When I'm With You: The Complete Novel (50 page)

“And you thought to prove me wrong?” she exclaimed heatedly.

“I bought this to make it clear to you that there is one person on this planet whom you will submit to,” he growled softly, running his hand over her ass. “And yes, there is one man you will allow to ride you. Who is that?”

For a moment, she just stared back at him, her heart beginning to pound in her ears.

“You,” she finally admitted softly.

Her gaze remained glued to the small, god-awful-sexy smile that shaped his lips. He walked over to the bedside chest and extricated another bottle of lubricant . . . and the last plug in the box.

The largest one.

Her muscles tightened instinctually around the plug already inserted. He set down the lubricant and the plug on the tabletop. She watched in avid lust as he methodically stripped off the rest of his clothes. Her mouth went dry at the profile vision of his muscular ass, his powerful thighs, and his erect penis, the heavy weight of it making it fall at a horizontal, slightly downward angle.

Her sexual hunger mounted exponentially.

He walked toward her, the bottle of lubricant and the last plug in his hand.

“You’re going to . . . fuck me in the ass, aren’t you?” she asked, flushing with embarrassment, even though it had seemed obvious to her all night that was precisely what he was preparing her for.

“Yes,” he said, flipping open the cap on the bottle of lubricant. “And you will submit to it. But first, I will ride your hot little pussy.”

A whimper of pure arousal leaked past her lips. The paradox of her feelings created an untenable friction. She
didn’t
want to be ridden. And yet . . . she
did
want to be ridden. By him. She wanted the rebellious, empty, hot-blooded wild child she’d been her whole life to find her limit. Held in check.

Held secure by Lucien.

He came toward her, his cock and balls swaying slightly between his thighs as he stalked. Her gaze flicked nervously to the largest plug in his hand. Her breath started to come choppily as Lucien moved behind her. She moaned as he removed the plug in her ass. She clenched her eyelids shut and clamped her jaw a moment later when he inserted the new lubricated butt plug. It hurt a little going in, but once it was fully inserted her ass throbbed around the rubber intruder.

She should have been humiliated, bending over with a large plug in her ass and wearing a corset with reins that Lucien would use to control her. Instead, she was almost overwhelmingly aroused. It grew worse when Lucien came next to her and picked up the crop from the bed. Her arousal was so acute, she looked away from his stare. His hand caught her chin, preventing her avoidance.

“There is no shame in submission,” he reminded her softly. “Only pleasure. And trust. And a desire to please.”

“I
do
want to please you.”

“I know you do. Even if you doubt. And that pleases me more than anything.”

She bit her lower lip, the anticipation cutting at her, as he walked behind her.

“Step up on the box,” he said, scooting the smooth shoe-polish box near her feet. She shifted and stepped onto the box, still leaning against the horizontal rail at the foot of the bed, putting her body at a more hospitable angle for Lucien to penetrate her.

He impaled her pussy with his cock in one long, forceful stroke. She shrieked at the burst of pressure and pleasure. She was filled to the brim—
over
filled—with the plug in her ass and Lucien plunged to the hilt in her vagina. He caressed a buttock as if to soothe her, even as he immediately began fucking her demandingly, his pelvis and balls slapping against her ass. The dual combination of pressure in her ass and pussy was almost too much for her to bear. And he wasn’t being gentle. He drove into her again and again, and Elise strove to keep herself steady for his onslaught.

“You’re so
hot,
” he grated out, and she gloried at the thick lust in his tone. He withdrew almost entirely, only the bulbous head of his cock submerged in her, and flicked the side of her ass with the crop.

“Ooh,” she squealed, and bucked her hips, sinking her pussy down over his rigid length and bobbing eagerly. He popped her ass harder for that with the leather slapper and gripped her hips in his powerful hold.

“I ride
you,
” he reminded her, his tone a strange mixture of harsh arousal and fond amusement.

“Yes. Yes, all right,” she conceded in a muffled voice.

This time, he gathered the reins in one hand. It was shockingly exciting, to have him control her movements with the taut reins as he fucked her, pulling back on her body until it smacked against his pelvis in a heady, naughty rhythm she loved and responded to wholeheartedly. Her nipples throbbed as her breasts bounced from his forceful thrusts. Her ass tightened around the plug, sending a dark thrill through her. As his pace increased, he popped her bottom with the crop, urging her on . . .

Oh yes
. She was made to ride free . . . but she was also made to submit to this man.
This
man.

She heard Lucien’s blistering curse a moment later as she shuddered in orgasm. She howled in protest when he jerked his cock out of her body.

“Irrepressible,” he muttered thickly as he pulled the butt plug out of her and she yelped at the interruption of her orgasm. She squeaked in surprise when he landed the crop several times on her ass and thighs. “I didn’t give you permission to come,” he said starkly.

“I couldn’t help it,” she moaned as he continued to swat her bottom and upper thighs, making her skin sting and smart.

He tossed the crop onto the bed. Her eyes widened when she felt him spread back her ass cheeks and present his lubricated, hard-as-steel cock to her ass a moment later. “How would you feel if I was continually telling you I couldn’t control it, that I couldn’t help myself?” he asked her darkly.

“I . . . I wouldn’t mind,” she replied defiantly. “I could take it.”

He pushed his cock into her ass and she squealed.

“You’re such a little fool if you think that,” he said before he firmed his hold on her hips and slowly penetrated her.

* * *

It was the purest, most distilled version of sexual torture he could ever imagine, let alone endure. Her ass was on fire, magnifying the burn in his blood and brain and balls, making him feel like he’d melt like candle wax from unadulterated lust.

It was difficult going. Even with all the preparation he’d given her, her ass resisted him. He spanked her bottom gently, but his tone was rough with arousal.

“Push back on me. It will help,” he demanded.

She did it, and of course, being Elise, she didn’t do it halfway. She plunged her bottom backward, making both of them groan in agony. Lucien knew enough, however, to recognize that her moan was not of the sexual variety.

“Are you all right?” he grated out. Holding still with half his cock submerged in her clamping channel was like telling himself not to draw air with deflated lungs.

“Yes,” he heard her moan. “It hurt for a moment, but no more.”

“Stay
still
this time, then.”

He slowly began to pump back and forth a scarce inch in and out of her while she moaned. When she began to bob her ass against him, he swatted her ass.

“Stay still, you little minx.” He reached around her and found her clit, rubbing the slick flesh strenuously. With his other hand, he kept her hip immobile and pushed his cock farther into her.

“Ohhh,” she cried out, sounding aghast. This time, Lucien could tell she experienced excitement, not pain. He growled savagely as he entered her to the hilt and his balls pressed tight against her buttocks. He rubbed her clit hard and felt her buckle. Catching her weight, he stood there holding her against him, his cock buried in her ass while she shuddered in orgasm.

She was going to kill him. No doubt about it.

When he could endure no more, he tightened the reins on her leather corset and spread his hand over a hip. “You have had your pleasure many times over. I will have mine now. Take me for a ride, little filly.”

He began to fuck her, using his hold on the reins and on her ass to control her completely.

“That’s right. Now you are submitting to me, aren’t you? And it feels
so
good,” he muttered through a snarl as he pounded into her.

Even though he mastered the movements, she still took him for the ride of a lifetime. She bounced her ass in perfect rhythm to his demanding strokes, her sharp cries of excitement every time his pelvis and balls slapped against her ass mounting his lust until he finally could take no more. He lifted her lower body, utterly controlling her, serving her to his cock again and again, ruthless in his possession. She shouted, but he couldn’t tell if her cry was from arousal, surprise, or discomfort. He was too busy peaking over the crest into nirvana.

He dove into it.

A roar erupted from his throat. He began to ejaculate deep inside her, howling as the sharp talons of pleasure ripped through him mercilessly.

Pain brought him back to himself. His biceps had locked in a rigid flexed position as he held Elise to him and climaxed. He hissed in discomfort as he released her, carefully setting her feet back down on the shoe-polish box. He remained bent over her for a moment, panting, trying desperately to get control of himself.

He was surprised that orgasm hadn’t ripped his head clean off him it had been so powerful.

“Are you all right?” he asked her. Yes, he’d told her he would take his pleasure of her and that she must accept it, but he hadn’t really planned on his need growing to the cataclysmic level that it had.

“Yes,” she murmured. She sounded okay—worn out . . . satiated. Had she come again, there at the end? He’d been too tied up in the twist of his own pleasure to tell. She moaned shakily when he withdrew his cock. He quickly unzipped the corset and encouraged her to stand. He took her weight, lifting her off the shoe-polish box and brushing his mouth against hers, his kiss every bit as tender as his earlier possession had been demanding. She trembled in his arms, feeling so warm, so feminine. It stunned him, that he could want to cherish her so much, soothe her, and yet still desired her to the point of near savagery.

He carried her to the bathroom where he set her down and removed her bracelets. She flipped off her heels.

Then he turned on the shower and pulled her in next to him. He gently washed her, as if he thought he could clean away the residue of his blazing, raw hunger, all along knowing it was a helpless cause. He would want her again soon enough, and all he could do—all he could ever do—was tame the savagery, regulate the taint inside him as best he could.

It was a daily mission. Elise made it an hourly one, a battle he fought minute by minute. But because it was her—because he cherished her—the fight was not only worthy, it was sanctifying to his spirit.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, they lay in bed, their limbs entwined, Elise’s head on his chest.

“Are you sure you are well?” he murmured, stroking her upper arm.

“I am so good,” she answered groggily. “But hungry.”

“Hungry?”

“I hardly ate anything at dinner. Emile will think I’m so unappreciative. If he thinks poorly of me, it’s all your fault,” she told him, pressing a small smile to his skin.

“I hardly think Emile and Richard are ones to judge the idiosyncrasies of two people . . . so involved with each other.”

Her warm breath seemed to cease at his pause.

“Lucien?”

“Yes,” he said, stroking her back now and once again wondering at her softness.

Another pause.

“Have you ever been in love?”

His caressing hand slowed.

“Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know. I mean . . . I wouldn’t know for sure if I was.”

“I’m no expert on the matter,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “But I do believe a person knows it, deep down, if they are. It’s just a matter of trusting that feeling, isn’t it?”

For the next minute, he couldn’t be sure if she slept or was thinking. She didn’t move as he caressed her, and her breathing was warm and even on his chest.

“Who was the man who died?” she asked suddenly, her clear voice startling him from his private ruminations about her earlier question.

“What?” he asked, bewildered.

“I heard Herr Shroeder tell you that someone was dead last night. He implied he’d been in prison, and you called him a sick fuck,” she mumbled, sounding very sleepy. “I just remembered that I wanted to ask you about it. I’d forgotten with everything you told me about your mother, and the terrace . . . and the restaurant,” she added lamely.

Her ear was pressed against his chest. He hoped she didn’t feel his increased heart rate.

“Remember I told you that a very important witness had informed Herr Shroeder that Helen Noble likely knew details about my mother’s identity and possible whereabouts?”

“Yes.”

“The man who died was that witness.”

“And he was in prison?” she asked, sounding a little less sleepy now.

“Yes.”

“What for?”

When he didn’t immediately respond, she lifted her head from his chest. “Lucien?”

“Rape.” He expelled the word bitterly. “Worse than rape.”

He felt her mounting concern swelling in the silence.

“Did that man . . .
rape
your biological mother?” she whispered.

He winced. He put his hand on the back of her head and guided her back down to his chest. He’d tried to prepare himself for it. But when he heard the thick dread in Elise’s voice just now, he knew he was a fool for thinking he could accustom himself to such an ugly truth.

“I’ll never know for certain, until I find her . . . or until I speak with Helen Noble.”

“Oh,
Lucien
—”

“Not now, Elise. Please,” he whispered hoarsely when she tried to lift her head again. “Let me enjoy this moment with you. Let’s not ruin it.”

He felt her open her lips, but perhaps she registered a hint of his pain, because her lips closed again next to his skin. He hugged her tighter, and she reciprocated. Something swelled inside him, thick and hot, when he felt how she squeezed him with an almost desperate strength.