Exposed: Laid Bare (Laid Bare #1)(15)

But none of those things happened.

Instead, Lucien gathered me in his arms and carried me the rest of the way up the stairs. He was surprisingly gentle, and I felt as if I were in some twisted fairytale where he was my prince. A dark prince, yes, but a prince nonetheless.

With his shoulder, he pushed open the glass door at the top and stepped into the private club. I glanced around. It seemed this was an area that had not been used in some time, as heavy cloths lay draped over furnishings that mostly consisted of high-backed chairs, low tables, and a single long sofa.

Lucien walked over to the sofa and deposited me on the covered cushions. “Take off your dress,” he demanded as he kicked off his polished shoes.

I did as he requested, my dress coming off at the same instant he removed his suit jacket.

“Lay back,” he commanded.

“Okay,” I murmured.

I allowed my body to relax back into the plushy sofa. Surprisingly, the heavy cloth covering the piece of furniture was smooth, soft, and luxurious-feeling. I molded my almost-nude body into the cushions and giggled. As with the other times with Lucien, I felt like I was high. I suspected I was in some way—I was high on him. He had exerted his magic, or whatever, and I was drunk on him.

What weird powers he possessed.

I felt so giddy, so aroused. It was the strangest combination. I writhed on the sofa, allowing the soft covering to bunch up between my legs. Giggling, I collapsed to my stomach, and when my breasts rubbed against more luxurious material, I moaned.

With the fabric still bunched between my legs, Lucien wound his fingers in the softness and began to move the luxurious material back and forth against my throbbing clit. “Do you like that?” he asked.

I groaned out, “Yes,” and he continued, bringing me to a quick orgasm. I arched up as I came. I was naked, except for the stockings and garter, and Lucien’s eyes zoned in on the lingerie.

His gaze was hungry, and I seductively asked, “Should I take these off?”

I snapped the garter, the sting feeling good against my hypersensitive skin.

Lucien loosened his tie, his eyes never leaving me. “No,” he replied.

I was on my knees, and when I began to lower my hips to the sofa Lucien stopped me. “No. Keep that ass up,” he commanded.

“All right,” I said, complying.

Lucien unzipped his pants and positioned himself behind my kneeling and arched-for-him form. I kind of liked the imbalance in power—me helpless and basically naked, and him clothed and in control.

He grasped my hair and urged my face down into the cushions, his hard cock nudging at my slick core. “Do you want this?” he asked, pushing in only a fraction of his substantial length.

“Yes,” I replied, my voice muffled.

No sooner had the word left my mouth and Lucien was thrusting into me, pounding and pounding. This was so much harder than the other time we’d been together. But I loved it. And like the first time, I felt only pleasure.

But at some point, Lucien let up on whatever magic he was sending my way, and the pain of his primal, relentless thrusts became unbearable. Sensitive parts of me that had not healed from the first go-round with him throbbed. Scooting forward, I held onto the arm of the sofa and pulled away. But Lucien was right there on me.

Crying out, I tried again to get away. “Wait,” I pleaded.

He wrapped his hand in my auburn tresses and wrenched my head back. His cock was inside me to the hilt as he asked, “Is this too much?”

“Maybe,” I said, my breaths labored. “I think I might need a rest.”

Lucien chuckled. “Too bad, Miss Vaughn. There is no rest for the wicked.” His tone was unapologetic as he drove into me harder than ever, and added, “And you, my dear, are very wicked. Teasing me, taunting me. You’re going to take everything I give you tonight.”

He was so rigid, so swollen, and there was no escaping him. I should never have taunted him with the photo. With every frenzied thrust, I feared he might break me in two.

But then a strange thing happened.

I felt myself molding to him, savoring him. I let go, giving myself over to Lucien. And in that moment of succumbing, there was suddenly no more pain.

“See,” he murmured as he leaned over me and whispered in my ear, “it’s so much better, much easier for you, when you don’t fight me.”

“Yes,” I agreed.

And it was easier, better. Giving in to Lucien was the key. So I let go. I gave him my body, and I gave him my mind.

And he took all I gave.

Soon, I felt Lucien everywhere inside of me.

He banded his arms around me. He played with my breasts with one hand, while his other hand caressed my clit. And all the while, the hard f*cking continued. Continued and continued, well into the night and straight into the morning. It was hours and hours of unparalleled ecstasy. There was no more discomfort, only wave after wave of mind-blowing pleasure.

But then it all came to an end.

Before Lucien left me, lying on the covered sofa, naked and exhausted, he whispered in my ear, “Happy New Year, Dahlia.”

“Happy New Year, Lucien,” I rasped, my voice but a ragged whisper.

He laughed.

And then he left.

But I knew I’d see him again, seeing as I still had the picture he wanted.





“What the hell, Dahlia? What in God’s name happened to you last night? I was searching all over, but I gave up, assuming you left.”