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Her breasts swayed. His hands gripped her hips tight enough to leave bruises. He controlled her movements, sliding her body forward, coating his cock with her arousal as he withdrew, then slamming back into her deeply. It was as if he was once again showing her that she belonged to him. With each deep and purposeful thrust, he never took his gaze from her.
Her brow pinched in confusion, but she never looked at her reflection. She kept her stare solely on Lucian. She didn’t come. Her body neared a point of pleasure that naturally came no matter how he touched her. Becoming more malleable, she went with his thrusts, but he never eased his grip on her.
He made not a sound. Even the slap of flesh was absent, the material of his pants muffling each hard contact with her ass. His thrusts grew closer together, faster, and with one final, hard slam of his cock he was filling her. His rigid length pulsed within her channel as warmth coated her folds.
She sucked in a breath as he suddenly grabbed her shoulders, pulling her back to his front. He gripped her jaw and turned her face to his shoulder, his mouth connecting with the curve of her throat. It wasn’t a kiss. He sucked her flesh between his lips and teeth so hard she felt the blood vessels rising. He was marking her.
What did I do?
He sucked on her neck longer than necessary. When he pulled away, there was a purple mark about the size of a small plum. Her hand covered the bruise and she looked at him in confusion.
He swallowed. Uncertainty flashed in his eyes for the briefest second, and then his staunch confidence was back in place. He thrust one last time. “Mine.”
Evelyn’s heart raced. She was glad he said it, because in the last ten minutes her confidence had been shaken. No matter what he was going through, she didn’t want to lose him.
He withdrew and her sex wept with the proof of their intercourse. Rather than clean her up the way he usually did, he reached between her legs, gathering the remnants of their coupling, and smeared it over the delta of her sex and onto her lower belly.
“I want you to leave that there until I wash it off you.”
She nodded, not trusting her voice in that moment. Lucian left her there, kneeling on the stool as he went to clean his hands. As soon as the water shut off he was there with her dress. She stood docilely, allowing him to dress her. Bending at the knee, he lifted her foot, brushing his palm over the forced arch formed by her spiked heel. His actions were tender, loving, a complete contradiction to his behavior minutes ago, yet familiar to Evelyn all the same. Lucian loved her.
He stood, gliding the fitted red dress over her curves and feeding her weakened arms through the straps. His palms brushed over the flare of her hips.
“Turn.”
She pivoted slowly, in a daze. The face she saw in her reflection was washed clean of all innocence. It was the face of a child presented with something they’d never understand, needing to be taken care of. She shivered as his fingers sifted under her hair and draped it over her shoulder. He slid the zipper slowly up her spine and placed a kiss at the nape of her neck before fanning her hair back in place.
The bill was apparently taken care of, because as they emerged from the ladies’ room they went right to the coat check and out to the limo.
***
They entered the condo in silence, tension thick from their unusual evening. As Lucian flipped on the lights, he stilled. “What’s that?”
Evelyn removed her coat and turned. It was the picture she’d bought for him, wrapped in brown butcher paper. Dugan must have had it delivered while they were out. “It’s a gift.”
He stepped closer to the thin package where it stood tilted against his desk.
Lucian was always peculiar when she gave him presents. For a man who had everything, he seemed to cherish the little things. “It’s for you. I told you I bought it today while we were out.”
His fingers gently traced the edge of the package. “What is it?”
She shrugged. “Go ahead and open it.”
He smiled shyly and lifted the package, giving it a little shake. It was wide and cumbersome. He carried it to the sofa and sat, staring at the paper.
She slid into the seat across from him. “Well, are you going to open it?”
His grin was precious. One would think he was never given a thing in his life. The tear of the paper made a slow ripping sound as he peeled it back. The glass shone. When he noticed Patras Hotel in the frame, his smile doubled. “Hey, I know that place,” he said teasingly.
