Mara.
I moaned as Lucian trailed the feather across my skin–a barely–there sensation that left heat in its wake.
It was maddening, like a phantom touch. I craved the weight of his hands, the press of his body, but he
remained just out of reach.
His expression gave away nothing. That calm, unreadable mask only made me burn more.
He circled each n****e with slow precision, never touching–just circling, teasing, denying. I arched into it, desperate, silently begging for more.
Still, he refused.
The feather dipped lower, brushing over my stomach, skimming my navel. My legs were already spread, but I
tried to open them further, needing something–anything–more.
“Touch me,” I moaned, breath breaking.
He didn’t answer.
Instead, he leaned in close, his lips hovering by my ear. I waited for words. Instead, I felt warm breath-then a
slow lick, followed by a sharp nip that sent a shock straight through me. I gasped, the pain just enough to
intensify the pleasure.
“Lucian,” I whispered, trembling.
He licked the curve of my neck, lingering near his mark on my skin. It made me ache. His mouth traveled
down, slow and deliberate, until it reached my breasts. He took one into his mouth, sucking gently, then bit down lightly–just enough to make me whimper. Then again, on the other side.
My moans caught in my throat. My body was tense, begging.
I was soaked. My body clenched, wanting him inside me. I wasn’t built for patience. He knew that. He was usi
ng that.
“Lucian!” I cried out again, this time nearly broken, my voice raw with need. I bit my lip to hold back the rest-
to keep from completely unraveling.
He finally let his fingers drift down to my center, barely grazing me. He rubbed slow, maddening circles over
my entrance, teasing but never entering.
Then he spoke, his voice low, almost amused.
“You almost gave my father a heart attack with the way you broke the news to him.”
I couldn’t tell if he was mad or turned on. Probably both. But I couldn’t speak–1 could barely breathe.
His lips moved lower.
And I braced myself for whatever he had planned next.
When Lucian pressed a kiss to my mound, I couldn’t help the moan that slipped from my lips–louder now, no longer restrained.
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His mouth moved with exquisite control, his tongue teasing, coaxing, never giving me exactly what I needed.
I wanted to reach out–to grab his hair, to feel him–but I couldn’t. I was bound. Completely at his mercy. And I
realized, with a helpless thrill, that this was the punishment he’d promised. A pleasure–soaked torment.
I was close. So close. Then he stopped.
He smacked my clit lightly, and the jolt made me cry out. My eyes met his between my legs. His face was
calm, but his eyes burned with heat.
“Who is your Alpha?” he asked.
I swallowed, breath ragged. My body still reeled from the denial.
He smacked me again, light but deliberate. “Answer me.”
“You are,” I moaned.
He smiled faintly, eyes locked on mine. “Then remember this, you don’t come until I say so.”
“Lucian…” I whimpered, the plea tangled in desperation.
But he bent down again, resuming the slow, maddening torture with his mouth. I fought it, fought the wave building inside me. The pleasure was unbearable in the best way. I was trembling, barely holding it back.
Just as I started to tip over the edge, he stopped again.
Another light smack. Just enough to shock my system. Just enough to make me ache harder.
“I told you not to come, Mara.”
Even that slight touch almost sent me over. He must’ve sensed it, because he didn’t do it again.
“You’re soaking wet,” he said, his voice lower now, darker. “You like this. You like being punished like this,
don’t you?”
My body shook uncontrollably, pulsing with need. I couldn’t speak, I could barely breathe. I was unraveling.
“Please,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “Lucian, please…. just give it to me.”
He tilted his head, smiling that infuriating half–smile.
“Will you be a bad girl again?”
I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want to be good. I was loving every second of this.
“Yes,” I whispered before I could think, and his grin deepened.
He ran his thumb slowly along my entrance, then slipped a finger inside. My head fell back, a moan breaking from me. The relief was instant, but not enough–I needed more. I moved against him, trying to draw him
deeper.
“Lucian,” I gasped, writhing beneath him, tugging at the restraints.
He added another finger and curled upward, brushing that perfect spot inside me. I cried out, raw and breathless, hips arching, chasing the high I was seconds from reaching.
Then he pulled out.
He held his fingers up, glistening. “This is how badly you want me.”
108 A Little Punishment
I couldn’t hold back the tears anymore, not from sadness, but from frustration and pure, desperate want
“Lucian,” I whispered. “Please. This is too much.”
And for the first time, the heat in his eyes softened.
He knew exactly what he was doing.
Thanks for the direction and for trusting me to guide this story.
“Imagine how my father felt when you dropped a twenty–three–year bomb on him without a care,” Lucian said,
voice low and taut.
I didn’t care. Not right now. Not with the way my body was burning.
“He deserved it,” I snapped back, and that was all it took.
His fingers returned, three this time, and it was everything. He thrust them deep and fast, while his free hand pressed down on my lower belly, holding me still as he worked me toward release with ruthless precision. I was so close I could barely think, teetering at the edge of bliss when, he stopped.
I cried out, tugging hard at the cuffs, frustration bubbling over: He just smiled, wicked and calm.
“I know you’re stubborn, Mara,” he said. “So I took precautions. Pure silver cuffs. Designed for mates like you.
Then he lowered his mouth again.
“I’m sorry, Lucian. I won’t do it again,” I gasped, not even sure what I was apologizing for–only that I needed release. Needed him.
He didn’t stop. Didn’t let up.
“Please,” I begged.
Finally “Come for me, Mara.”
And I did. My body broke apart, wave after wave crashing through me. I trembled as he continued until I couldn’t take any more. Then he released my legs. His eyes had shifted–bright gold, glowing. He was barely holding himself back.
He positioned himself between my thighs, hard and ready.
“I want you to always be bad, Mara,” he whispered, and entered me in one smooth, powerful thrust.
I gasped, my body welcoming him like he belonged there.
He moved like a man possessed, primal and focused, each thrust deep and punishing. Then he released my wrists and pulled me into him, guiding my hips, letting me move with him.
“I like bad girls,” he growled, flipping us over, giving me control. I rode him hard, overwhelmed by sensation. I lost count of the orgasms, lost track of everything but him, his body, his voice, the way he filled me completely.
Lucian pulled me back against him, our bodies grinding perfectly together, and I came again, undone. “Lucian…” I moaned, clutching him as my body convulsed.
“I’m here, baby,” he murmured, flipping me beneath him again. He moved faster now, harder, everything
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building until there was nothing but heat and sensation. My nerves were on fire, hypersensitive, every breath
a trigger.
When the final wave came, it was like nothing I’d ever felt. It consumed me–deep, long, electrifying.
“Ride it, baby,” he commanded, and I did, because I had no choice.
He followed, growling low in his throat as he released inside me, holding me tightly as the last tremors passed through us both.
He stayed there, wrapped around me, his c**k still inside me. And at some point–safe, sated, completely wrung out–I fell asleep beneath him.
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