Chapter 152: Perfection.
Chapter 152
The invitation was a match dropped into a room filled with gasoline. Lucian didn’t hesitate anymore; the last fraying thread of his legendary, centuries-old restraint didn’t just break.
It snapped with the violent finality of a bridge collapsing under the weight of an impossible storm.
The air in the suite seemed to implode. Lucian’s hand, which had been resting tentatively and with agonizing caution on the small of her back, slid upward with a possessive speed that made her skin tingle and her breath hitch.
Using his fingers that were tangled deep into the damp silk of her hair, he tilted Isabella’s head back at an almost punishing angle, a move of pure dominance that exposed the long, elegant line of her throat to the dim light and his burning gaze.
Before she could even draw a breath of air, his mouth crashed down onto hers. His tongue swept into her mouth, claiming her territory with a territorial dominance that left Isabella breathless, her head spinning in a dizzying whirl of heat as she felt the sheer, unadulterated force of Lucian’s hunger.
Her moan was instantly swallowed, lost in the suffocating intensity of the contact. She had won this game of provocation, but the prize was a storm she wasn’t entirely sure she could survive.
Her hands, already tangled in the fine fabric of his shirt, bunched the dark silk into her fists with a desperate strength, pulling him closer, and then closer still, until there wasn’t a single millimeter of air left between them to act as a buffer.
Lucian let out a low growl deep in his chest—a sound more animal than man, a vibration that Isabella felt in her own lungs.
Without breaking the kiss, without giving her a moment to find her footing, he began to back her up.
Isabella’s heels caught momentarily in the thick, plush pile of the carpet, the world tilting beneath her bare feet, but he didn’t let her fall.
He pinned her against the edge of the massive, dark-wood wardrobe, his body an immovable wall of muscle, crushing her soft, yielding curves against the unyielding surface of the wood.
The contrast was staggering, making her acutely aware of the terrifying disparity in their sizes, of just how much larger, stronger, and more dangerous he truly was when he stopped pretending to be civilized.
His hands were everywhere at once, reaching for the robe. His fingers hooked into the plush material at her shoulders, and with a single, rough motion, he pulled the white garment completely off her arms.
He didn’t cast it aside. He let it fall until it hung precariously around her waist, the only thing holding it from dropping completely to the floor was the insistent pressure of his hips pinned firmly against hers.
He broke the kiss just to trail his lips down the column of her throat, savoring every taste of her until he reached her collarbone.
His teeth, sharp and demanding, grazed the sensitive, translucent skin right over her pulse point.
There, Isabella’s heart was thrumming, her body arching instinctively for him to sink his fangs into the flesh, to mark her in the way only he could.
But Lucian was focused on a different kind of claim. As the robe fell further, Isabella felt the cool air hit her bare skin.
Now that she was in her right senses—stripped of the blood high—she was acutely, painfully aware of her nakedness.
The wardrobe was cold against her back, and she felt small, so incredibly small, in the shadow of his massive frame.
The old, familiar ghosts of her insecurities came rushing back with a vengeance. She wasn’t some super model like Clara nor does she have the curves of her sister Selena.
She was just Isabella, and as his mouth moved lower, she felt a sudden urge to cover herself. She was bare-chested now, her modest curves exposed to the lamplight and the gaze of an ancient being who had seen beauty in every form across the centuries.
A soft, self-conscious hitch caught in her breath, and her shoulders hunched slightly, an instinctive movement to shield herself from his scrutiny.
Lucian felt the shift in her immediately. He stopped his descent, his forehead resting for a moment against the valley between her breasts, his breathing a harsh rasp that scorched her skin.
He looked up, his eyes no longer just red but glowing with a fierce honest crimson that seemed to look right through her.
He saw the flicker of doubt in her gaze, the way she bit her lip as if trying to shrink away. He reached out, his large, calloused hands cupping her breasts with a reverence that made her heart stop.
They weren’t overly large, but to him, they seemed to be the only thing in the world that mattered.
His thumbs traced slow circles over the sensitive peaks, making them swell and harden beneath his touch.
"You are perfection," he growled, the words vibrating against her skin as he leaned in. "Every inch of you... every curve... it is mine."
Isabella let out a broken, high-pitched moan as the heat of his palms chased away her shame. She threw her head back against the wardrobe, the wood hitting her skull with a dull thud that she barely felt.
"Lucian... ahhh... please..." He didn’t make her wait. He lowered his head, his mouth opening over one pale, taut peak.
When his tongue flicked against her nipple, Isabella’s back arched off the wardrobe so violently that her spine cracked.
A loud, unashamed moan tore from her throat—a sound of pure, shocking physical pleasure that echoed through the vaulted ceiling.
"Oh... god, Lucian... mmm... yes..." The sound of her own pleasure seemed to embolden him, turning his hunger into something even more primal.
He took her into his mouth, his suction firm and demanding, pulling a deep groan from his own throat.
Isabella’s knees buckled, her strength deserting her, and she would have collapsed into a heap on the floor if his arm hadn’t snapped out to catch her.
He caught her by the waist, his steel-like forearm hoisting her up until she wrapped her legs around his waist, successful letting the rope hit the floor like rag.
With the final barrier gone, Isabella was entirely adrift in a sea of sensory overload. Her legs, driven by a primal instinct she no longer sought to control, locked firmly around Lucian’s narrow waist, her ankles crossing behind the small of his back to anchor her to the only solid thing in her universe.
The immediate result was a physical shock that nearly sent her mind into a total blackout.
As she pulled herself flush against him, her naked, sensitized core made direct, jarring contact with the rougher texture of his trousers.
The friction was electric—a searing, dragging heat that moved against her most vulnerable folds with every ragged breath he took.
Isabella’s head snapped back, her eyes rolling toward the ceiling as a long, high-pitched moan tore from her throat, echoing through the cavernous suite.
"Lucian... oh god," she whimpered and the sound of her surrender only stoked the furnace of his own need.
Lucain focus narrowed down to the pale, heaving swell of her breast. His mouth a hot and wet brand as it reclaimed her nipple, devouring her.
His suction becoming deeper and more insistent until Isabella felt the pull in the very pit of her stomach.
The sensation was so intense and yet so expansive, that she felt her muscles begin to twitch and fail.
Her thighs tightened around his hips, her toes curling into the small of his back as a wave of pre-orgasmic tremors began to ripple through her.
She felt as though she were on the verge of a physical convulsion, her body threatening to shut down under the sheer weight of the pleasure he was extracting from her.
"I can’t... Lucian, stop... no, don’t stop," she was a gasping mess, her hands flying to his head, her fingers digging ruthlessly into the thick, dark silk of his hair.
He broke away from her breast, making Isabella confused but the sight of him was enough to make her heart skip a beat.
His face was flushed, his lips wet and swollen from her skin, and his eyes were dark with a craving that went beyond the physical.
Lucian let out a groan against her skin, shifting his grip. His large, powerful hands slid beneath the soft curve of her bottom to hold her more securely, the heat of his palms seeping into her skin.
He hoisted her higher against his frame, the movement causing another agonizingly slow slide of her core against his clothed front.
Isabella let out a strangled cry into his shoulder, her teeth grazing the silk of his shirt as she fought for air.
He began to move out from the wardrobe and towards the bed.