by Mason, V. F.
He growls, his hands shifting to the inside of my thighs again, spreading me more for his demanding mouth as he continues the sweet torture, swiping his tongue through my folds, gliding it over my lips, and flicking my clit lightly. “Lucian, please.”
His mouth delivers one last long lick to my core before he steps back. My eyes snap open to watch him unzip his jeans, his hard-on coming into view as he circles his hand around it, squeezing it hard while the precum leaks from the thick head.
I groan as I remember having him in my mouth last night while he used it as he saw fit. I lick my lips as a sinister smile appears on his face, wicked in its nature.
He fists my dress, pulling me upward to my loud gasp, our mouths a hairsbreadth away from each other, and I smell myself on him. “You sucked me off once last night, mi amor, and you already crave it.” He glides his hands from the base to the tip, and I glance at it, my core clenching, begging to have his length inside me. His thumb wipes away the drop, and he lifts it up, smearing it on my lower lip before ordering, “Taste.” Rolling my tongue out, I scoop it in my mouth and moan at the salty taste. He slams his lips on mine, sharing our combined flavor, which makes us groan as we engage in a heated kiss, sending awareness through my entire system.
My hands drop behind me again, and he grips my legs hard as the tip of his cock moves up and down my slit, the head pushing inside and then he shifts his hips back, teasing me relentlessly. I bite his tongue as my legs drag him toward me, and he finally thrusts into me.
We are still for a second. He swallows the relieved sigh escaping me at the connection. As our kiss continues, my lungs burn for oxygen, but I cannot give it to them, wanting to be attached to him in every possible way.
For he is mine, and I’m his.
He rocks back, his length brushing over my walls, and then he slams in again, each move calculated and designed to drive me insane. I tear my mouth away, gulping for air and throwing my head back. Sweat coats my skin. My breasts jiggle at every hard thrust that shakes the desk underneath us. The pressure inside me builds and builds, tugging me closer and closer to that cliff.
When our gazes clash, I see his skin glisten under the light streaming from the window behind him, and his dark hair along with the hooded eyes only add to the need crushing me in heated waves, one harder than the next while his movements speed up, the rough slams pushing harder and harder against my most sensitive spot.
Almost there, almost, and my whimpers rock between us as I fall back against the desk. I arch my head and move my hips in time with him, meeting his harsh thrusts, now more frequent than before, and when he drifts his fingers to my clit, pinching it hard, I cry out, pleasure surrounding me everywhere and enveloping me in a tight bubble.
Three more thrusts and he spills inside me, marking me with his seed. He slips his hand under my waist and lifts me up to him, letting me hug him close while our hearts beat in a matching rhythm against each other, and for a second, I believe we are all alone in this world, made for each other, and nothing nor anyone can break this connection, no matter what happens in the future.
My man. My husband. My villain who captured a princess and dragged her into his darkness, making her addicted to him in ways she never anticipated but now cannot live without.
Our heavy breathing fills the space, my legs wrap tighter around him, and I whisper into his ear, “Do you want to christen something else in this house?”
His laughter echoes through the room, blanketing me in warmth and happiness, painting a brighter future despite all the secrets still present between us.
For if a villain covets his princess to the point of insanity and desires her so obsessively, what else could she possibly wish for?
Chapter Twelve
“An orphan dreams about one thing.
Family.
Unfortunately, sometimes family becomes a curse and not a blessing.
For their cruelty hurts way more than that of a stranger.”
Lucian
Location Unknown, United States
Lucian, 13 years old
A beeping sound echoes in the room, and I turn my head to the side, trying to avoid it, but the beeping only intensifies, dragging me from oblivion.
A groan slips past my lips as my eyes snap open only to shut again when the bright light from above blinds me, sending pain through my entire system.
Prickling, painful sensations surround my head, and I can almost see the invisible knives piercing my scalp. I groan, but this time louder only to cough into the mask attached to my face.
Is this a new torture designed by James to make me more compliant?
Ordering myself to snap out of my misery, I peel open my eyelids again, scrunching them a little while adjusting my vision, and frown when a white room comes into view.
Besides the huge window on my right, it has only the bed I’m lying on and machines next to me that speed up the annoying beeping with each of my movements.
I raise my hand to snatch the mask away, only to realize wires are attached to me; fear sweeps over me. I pull at the IV, wanting nothing to do with the dripping substance.
James warned me once that he could always use drugs so I would lie motionless and just let all these people hurt me.
I will not allow it.
It already has an effect on me!
A gasp snaps my attention, my head swinging to the left, and I see a woman wearing a green uniform march toward me as she quickly removes my mask. My entire throat feels as if a cat scratched it. “Shhh, it’s okay,” she whispers when I jerk under her touch, detesting any human contact as it always entails abuse. “No one is going to hurt you,” she promises, clicking on the monitor a few times. “Please stay calm. You need these vitamins.” She gently checks the IV, then grabs a plastic cup with a straw in it from the bedside table and lifts it to my mouth. “Small sips.” Her eyes are soft; she musters a smile my way, and that’s how I know this is a deception.
Because not once in my fucking life has anyone looked at me this way—as if I’m a real human being and not disposable trash.
A dog on a leash destined to always depend on its owner’s moods and commands.
Rolling my lips together, I shake my head, not letting her put anything in my mouth.
Demons have many faces on this earth so she can shove this smile of hers down her throat and leave.
Vitamins?
Yeah, right.
“Javier, come on. You need to take a few sips,” she urges me, and I blink in surprise at her uttering my name, which only cements the notion of this being James’s trick.
However, memories slam into me, hurting my brain so much I freeze and my hands fist as several things pop in my head one after another, almost making it impossible to focus on just one.
How Diego came and told me he would destroy James’s empire.
The keys he gave me and how I ran with all my might toward the basement, luckily never encountering anyone on my way, while gunfire along with screams reverberated through the place.
The kids watching me in awe and running right along with me to the exit, and how I hadn’t seen Andreas among them, although he wasn’t supposed to be busy that night.
How I decided to search for him and then…
Then I can’t fucking remember a thing.
“Javier,” the woman repeats gently places her hand on my chin. “My name is Dr. Amanda Smith. I won’t hurt you.”
A doctor?
Are we in a hospital?
I saw a few of those when we lived on the streets.
Did Diego’s plan succeed after all and we escaped James’s clutches?
Instant disappointment zips through me at the thought of not remembering it all, especially the face of a man who should have died in agony and instead probably just got shot.
A single fucking shot while he made my life a living hell.
“Javier.” The doctor says my name again, and I tentatively relax my jaw as the straw pushes through my chap
ped lips, the cold liquid bringing relief to my dry mouth. “Slowly, just a few sips.” I follow her instructions, and she puts the cup back on the table. “Good job, Javier.”
“How do you know my name?” I ask when she takes out a pen and then shines it into my eye as she lifts one lid up and repeats the action with the other.
“Your friend informed us.” She gets up, grabs a folder from beside the bed and writes something down on it. “You gave him and us all quite a scare.”
“Why?” Someone actually worried about me?
“The blast sent you flying several feet away, and as a result, you hit your head hard.” No wonder everything hurt, and that’s when I understand the heaviness in my head is also due to the bandage wrapped tightly around it. “Thankfully there’s no internal bleeding or damage. Just a minor wound that we had to stich up. You’re really lucky.”
A hollow chuckle escapes me along with desperation at her last statement.
Lucky.
That’s one word that could never be associated with me.
“Javier!” a familiar voice exclaims, and Andreas flies inside, wearing a shirt and sweatpants as he launches himself onto my bed and hugs me close. “You’re awake!” He leans back, and I wince a little as I notice how he seems relatively unscratched. “Do you remember anything?” An odd note coats his voice at this question, but when I shake my head, he visibly relaxes. “Don’t worry. I’ll fill you in.”
“Be careful, Andreas. I’ll leave you two, but the police will want to speak to you soon,” she warns us both before disappearing behind the door.
Sitting up, I hiss a little, and Andreas puts a pillow behind me so I’ll be more comfortable.
Although this bed is already the best and softest thing I’ve ever lain on. It almost swallows me whole! For a change, my muscles encounter softness rather than hard concrete.
“The police?”
Andreas nods, hopping higher on the bed. “Yeah. After you helped us all escape, there was a big blast, and the entire place blew up. The police arrived shortly after and took us all to the hospital. I heard them whisper something about foster care. The nightmare is finally over. They said all the bad guys died. Some nurses even cried seeing our wounds.” He waits a bit before adding, “Although they did mention missing kids databases, so who knows? Maybe someone searches for me out there.” He sighs, a dreamy expression settling over his features as happiness shines in his eyes.
It dims quickly though when I mutter, “You weren’t in the basement. Where were you?”
“With one of the clients,” he quickly replies, twisting his hands together, which always signals his nervousness.
“But you just said I helped you escape.”
He swallows harshly and barks a laugh, but it lacks any humor. “I escaped with the other kids. We found you and then ran to the door. After that you told us to run farther from the mansion to protect us from the blast.”
“James?”
“He was outside when it happened. Watched the entire thing crumble, crying his eyes out before someone shot him. He died there. The police even got his body.”
Anger and rage spread through me, polluting my mind, because indeed he had a quick death, but hopefully he fucking hurt when he watched his damned empire be destroyed.
A hard satisfaction for me, but this way no other child will have to experience his cruelty, and all of us can sleep well without being afraid.
Despite all this making sense, I can’t help but feel like Andreas is lying to me. We’ve been together for so long I recognize his bullshit easily.
But why would he lie? What is he trying to hide?
Before I can examine this thought further, Amanda and two men enter the room, but their appearances are vastly different.
The first one wears a police uniform, his head shaved, while his kind eyes glance at us, and he greets us. “Hello, boys.” We nod at them, and instinctively, Andreas grabs his legs, wraps his hands around his knees, and I sit up straighter ready to bolt or do something should their behavior present danger.
With adults, you never know when they’ll decide to strike.
My gaze moves to the man towering behind him, his dominant and masculine presence shrinking the room wrapped in the black suit he wears, and his dark hair falls to his shoulders.
His gray eyes flare in anger when he watches us; everything about him screams wealth and power. I freeze when his hawk-like eyes focus on me, as he scans me from head to toe, and something flashes on his face before indifference settles over it.
“Javier,” the officer addresses me as the doctor steps inside, her brows furrowing. “Would you please show us the birthmark on you shoulder?”
“I do not think that’s wise right now, Andrew,” Dr. Amanda grits through her teeth, but he shakes his head.
“We have to do it now.”
My mind swirls at this request, because how do they know about my birthmark?
The thing is in the shape of an apple, resting on my shoulder in a reddish-blue color.
Wanting for all this to be over, I slide the hospital gown from my shoulder and slightly turn around as police officer comes closer. I hear rustling in the background and glance over my shoulder to see him holding a picture next to it. “Yeah, that’s the one.” He then addresses the man when he goes to him, and I shift once again to watch them carefully, and Andreas does too. “Based on the birth certificate, photos, birthmark, blood type, and his estimated age, everything indicates that there is a huge chance he is your son.”
I still, barely breathing, while Andreas sucks air in, clearly as shocked by this information as me.
A son?
I have a father?
“We can try to search…”
Whatever the officer wants to say dies on his lips when my father raises his hand and speaks up for the first time, his deep voice sending chills down my spine. “No need. He’s the spitting image of me at that age. He’s my son. I have no doubts.”
He holds my stare as he says it, various emotions rushing through me at this admission.
Among them all, one is the most prominent.
Anger.
Deep, red-hazed anger sinks into my bones and tastes so bitter on my tongue that it tramples all the anger I’ve ever felt toward my captors and abusers.
Because of this man, all this happened to me.
A father is supposed to protect his child.
According to some, a hero whose one purpose requires him to shield his kids from any harm done to them.
Where was mine all this time?
How could he have allowed this to happen to me?
He’s rich.
Yet I was starved my whole life.
Where was my father all this time?
But more importantly… why did he find me now and what does he want?
* * *
The car drives through the open iron gates as I plaster myself firmer against the leather cushion, tugging at my coat, still not used to wearing so many clean clothes and shoes.
My father sits next to me, checking something on his watch, staying quiet, and I think he’s uttered around five to seven sentences ever since he dropped the bomb on me about his fatherhood.
After he signed some papers for me, they told me he would take me away since he had the rights over me. Despite my multiple injuries, none of them were serious, and the doctor wrote down all her recommendations as my father preferred the family physician to look after me.
Whatever the hell that meant.
Andreas stayed by my side all the time, mumbling how he was happy for me, although I saw traces of jealousy on his face, and fear too.
We’ve been together for so long that life apart seemed almost wrong. He was and still is my only friend after all.
Destiny decided otherwise though, and I’ve encountered a lot of powerful men to know that no matter my wishes, they will dictate their terms, and we’ll have to abide by them.
He cried a lot; to my astonishment,
he was still capable of it.
My tears dried out a long time ago.
That’s when my father stepped in, directing his questions at me for the first time.
He wanted to know if Andres was important to me, and when I nodded, he called someone and then informed my friend that soon a family would adopt him. Which thrilled my friend, but worried me as he’s so trusting, and some adults might take advantage of it.
I wasn’t worried about me. I knew I would survive no matter what, but Andreas was a whole different story.
I tried to convince my father to bring him with me since he was so rich, but he raised his splayed palm and that was the end of the discussion.
Then he took us to his private plane where everyone treated me like a prince, afraid to even look at me, and my father ordered me to change into normal clothes.
I welcomed the silk against my skin and comfortable clothes that were just the right size.
The plane ride was long, and I stayed glued to the window for half the journey, marveling at the sight of the white clouds floating in the bright blue sky, letting us see the world up so high.
Ticklish sensations rushed through me along with excitement. I ate the food the steward brought me, finishing my chicken in record time.
Still though, I kept my gaze on my father who spent the journey reading some stuff and signing documents, his wrists moving flawlessly over the paper.
I dozed off watching him and wondering what thoughts flew in his mind in that moment. My head shifting so hard woke me when we landed, and I was surprised to see a blanket thrown over me and a pillow under my ear.
However, when I looked at my father, he still read something, not paying any attention to me.
Even among all these men who came to James’s gatherings, I’ve never seen someone with so much class and composure. As if the world lay at his feet and he just had to wiggle his finger for anything he wishes.
A person might come and tell me he is a king, and I would believe them, just by how much power his sheer presence possesses.