Chapter 2

The hotel bar was dim, all low amber lights and velvet booths that swallowed sound. Rain lashed the floor-to-ceiling windows like it wanted in. I'd already downed three shots of tequila cheap, burning, perfect. The fourth sat in front of me, untouched for now, because my hands were shaking too hard to pick it up without spilling.

My dress clung to me like a second skin, soaked through from the run here. Black silk, the one I'd bought for the honeymoon. Low-cut, slit up the thigh. I'd worn it tonight to feel sexy for Ethan, to maybe spark something in him before the wedding. Joke's on me.

The bartender a pretty girl with pink hair slid a napkin under my glass.

"Rough night?" she asked, voice soft.

I laughed, bitter. "You could say that." I finally wrapped my fingers around the shot and tossed it back. Fire raced down my throat, settled hot in my belly. Better.

I scanned the room without really seeing it. Couples murmuring, a businessman nursing whiskey alone, a group of girls laughing too loud. No one looked twice at the drenched girl in the corner with mascara tracks down her cheeks. Good. I didn't want company. I just wanted to disappear into the haze until the pain dulled.

Except someone was watching me.

I felt it before I saw him prickling awareness at the back of my neck, like fingers ghosting over skin. My gaze drifted left, past the piano player, to the shadowed booth in the far corner.

There.

A man. Alone. Dark suit, no tie, top button undone. Mid-forties, maybe late forties silver threading through black hair at the temples, sharp jaw, eyes so dark they looked black even from here. He wasn't staring openly. He was... assessing. Like I was a puzzle he'd already half-solved.

Our eyes met.

He didn't smile. Didn't look away. Just held my gaze, steady, unblinking. Heat crawled up my spine despite the chill of wet fabric. I should have looked away first. I didn't.

Instead, I lifted my empty glass in a mock toast. Stupid. Reckless. His mouth curved just the barest hint of a smirk before he raised his own glass in return. Scotch, neat. Ice clinked softly.

My pulse kicked hard.

I turned back to the bar, cheeks burning. What the hell was I doing? Flirting? With a stranger? Hours after my life exploded?

But the tequila was working. The edges of everything softened. The humiliation still sat heavy in my chest, but it didn't hurt quite as sharply now. And that man... God, he looked like trouble. The kind I'd never let myself have.

I signaled for another shot.

Before it arrived, a low voice spoke behind me. "You're going to regret that fifth one."

I spun on the stool.

It was him.

Up close, he was even more devastating. Tall easily over six feet broad shoulders filling out the suit like it was tailored by God himself.

His cologne hit me first: dark, expensive, something with smoke and leather and sin. His eyes weren't black after all; they were deep midnight blue, flecked with gold when the light caught them.

He leaned one elbow on the bar beside me, casual, but there was nothing casual about the way he looked at me. Like he could see every tear-streaked thought in my head.

"I can handle my liquor," I said, voice steadier than I felt.

"Can you?" His voice was low, rough velvet. "Because you're shaking."

I glanced down. My hands were trembling on the bar top. Damn it.

He noticed. Of course he did.

Without asking, he slid onto the stool next to mine. Close enough that his knee brushed my thigh through the slit in my dress. Electricity snapped between us.

"Rough night?" he asked, echoing the bartender. But where her tone had been kind, his was... curious. Hungry, maybe.

"You could say that." I met his eyes again. No point in pretending. "My fiancé was fucking my best friend in our bed. Four days before the wedding."

He didn't flinch. Didn't offer platitudes. Just watched me for a long beat.

Then: "He's an idiot."

A surprised laugh burst out of me. "Yeah. He is."

The bartender set the new shot down. I reached for it. His hand closed gently but firmly around my wrist, stopping me.

My breath caught.

"Let it sit," he said. Not a request. "You're already drowning. Don't make it worse."

Heat flooded my face and lower. The way he said it, the quiet command in his voice... it did something to me. Something wrong and right all at once.

"Who are you?" I whispered.

"Lucian Kane." He released my wrist slowly, fingertips trailing fire along my skin. "And you are?"

"Lila." I swallowed. "Lila Harper."

"Lila." He said my name like he was tasting it. Like he liked the flavor. "Pretty name for a pretty girl who's about to make very bad decisions."

My core clenched at the words. Bad decisions. Yes. That's exactly what I wanted tonight.

"I'm already making them," I said, bolder than I'd ever been. "I came here to get drunk and forget. Maybe more."

His gaze dropped to my mouth, then lower lingering on the wet silk clinging to my breasts, the hard peaks of my nipples visible through the fabric. No bra. I hadn't worn one tonight, thinking Ethan would appreciate it.

He noticed. His jaw tightened, just a fraction.

"Careful what you ask for, princess," he murmured. "Some men don't play nice."

The word princess landed like a spark on dry tinder. My thighs pressed together instinctively.

"I don't want nice," I said, voice barely above a whisper. "I want to feel something. Anything. Other than... this." I gestured vaguely at my chest, where the ache still lived.

Lucian studied me for another long moment. Then he stood, offering his hand.

"Come with me."

It wasn't a question.

My heart slammed against my ribs. This was insane. I didn't know him. He could be dangerous. He probably was.

But right now, dangerous sounded better than empty.

I placed my hand in his.

His palm was warm, callused in places that spoke of control, of power. He tugged me gently off the stool. I swayed a little tequila and adrenaline and he steadied me with a hand at the small of my back. Possessive. Claiming.

We didn't speak as he led me through the bar, past curious glances, to the private elevator at the back. He swiped a black card. The doors slid open.

Inside, the space felt too small. Too intimate. He pressed the button for the penthouse floor. Of course.

As the doors closed, he turned to face me fully.

"Last chance to change your mind, princess."

I looked up at himreally looked. The faint lines at the corners of his eyes. The scar just under his jaw. The way his chest rose and fell a little faster now.

"I don't want to change my mind," I said.

His hand came up, cupping my jaw. Thumb brushing my bottom lip.

"Good girl."

The praise hit me like a drug. My knees weakened.

Then the elevator dinged.

He didn't wait. He scooped me up effortless, like I weighed nothing and carried me into the dark suite.

The door clicked shut behind us.

And just like that, I was his.

For tonight, at least.

Chapter 3

The penthouse door closed with a soft, final click that echoed in my chest like a gunshot.

Lucian didn't set me down right away. He carried me through the dark entryway, past shadowed marble and low recessed lighting that painted everything in gold and midnight. My wet dress stuck to my skin, cold silk against fever-hot flesh.

His arm under my thighs felt like iron steady, unyielding. I could feel the heat of his palm through the thin fabric, branding me where it rested possessively on my ass.

He didn't speak. He didn't need to. The silence between us was thick, electric, filled with everything we weren't saying yet.

We passed a wall of windows overlooking the storm-lashed city. Rain streaked the glass in violent silver lines. Lightning flashed once, illuminating his profile sharp jaw clenched, eyes fixed ahead like a predator who'd already decided on his prey.

My heart hammered so hard I was sure he could feel it against his chest.

He carried me straight into the bedroom.

No preamble. No polite offer of a drink or small talk. Just the wide, low bed dominating the space, black sheets already turned down like he'd known I was coming. Maybe he had. Men like him always seemed to know.

He lowered me to my feet at the foot of the bed, slow, deliberate. My ruined heels clicked against the hardwood. I swayed tequila, adrenaline, fear and his hands caught my hips, steadying me. Holding me exactly where he wanted me.

"Look at me," he said. Quiet command.

I lifted my eyes.

Up close in the dim light, Lucian Kane looked even more dangerous. The faint scar along his jaw caught the glow. His midnight-blue gaze pinned me in place, stripping me bare without touching a button.

"You're shaking again, princess."

"I'm... cold," I lied.

One dark brow lifted. "Liar."

His thumbs stroked once along my hipbones-slow, deliberate circles through wet silk. My breath hitched. Heat pooled low in my belly, sudden and shameful.

He stepped closer until our bodies almost touched. I could feel the heat rolling off him, smell that dark leather-and-smoke cologne mixed with clean male skin. My nipples tightened painfully against the clinging fabric.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured, voice rough velvet. "Say the word and I'll put you in a cab. You'll wake up tomorrow with nothing but a hangover and regret."

I swallowed hard. My tongue felt thick.

"I don't want to stop."

His eyes darkened. "Then you don't get to be shy. You don't get to hide. You asked to feel something. So you're going to feel every fucking thing I give you."

A whimper escaped me before I could stop it.

His mouth curved just that cruel, beautiful hint of a smirk.

"Good girl."

He reached behind me. The zipper of my dress rasped down in one smooth pull. Cold air kissed my spine. The wet silk peeled away from my skin like a second shed layer. He tugged it over my shoulders, down my arms, let it pool at my feet.

I stood there in nothing but black lace panties already damp and the remnants of ruined mascara.

Lucian stepped back half a pace. Looked.

Really looked.

His gaze dragged over me like a physical touch breasts heaving with every shallow breath, nipples dark and aching, stomach quivering, thighs pressed tight together to hide how wet I already was.

"Beautiful," he said, low. Almost reverent. Then darker: "And so fucking needy."

I flushed from chest to hairline.

He circled me slowly. A predator inspecting his catch. I felt his eyes on every inch my ass, the curve of my waist, the vulnerable nape of my neck where my hair clung in wet strands.

When he came back in front of me, he tipped my chin up with one finger.

"On your knees, princess."

My legs folded before my brain caught up. I sank down, knees hitting the plush rug. Eye level with the thick ridge straining against his suit pants.

My mouth watered. Shamefully. Instantly.

He didn't touch himself yet. Just watched me stare.

"You've never begged for cock before, have you?"

I shook my head, cheeks burning.

"Words, Lila."

"No," I whispered. "Never."

His hand slid into my hair, fingers threading through the damp strands. Not gentle. Not cruel. Just... owning.

"Then you're going to learn tonight."

He tugged once sharp enough to make me gasp. My scalp tingled. Fresh heat flooded between my legs.

"Unzip me."

My hands shook as I reached for his belt. Leather whispered through the loops. The buckle clinked. Then the zipper slow, torturous. I pulled it down tooth by tooth.

His cock sprang free thick, veined, already glistening at the tip. Bigger than Ethan's. Much bigger. The sight made my core clench hard around nothing.

Lucian wrapped his fist around the base, stroked once, slow. A bead of pre-cum welled up. My tongue darted out instinctively.

He chuckled low, dark. "Greedy little thing."

He guided the head to my lips. Smearing wetness across them like gloss.

"Open."

I did.

He didn't thrust. Not yet. Just fed me the tip slow, letting me feel the stretch of my mouth, the salty taste exploding on my tongue. I moaned around him without meaning to.

"That's it," he growled. "Suck."

I hollowed my cheeks, swirling my tongue, desperate to please. Desperate to feel wanted. His hand tightened in my hair, controlling the pace. Shallow at first teasing me with just the head then deeper. Deeper.

My throat fluttered. I gagged once. He didn't pull back. Just held me there, letting me adjust, letting tears prick my eyes again but different tears this time. Not heartbreak. Hunger.

"Good girl," he rasped. "Taking it so well for someone who's never begged before."

He pulled out with a wet pop, strings of saliva connecting us. I whimpered at the loss.

"Not yet," he said. "I'm not coming in your mouth tonight."

He hauled me up by the arms effortless and tossed me onto the bed. I landed on my back, legs splayed, chest heaving.

He shed his jacket. Shirt. Trousers. Every movement precise, controlled. When he was naked, the sight stole my breath muscled chest dusted with dark hair, abs carved, thighs powerful. Scars here and there. A man who'd lived hard and won every fight.

He crawled over me, caging me with his body. Heat poured off him. His cock dragged hot and heavy along my inner thigh

.

"Look at me," he ordered again.

I did.

He hooked two fingers in the lace of my panties and ripped them away like they offended him. Cool air hit my soaked folds. I cried out.

"So fucking wet," he murmured, almost to himself. "Dripping for a stranger who's about to ruin you."

His hand slid between my legs. Two fingers parted me, stroked once through the slickness light, teasing.

I bucked.

He pinned my hip down with his free hand. "Stay still."

I tried. God, I tried.

He circled my clit slow, maddening circles. Pressure building, coiling tight. My hips jerked anyway.

He stopped.

I whined.

"Beg," he said simply.

"Please," I gasped. "Please touch me."

"More."

"Please, Lucian-Daddy-" The word slipped out, unbidden. I froze.

His eyes flared. Dark, dangerous delight.

"Say it again."

"Daddy," I whispered, trembling. "Please... make me come."

He rewarded me with one hard, perfect stroke over my clit.

My back bowed off the bed.

Then he pinned both my wrists above my head with one massive hand.

"Keep your eyes on me," he growled. "You don't get to hide when you come."

His fingers plunged inside me two, thick, curling just right. His thumb worked my clit in ruthless circles.

Pleasure slammed into me like a freight train.

I screamed.

He didn't let up. Kept fucking me with his fingers, deep, relentless, while his mouth came down on my nipple sucking hard, teeth grazing.

The orgasm ripped through me violent, shattering. My whole body seized, thighs clamping around his hand, vision whiting out. I sobbed his name Daddy over and over like a prayer.

He worked me through it. Slowed only when I started shaking too hard to breathe.

When I finally collapsed, limp and wrecked, he withdrew his fingers. Brought them to my lips.

"Clean them."

I sucked obediently, tasting myself on him. Salty. Sweet. Mine.

He kissed me then first real kiss. Slow. Deep. Claiming. His tongue owned my mouth the way his fingers had owned my pussy.

When he pulled back, his voice was gravel.

"That was just the warm-up, princess."

He flipped me onto my stomach. Pulled my hips up. Spread me wide.

I felt the blunt head of him nudge my entrance.

"Last chance," he rasped against my ear. "Tell me to stop."

I pushed back instead greedy, desperate.

"Ruin me, Daddy."

He thrust in hard, deep, all at once.

I screamed again.

And the night really began.

Chapter 4

Lucian didn't give me time to breathe.

The first thrust buried him to the hilt thick, unrelenting, stretching me so wide I felt split open in the best, most terrifying way. My scream dissolved into a choked moan as my walls fluttered around him, trying to adjust, trying to take every brutal inch.

"Fuck," he growled against my ear, voice raw. "So tight. So fucking perfect."

He didn't move at first. Just stayed deep, letting me feel him throb inside me, letting my body learn the shape of him. My cheek pressed into the sheets, ass high, wrists still pinned in one of his massive hands behind my back now. The position left me helpless open, exposed, owned.

Then he pulled out almost all the way slow, torturous until just the head kissed my entrance.

I whimpered. Empty. Aching.

"Beg for it again, princess."

"Please" The word tore out of me, desperate. "Please, Daddy, fuck me. Hard. I need it."

He slammed back in.

My vision blurred. Pleasure-pain exploded through me, white-hot. He set a punishing rhythm deep, deliberate strokes that hit that spot inside me every single time. The wet slap of skin on skin filled the room, obscene and endless. My breasts bounced with each thrust, nipples grazing the sheets, sending sparks straight to my clit.

"You feel that?" he rasped, grinding deep on the next stroke, circling his hips so the base of him dragged over my swollen clit. "That's what a real man feels like. Not that pathetic excuse you almost married."

Tears leaked from the corners of my eyes not from pain, but from the overwhelming rush of finally being wanted. Taken. Used like I'd always secretly craved.

"Yes-God, yes-" I sobbed. "More. Please, more."

He released my wrists only to fist my hair, yanking my head back so my spine arched painfully sweet. His other hand cracked across my ass sharp, stinging.

I cried out, clenching hard around him.

"You like that," he said. Not a question. "Dirty little girl. Getting off on being spanked while I ruin this tight cunt."

Another smack. Harder. The heat bloomed across my skin, spreading straight to my core.

"Yes-Daddy-fuck-"

He fucked me faster now, relentless.

The bed creaked under us. My arms gave out; I collapsed forward onto my elbows, ass still high, taking every punishing thrust. His balls slapped against my clit with each drive home wet, rhythmic torture.

I was close again. Too soon. Too much.

"Don't you dare come yet," he ordered, voice like gravel. "Not until I say."

I whined, thighs trembling. "I can't..I'm gonna.."

He pulled out completely.

The sudden emptiness made me sob. "No..no, please"

He flipped me onto my back in one smooth motion. Spread my legs wide, hooked them over his shoulders. Looked down at me eyes blazing, cock glistening with my arousal.

"Eyes on me," he commanded. "Watch who's fucking you."

He thrust back in deeper angle this time. I screamed his name.

He leaned down, caging me, forearms braced beside my head. His mouth crashed over mine brutal, claiming. Tongue fucking my mouth in time with his cock. I tasted myself on him. Tasted us.

One hand slid between us. Rough thumb found my clit rubbing fast, merciless circles.

"Come," he growled against my lips. "Come all over Daddy's cock. Now."

The command shattered me.

The orgasm hit like a tidal wave harder than the first, violent, blinding. My whole body seized, back bowing off the mattress, walls pulsing around him in frantic waves. I screamed into his mouth, nails raking down his back, marking him.

He didn't stop.

Kept fucking me through it harder, faster chasing his own release now. His rhythm faltered, breaths turning ragged.

"Where do you want it, princess?" he rasped. "Tell me."

"Inside" The word flew out before I could think. "Please fill me up. I want to feel it."

A guttural groan ripped from his throat.

He slammed in one last time deep, deep and came with a roar. Hot pulses flooded me, thick and endless. I felt every spurt, felt him throb inside me as he marked me from the inside out.

He stayed buried, grinding slow, lazy circles, milking every last drop while I trembled beneath him.

When he finally pulled out, I whimpered at the loss. Warmth leaked from me his cum, mine, mixed. Filthy. Perfect.

He didn't let me wallow.

Lucian rolled to his side, pulling me against his chest. One arm banded around my waist, possessive. His free hand stroked down my spine surprisingly gentle now. Soothing the places he'd just wrecked.

"Breathe," he murmured against my hair. "You did so good."

I buried my face in his neck, inhaling smoke and leather and sex. My body still buzzed, oversensitive, wrecked in the best way. Tears slipped out again quiet this time. Relief. Release. Something dangerously close to safety.

He felt them. Thumb brushed them away.

"No crying unless it's because I'm making you come too hard," he said softly. Teasing, but tender underneath.

I laughed shaky, raw. "Too late."

He kissed my forehead. "Then cry all you want, princess. I've got you."

We lay like that for long minutes rain still pounding the windows, city lights flickering through the streaks. His heartbeat thumped steady under my cheek. Strong. Real.

Eventually he shifted, easing me onto my back again. He disappeared for a moment came back with a warm cloth. Cleaned me gently between my legs, careful with the tenderness there. Then himself.

When he slid back into bed, he pulled the sheets over us. Tucked me against him like I belonged there.

"Sleep," he said. Not a suggestion.

I wanted to argue wanted to ask what this was, what tomorrow looked like but exhaustion crashed over me like a wave.

My eyelids drooped.

Just before I slipped under, I whispered, "Thank you."

His arm tightened around me.

"Sleep, Lila."

I did.

But when morning came gray light filtering through the rain-streaked windows I woke alone.

The bed was cold on his side.

Panic clawed up my throat.

His clothes were gone. No note. No number.

Just the faint scent of him on the sheets, the delicious ache between my legs, and the crushing realization that last night might have been exactly what I'd asked for

A beautiful, filthy mistake.

I sat up, hugging my knees, staring at the empty space where he'd been.

And for the first time since walking in on Ethan and Mia, I didn't feel broken.

I felt... awake.

But also terrified.

Because I had no idea who Lucian Kane really was.

Or how to find him again.