Lachlan's Protégé

by V. F. Mason

  I look around the room that doesn’t have much except a table and wide bed with a lacy black canopy that leaves the ceiling above it open. “Is that a mirror up there?” Why would anyone need this? Does he lie with his women and…?

  Instead of answering me, he throws his jacket on the floor, unbuttons his vest, and tosses it so it lands in the same place. Then he snatches his tie from his neck and steps close to me while I instinctively take a step back, but he grabs me and spins me around, wrapping the material around my eyes, and instantly everything is blacked out.

  I try to wiggle free of his hold, but he manages to squeeze my wrists behind my back, and even though he murmurs softly, his voice holds danger. “Did you really think that you returning to him after me would go unpunished?” He splays his palm over my stomach, sliding it lower until he molds my core through the material, cupping it with his whole hand, and I gasp, my thighs clamping around it. But he chuckles, removing his touch. “No fucking way.” I hear the creak and swish of leather through belt loops before he pushes my hands in front of me and binds them together, so I can’t use them.

  His fingers skim over my nape as he pulls me back, my heart beating wildly in my chest, and then shifts my face to the side, craning my neck so our mouths can meet in a hard, long kiss that sends electricity to the tip of my toes. His mouth relentlessly takes mine, tongue playing inside as if warning me of what will come next. My lungs burn from his power to steal my breath, and liquid heat spreads through me, reminding me of a volcano about to erupt.

  He gives me one long swipe and then tugs on my lower lip, before moving his attention to my neck as he runs his nose over it, tickling my skin. Then he bites it, and I cry out, not expecting the pain that follows.

  “All those evenings and gatherings with you on his arm, smiling brightly for everyone to see. Ignoring me,” he rasps harshly, digging his fingers into my hip while sucking hard on my neck again, and I wince, trying to evade it, but it’s useless. “I couldn’t even talk to you without you running in a different direction.” He pushes me forward, his fingers tugging on my zipper, sliding it down, and then unties the strings at the back of my neck, releasing the halter-top. Immediately, cold hits me, pebbling my skin as the dress slowly drops, leaving me standing in my nude lacy panties. “You both live only because he never touched you. Your body is only mine, isn’t it, Valencia?” My brows furrow at his growl, alarms blaring in the back of my hazy mind, but I push them away, promising myself to dwell on it later.

  He moves to the other shoulder, repeating his action, but this time he pulls on my panties, tearing a moan from me as they rub against my clit, bringing discomfort and short relief, which disappears quickly and leaves an ache in its wake. “Tell me.”

  Sexual, it’s only sexual and means nothing. “Yes.” For tonight at least.

  Cold instantly slips into my bones when he steps away from me, but then he is guiding me somewhere, only to stop abruptly as his shoes bump the back of mine. “Look at you, all flushed and ready for the taking. I could fuck you against the wall now and you’d scratch my back, welcoming every thrust. Right, Valencia?” he prompts, bending me forward, and then I feel my breasts press against the bed, the movement arching my ass up to him, and his hand palms it, molding and then squeezing, earning himself a moan. “But that’s not how I will give it to you tonight. You deserve to be denied a little for all the fucking hell you put me through.” And that’s when he spanks me, his palm bouncing off my ass cheek, and I still.

  He freaking did what! “You—”

  He doesn’t let me finish, smacking me again, and this time it sends a jolt of awareness through me, somehow intensifying the ache brewing inside my heat, which only makes me greedier for him.

  He bites my ass and then sucks on the skin, probably leaving marks, but I don’t care.

  I don’t care about anything as long as he continues to do what he does.

  His lips skim up my spine to my back, leaving butterfly kisses along with light nips that awaken every nerve in my body and makes it even more attuned to his actions, anticipating them with each breath. “Lachlan—” Pleading coats my voice. I want him to end this and just give me what we both need.

  We can have foreplay later, once this fire inside me is sated, once I can think about anything but the ringing in my ears, which illuminates everything that leaves me greedy for more of him.

  For all that is him.

  “Your beautiful pale skin is magnificent with my handprint on it.” He slaps me again with one hand while the other moves my panties to the side and two fingers enter me. He twists them as I bite my lip, holding back a groan that threatens to erupt from the back of my throat. “All wet and ready for the taking. Too bad no one is providing it for now.” With each slap, his fingers continue to press inside me, and I rock on them, finding the friction that slowly soars me higher and higher. But then he takes it all away, flipping me on my back so that my entire body lies flat.

  I hear him shuffle with his clothes, and then his heat is back. He probably places his hands on either side of my head, as the bed moves and his hard-on rocks against my core, making me arch my back, but he clacks with his tongue. “Not yet, Valencia.”

  He is truly driving me insane tonight.

  His light beard rubs against my collarbone as he travels lower and nibbles on my nipples before sucking one at the same time as his fingers roll the other, reminding me how sensitive they are. He grazes it with his teeth, but soothes it with licks, highlighting my every reaction.

  He shifts to the other one, providing the same attention to it, and I long to touch him, skim my fingers over his rigid muscles that flex with every movement, but all I can do is lace my fingers together and get drunk on all the sensations he provokes. “Lachlan, please.” My body burns for him, demands his cock to soothe all the aches that play through me.

  No one but Lachlan will do, but he is not listening to me. He only chuckles, skimming his hands over my waist as he trails lower, kissing the underside of my breasts and most likely leaving a mark if the sting is anything to go by.

  Then he shifts lower, rubbing his face against my tight stomach that dips under his touch, and then I feel him nudge my thighs wider, practically flattening them on the bed. I groan in protest, but he just orders, “Come on, darling. We both know how flexible you are.”

  Pushing my tied hands against the headboard, I pant heavily, anticipating his next move. As his hands hold my hips wide open, his breath fanning my heat, I try to close my legs around him to urge him on so he finally can provide me what I so desperately seek… but I can’t.

  He runs his lips over the inside of my thigh as he inhales my scent, repeating the action with my other side, but this time he pulls on the skin, nipping on it lightly. I’m about to protest and order him to continue when his mouth lands on my pussy, swiping his tongue from bottom to the clit, and my ass shoots from the bed. My senses go into chaos, feeding on the fire rushing in my veins.

  He holds me still, thrusting his tongue in and out, as his thumb presses against my clit, adding to my need.

  Loud moans and groans echo in the room followed by Lachlan taking his fill, not stopping even when he allows me to circle my legs around him, my heels digging into his back. “No one tastes like you, Valencia.” He laps me again, but this time pushing his finger inside, grazing my walls.

  “I don’t want foreplay anymore.” This pleasure that borders on madness only frustrates me, because I can’t touch him, pull him to me, or make any demands. He rules in this bed, but can’t he give me what I want just once? “Please take me.”

  “Why should I?” he asks right before nipping my clit. I hiss, biting my lip so a loud moan won’t escape.

  “Please.” I don’t have any specific reason, so I might as well beg. All I want is for him to finally give me what I crave.

  Just when I think he will comply with my request, he shakes his head against my stomach then continues to slide his tongue inside, playing with my cor
e as if it is his personal instrument that he controls.

  Tongue, mouth, teeth, on repeat. Just when I’m about to come, he slows down, then builds the pressure again.

  When I’m about to lose my freaking mind, he rises up, unbinds my wrists, and I hear the foil packet being ripped open. Then I feel him nudge against me, sliding his cock up and down over my heat, spreading the wetness all over me. He murmurs, “Fucking finally,” and enters me, stretching me wide, not even giving me time to adjust to his cock as he drags it out and slides back in, matching my gasp with his as we both groan.

  He is right.

  Fucking finally.

  His mouth finds my breasts and laves them as he continues to rock inside me. My ragged breath fills the space between us as I put my hands around his neck, pulling him closer, scratching the back of his head with my nails, needing him to be as on edge as I am.

  Instantly, he removes the tie from my eyes and I blink, trying to get my vision back, but then he is all there is, gazing at me with desire and possessiveness that clearly knows no measure. “Who is fucking you, Valencia?” he asks, sucking on my lower lip while thrusting hard, moving us on the bed.

  “You.” I try to hike my leg over his hip, but instead he lifts it up and places it on his shoulder.

  “And my name is?”

  Barely thinking or breathing from the new angle that allows him to dwell even deeper, I rasp, “Lachlan.” Who else? No one in my life has made me experience what he does, complete devotion and passion that has nothing to do with love.

  Sweat coats our skin. As he glides up and down, I arch my back, feeling the sensation. That’s when he speeds up, giving me longer strokes, earning himself a hiss and moan at the same time, and then he retreats, leaving me empty. I whimper, hating it, but then he comes right back in, and I’m back there with him.

  I cry out and sink back on the bed. He continues to move, while he drills me with his stare and digs into the pillow, my core clamping tightly around him.

  A few more thrusts and he roars above me, biting on my neck and sending prickles through me.

  We both breathe heavily, wrapped in each other, and I don’t allow my common sense to come back to me.

  It has no place in this tight cocoon we’ve just created.

  He finds my mouth and we lock in a kiss that means more to me than it has ever been.

  Lachlan

  I turn on the water then step inside the shower stall. Immediately, cool water cascades down on me, but I don’t so much as flinch, letting the cold slip into every pore while hoping to squash the raging fire spreading inside me.

  I burn for Valencia.

  Her moans and sighs still echo in my ears; my hands still long to touch her perfect, soft skin as she forgets herself in pleasure that only I can provide for her.

  Being good in bed is not new to me. I’ve mastered the craft through the years, as it’s a perfect weapon to use whenever I feel like it. And sure as fuck, it helps to know how to get a woman off with minimal preparation, to find the blackness that illuminates everything and everyone.

  But feeling anything in that bed aside from forgetfulness from the nightmares? Yeah, that’s new, and I hate it.

  For the first time, I didn’t think about anything but the woman under me and how she felt. For the first time, my whole focus belonged to her and only her.

  For the first time, sex didn’t give me peacefulness or ironclad control. Instead, it allowed chaos to infiltrate me and demanded more.

  Punching the tiled wall, I fist my hands to the point of almost breaking my own fingers as I will all the memories to come back so I can remember the mission, the reason she is here.

  Valencia is nothing but a means to an end.

  I will tamp down any emotion she inspires that has nothing to do with me punishing her. I don’t understand them, because there is nothing spectacular about her. She represents everything I despise in women, yet whenever I see her, my mind chants one thing only.

  Mine.

  Yet the idea of hurting her, of surrounding her in my darkness, only fuels these desires longing to wipe her clean of the color white and forever bury her in the color black.

  It doesn’t matter though.

  Her end will still be the same.

  Sinners and saints don’t mix.

  Oh, we will see about that.

  Chapter Ten

  New York, New York

  January 2018

  Valencia

  Shifting slightly to the side, I dig my nose into the pillow while inhaling heavily, almost moaning in pleasure from the softness of the material that smells like the most expensive whiskey combined with cigarettes.

  The sheet pulled over me barely grazes my skin and cools me, which provides much-needed relief in the heated room. My body aches in all the right places, making it so I can barely move. My brows furrow as I search my mind for what happened.

  Wasn’t I out last night with Bella? And why does this mattress feel like I’m floating on a cloud and it can swallow me whole? I’ll willingly let it as it gives the softest of touches.

  I roll onto my back, throwing off the sheet and huffing loudly, and my eyes open only to widen as I gaze at myself in the mirror plastered to the ceiling that shows me in all my naked glory.

  And then last night comes rushing back at me, and with a gasp I sit up, looking around.

  I’m at Lachlan’s house!

  He is nowhere in sight. I hastily get up, picking up all the clothes scattered on the floor, and ignore the pain between my thighs and the marks of ownership he left all over my body. I rush to the bathroom, locking the door, although it’s really a laughable attempt.

  What the hell are you doing?

  I’m acting as if this guy kidnapped me and I’m finally awake to defend myself. Clearly he didn’t even bother to wake me up, so he doesn’t care what I do.

  I catch my reflection in the mirror and wince at my hair all over the place along with smeared mascara and red lipstick, and then I see hickeys and bruises marring my skin after our night of sex.

  If sin had a name, I’d probably be called it in this moment.

  Dropping onto the toilet seat, I palm my head, groaning while images from last night dance in my mind like a vivid erotic movie that has no end.

  His skillful hands on me, his kisses, his everything.

  I’ve never in my life thought I’d allow anyone to tie me up, but it’s ended up being the best freaking experience of my life.

  My pleasure, my moans, they probably heard me in other rooms.

  With this thought comes an overwhelming fear. I gulp, closing my eyes and trying my best to block away the woman who acted on her desire, who was uninhibited in her needs and was so selfish.

  Who slept with the wrong man.

  Before Lachlan, I never allowed anyone to touch me since Jason, even Max. Whenever he brought up the subject, he received only no. Plus he only asked—barely in passing—not trying any strong persuasions. Granted, I never had the desire to explore anything physical with him either, but that’s beside the point.

  Yet Lachlan broke my defenses in Italy and last night. I can’t resist this man no matter how much I fight it.

  How could I have done it? He is Victor’s business partner; he is Max’s partner for God’s sake. They don’t like him.

  Everyone is still upset with me over the engagement, and I go out and do this?

  How will I look anyone in the eyes? Face the consequences of my decision?

  None of the decisions I make on a whim have good endings.

  Getting up, I wash my face, hoping the soap will remove at least some traces of last night, and then I put on my dress, hating the heels that press on my soles, reminding me that I’ve overdone it with dancing and walking.

  But he so feverishly loved them last night, paying attention to every detail.

  I’ve made a mistake, but no one knows about it anyway. Lachlan isn’t the type of man who will go around and tell everyone about his
sex life. His absence this morning also indicates he doesn’t care what I do one way or the other, so he sated his interest in me and moved on.

  As should I.

  I emerge from the bathroom and notice the balcony door open with the black, lacy curtains blowing in different directions as if someone is out there. I tiptoe to it but find it empty. My eyes catch a table with a chessboard, and it looks like two people are playing since the black and white pawns have been moved.

  Although white seems to be losing, because the black board player has white’s knights. Will be a tough job for white to win.

  Who does he play with here?

  Shrugging, I lean on the banister and my eyes widen.

  The garden is magnificent, but it’s a freaking labyrinth. How will I ever escape it? And who has a garden that looks like a dystopian quest that no one can probably win.

  Finally, I find the gate where several security guards stand, but there is no other soul in sight. How will I get a cab?

  God, if only I had more experience with one-night stands, I wouldn’t have been in this situation!

  Going back into the room, I find my purse on the table and dig through it for my phone, which still has some charge, and press the Uber button. It shows no car in the vicinity, but I can call it once I’m outside this scary castle.

  I still remember the way from last night, so it shouldn’t be a problem. Before I go on my grand escape, I look, for the last time, at the bed that is still rumpled from our night of lovemaking, and part of me hates myself in this moment.

  Because all I long to do is get under the covers and bury myself in the smells of us. For the first time in years, I’ve found peace and complete surrender in Lachlan’s arms.

  Life though is not about pleasure and happiness, as I’ve found out.

  It’s about pain, punishment, and sorrow that never leaves, no matter how much you try to wash it away.

  “The fairytale has ended,” I whisper and close the door, forever imprinting passionate Lachlan Scott in my memory.