Revealing the Monster: Playing with Monsters by Amelia Hutchins

Author:Amelia Hutchins [Hutchins, Amelia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Amelia Hutchins
Published: 2021-07-26T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-One

To be hurt by those who love us is a lesson. We should learn from it and seek more. Those who love us teach us the hardest lessons. But to never learn from them would be a tragedy. ~Lena

Soft music played inside the bedroom, drifting into the steam-filled bathroom. Lucian washed deliciously smelling soap over my body, ridding it of Lucifer’s scent. I wasn’t stupid or fooled into dropping my guard. I could feel the anger radiating off Lucian in soft waves, slithering over my flesh in a warning. He was pissed off that I’d been with Lucifer, but it wasn’t like I’d gone to him willingly.

I grabbed the rose-scented shampoo, lathering it into my hair while he stewed behind me. He hadn’t spoken, but I didn’t need words to know what he thought. I had no reason to ask him what his problem was, just like he didn’t need me to tell him that I hadn’t asked his permission because it wasn’t warranted.

“Finish up and rinse Lucifer’s touch from your body,” he growled, stepping out of the shower into the steam rolling out of the stall. “You’re being presented to the club tonight as my Queen, Lena. I won’t have my guests catching that asshole’s scent on my woman. Do you understand me?” His angry, sexily rasped voice caused my thighs to clench with need.

“I understand, Lucian,” I replied, rinsing the soap from my hair before adding conditioner. Turning, I peered at where he stood outside the shower.

Steam billowed around him, drifting off of his body to add to the steam already filling the room. It was so thick that I could barely make out his pretty midnight gaze. His head tilted forward and followed the suds slowly dripping over my breasts. Or maybe he was looking lower? I couldn’t be certain with the room holding more steam than a sauna.

I washed every inch of my skin, scrubbing it until it was raw to eradicate Lucifer’s cinnamon and brimstone scent. I pushed my fingers against my clit, and I groaned with need from a single brush against the swollen nub.

How many days had it been without reaching climax? I’d lost count after he’d fucked me so hard and made me shatter to oblivion with the orgasms when he’d reclaimed me.

Once again, he had ordered me not to come in that foreign tongue, which meant I spent days fucking him, never climaxing until permitted to find release. Not that it wasn’t hot, or that those orgasms, when given, weren’t some of the strongest ones of my entire life. In fact, I was beginning to crave them more than the ones that came in between when he’d released me from the compulsion to come freely.

I was a masochist at heart, and we both knew it. I loved when he took control and owned my desire. He played my body like a musician, learning a song for the first time. Every chord he played, every hymn he hummed, and every music note ended in pleasure, and I would sing right along with him.

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