Page 70 of His Kidnapped Queen
“Not physically.”
“And I won’t,” he says firmly, something earnest in his green eyes. “I will never physically harm you.”
“That leaves emotional harm, verbal harm…” I trail off when he sets his mouth in a hard line.
“If you tell me what I want to know, no harm will come to you.”
His voice is calm but he’s not looking at me, just washing down my arms and legs. The cloth gets close to my inner thigh and I try not to react but I flinch.
“Are you sore, pixie?” he asks quietly.
“A little.”
He hums. “I was too rough with you.”
“No,” I say quickly, unable to bear his pained expression. “I…I liked it.”
“Still. There’s a time to be rough and a time to be gentle, and given all you’ve been through…”
I can tell he’s blaming himself, punishing himself.
He’s not as cruel as I would have imagined. He’s not the monster that the dossier paints him as. And that’s why I’m so confused.
“All men can be monsters, darling,” my father always said.
But there’s more man in this monster than I could have ever anticipated.
When he cups my pussy, his thumb pressing gently against my clit, I breathe out a long moan. I rock my hips to get more friction, grasping onto his forearm with my right hand. He slides two fingers in, just to the knuckle, and it’s not enough.
“Please,” I whisper, and his gaze shoots to mine, only for an instant, before he shoves his two fingers deep, flexing them so that he drags the pads of his fingers along my g-spot.
I nearly jump out of the water but he keeps going, his thumb sliding across my clit with every thrust.
“That’s it, pixie. Come apart for me. Let go,” he croons as I keep rocking my hips desperately.
When I come, I cry out his name, shuddering all over. I can’t seem to stop trembling because he keeps up the pace, working his fingers in and out of me as I keep clenching around them.
He groans, close to my ear, brushing his lips across my temple. “Come on, sweetheart. Give me a few more.”
And just like he’s summoned more orgasms just by saying it, I keep coming, exploding around his fingers, growing so slick from his ministrations that the sounds in the room become lewd.
“I can’t,” I gasp when he keeps going.
He grunts. “You can, pixie. One more.”
I go limp other than shivering when I come one final time, and he finger fucks me through it for so long that I drag in a ragged breath.
“There you go,” he praises. “Good girl.”
My skin is heated all over and I expect him to just leave again, to say something cruel and go just like he did last time.
Instead, he lets out the water, just sitting by me and caressing my thigh as it swirls down the drain.
I’m panting, exhausted, and I don’t make a fuss when he takes a towel and scoops me up into his arms, covering me partially with it. He carries me into the bedroom, shifting me once to make sure the towel covers my bits.
He carries me right past Diego in the hall. Diego doesn’t even look up.
I keep waiting for Luca to leave, but he doesn’t. He lies me down in the bed, the sheets fresh, and dries me off before depositing the towel in the laundry basket. I’m too shocked to protest when he climbs into bed with me, drawing me into his arms.
