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My heart hammered. My eyes contacted his and I fell, like I had all those years ago, into ice and sweet desire.
This man…God, I couldn’t say no to him. His demanding gaze, the tremor in his body as he dragged his dripping cock over my lower belly—it had my legs shaking before he even touched my pussy.
“Lucien,” I whispered, my hips working against nothing.
His body rolled from mine, his big hands gripping my hips and bringing me on top. Lifting me up and settling me over his face.
Arousal shot through my hips and up my spine, making my breasts ache and my nipples tingle with the need to be touched. To be rolled between his fingers, tortured by him until he drew an orgasm from me.
“Lucien,” I begged.
His glacial eyes snapped open between my thighs.
“If all you can say is my name, I would be content,” he said. “But I know you can beg better than that. Tell me you want me to fuck your little cunt.”
I bit my lip, rubbing my slick pussy over his mouth. Riding his face the way I knew he craved.
“Go on,” he ordered.
“I…I want you to fuck my pussy,” I whispered.
“Cunt, Olivia. Fucking say it, you’re a dirty little slut and you use that mouth for far dirtier things than saying that word.”
My head fell back, the ceiling swirling overhead. His tongue dragged hot and wet over my opening, licking the slickness from me like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted.
“Please, Lucien,” I begged. “Make me come and fuck my cunt.”
He growled and his tongue thrust inside me, fucking twice before withdrawing. Pleasure surged in a wave and my thighs shook around his head. His hand skimmed up and he licked his two fingers and parted me. His middle fingers delved into the slick muscles between my legs.
Oh God, he knew how to use his hands.
My spine arced so hard it popped. Heat coiled and built, like a wildfire surging through my body. There was nothing, no villa, no ocean crashing against the shore. Just this man, this hard, scarred man and the things he did to me in the secrecy of our bed.
His tongue lapped at my clit, pushing me higher. Up to the crest of the hill where I couldn’t control the shaking of my thighs or the sweat prickling down my spine. My lips parted, but I couldn’t form the words to beg for mercy.
His unrelenting gaze never left my face. There was a focused glitter in his eyes that came out only when he was killing or fucking. It had been there on our wedding night and when he’d thrown Romano’s corpse onto the ground at my feet.
If I had any sense at all I’d have run from it. But he’d hooked me so deeply there was no going back. A decade later, he had me addicted to being his prey.
“Fuck,” I wailed. “Lucien.”
His thumb replaced his mouth, rubbing my clit in quick circles.
“Eyes on me while you come,” he ordered.
It took all my willpower, but I managed to bring my gaze back to his. Arousal pounded almost painfully where his fingers caressed my inner muscles. My entire body burned.
“Lucien—”
“Quiet,” he ordered. “Breathe through it like a good girl.”
Cowed, I obeyed. My pussy was so sensitive I was halfway between whimpering and crying. Tears streamed down my face and my thighs were so unsteady I had to relent and sag onto his face. His hand moved up and lifted me, keeping me an inch from his mouth.
His two fingers worked my G-spot. Coaxing the pressure in my hips. An intense, warm need sparked against my inner front wall and I knew what was coming. All of the dammed up pleasure was about to burst out of me in a river.
“Lucien,” I whispered. “Let me lie back.”
He cocked his head.
