Page 51 of Veil of Obsession

“Lucio.” I moan. It’s a plea. A challenge. An offering.

His answer? A low, guttural groan, his fingers bruising against my hips as he grinds into me again, the sharp press of metal against my core making me gasp. I feel it. The weight of his arousal. The cruel, teasing drag of his piercing against my clit through the layers of fabric between us.

It’s not enough. It’s nowhere near enough. I arch against him, my breath hitching, my body demanding more, more, more.

But then he pulls back. Too fast. Too suddenly.

I blink, my chest heaving, lips swollen from his kisses, as he takes a slow step away from me.

“What the fuck?” I rasp, panting, heat coiling, throbbing, desperate for relief.

Lucio smirks, but his eyes are darker now, unreadable. He lifts a hand, tracing his thumb over my bottom lip—soft, slow, teasing—before dragging it down my throat and letting his fingers linger at the dip of my collarbone. His touch is light. Cruel.

“You’re a fucking menace,” he murmurs, almost like a compliment. “You know that, don’t you?”

I swallow hard, my pulse racing, but I don’t answer. Because I don’t have to. We both know the truth.

Lucio chuckles—low, rough, edged with something darker. Then his hand drops, his gaze sharpening as he takes a slow step back.

“As much as I’d love to fuck you against this wall…” he muses, rolling his shoulders, his voice deliberately taunting. “You’ve made things… complicated.”

My breath hitches, but not from arousal this time. Not from the ache between my thighs. From his tone. From the weight behind his words.

“What do you mean?” I ask carefully.

Lucio exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair, his frustration breaking through his controlled exterior for a split second. Then, just as fast, it’s gone.

“Because of you…” he murmurs, stepping back into the shadows—a ghost slipping into the night, leaving only chaos behind. “The Camorra is in hot water.”

My stomach twists.

The Camorra. Him. His family.

I part my lips to demand more, to ask him what the fuck that means, but Lucio just smirks, his gaze dropping one last time to my swollen lips and heaving chest.

“You want this, Princess?” he murmurs, voice low, dangerous, tempting.

I glare, my body still throbbing and aching for him. “You know I do.”

He chuckles. A slow, dark thing that makes my spine prickle.

“Then be patient.” He backs away, leaving me standing there wrecked, frustrated, and desperate. “When the time is right, I’ll fuck you. Long, hard, and until you understand exactly what it means to be hunted, little stalker.”

His gaze burns as it locks onto mine one last time—a promise, a warning, a claim. “But only on my terms.”

And then he’s gone. Leaving me alone in the dark.

Wanting. Needing. Cursing his fucking name.

18

Lucio

Ishould be pissed. I should go back there and drag her back to my apartment. Make her explain every single fucking moment she’s been watching me. Instead…

I’m smiling.

A slow, dangerous smirk as I press the button for the elevator to my penthouse. My knuckles are still tight from where I gripped her waist, my body still thrumming with the ghost of her fucking lips.