her lips part, kissing my earlobe, forcing a moan from me.

Where is the wallflower virgin I ordered, the one I’m supposed to control, then forget?

I shift my hand, knuckles grazing her heat, letting the fabric drag against her clit as I stroke her through it. Her breath catches, barely, but enough I notice.

Moving my hands to her shoulders, I pull her back so I can see her face and demand, “Say my name.”

She contemplates me for a moment. “I don’t know it. I was only told you’re Mr. Bachman.”

“It’s Lucian. Say it.”

She waits. A beat. Then breaths out, “Lucian,” the sound branding me with something that feels damn close to ownership.

But I’m not the one being claimed here.

I shove her panties to the side.

“These shouldn’t even be here. You knew better. I told you not to wear them. And you did anyway.” My fingers find her center—hot, soaked, ready for me—and I groan low in my throat. “Looks like you’re a little girl who craves a challenge.”

“I found one,” she gasps. “You.”

“You’re already wet.” I circle her clit once, featherlight. “Probably because it turns you on, knowing what a naughty girl you’ve been.”

She swallows hard, her nails biting into my shoulders like she’s bracing for punishment. Good. She should be.

“I told you not to wear them,” I growl against her neck. “Did you forget who you answer to tonight?”

“No,” she whispers.

“No, who?”

Her eyes flutter open wide, guilty and desperate. “No, Lucian.”

“That’s strike one.”

I press two fingers into her tight, greedy heat. She clenches around me like she was made to take this, to take me. Her back arches, her lips parting on a gasp.

“That’s it,” I say. “Take me in. Let me feel how sorry you are.”

She rocks into my hand, chasing friction, chasing relief. But she doesn’t get to come yet. Not after disobeying me.

I catch her rhythm and pump with slow, deliberate strokes. My thumb circles her clit once—enough to make her moan, enough to light her nerves on fire. She starts to fall apart too fast, her body trembling, her breathing ragged.

I stop.

Right on the edge.

“Lucian,” she whines.

“Oh, now you remember my name?” I lean in, lips brushing her ear. “You don’t get to come, not until I say.”

“Please…”

“You covered what belongs to me. Those were the rules. All mine. One night.”