Chapter 21: Hidden In Brutal Devotion: Chapter 18

Tia Moaning and whimpers stir me from my sleep, and I jolt with the realization that it’s Lucas. I scramble with the sheets, grateful I have on my sleep shorts and camisole. Glancing back at Cole, his lips part on a gentle snore. He lies exposed with his cock at half‍-‍mast, his arm behind his head, and his huge chest begging for me to lick him, but another wail causes my stomach to flip and my feet to move toward the door.

Lucas only sleeps next door. I give his open door a gentle knock and enter. Straight away, his cologne hits me, taunts me, drawing me in further.

He’s fighting in his bed, tangled in his sheets. His ripped body strains with pain. His face is contorted, and a coat of sweat mars his olive skin.

“Lucas.” I use a low voice as I approach his bed, conscious not to scare him further. “Lucas. Wake up.”

“Please. Don’t hurt me. I’m sorry. Please,” he whimpers into the pillow before he lets out a low moan of pain. “Ahhh.”

My heart jackknifes at his harrowing whimpers, pleading with someone not to hurt him.

“Please, stop.”

I crawl over the bed. “Lucas. Wake up.”

“Ahh.” His body spasms and freezes. “Please.”

I lean over him, this being the closest I’ve ever come to touching him. “Lucas?” I graze my hand over his face, trailing it gently over his clammy skin. His hand snaps onto my wrist from nowhere, and his eyes flare open. He throws me onto my back and mounts me so fast I don’t have time to speak.

A sharp prick digs into my flesh just below my face, and a few seconds later, I register he has a knife pressed under my chin.

His eyes are dark and despondent, like he’s not even seeing me at all. My throat dries in fear as he stares down at me with complete loathing in his eyes.

“Lu—” I struggle to swallow. “Lucas. It’s me, Tia.” I stroke my hand up his arm that’s caging me in.

In a split second, he seems to snap out of his trance but makes no motion to move. His eyes soften slightly, but the knife stays in place with my chin raised high.

“What are you doing in my room?”

“You . . . you were crying out in your sleep. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Why?”

“Because I care about you.”

He scoffs. “You care about me?”

“I see you, Lucas.” I wet my suddenly dry lips as I go on to explain. “We share something. A connection maybe?”

Lucas stares at me, not confirming or denying my analysis.

He shakes his head. “You don’t see the darkness in me, Tia.”

I tilt my head slightly, and his grip allows it. “I see it, and I match it, Lucas.” My eyes bore into his. “We’re drowning in it. But maybe . . .” I swallow hard, and his body tenses above me. “. . . maybe we can drown in our darkness together.”

His grip on the knife tightens, forcing me to freeze.

“I could kill you if I wanted to. Watch the blood pour from your pretty little face.”

His face is so close I can feel the heat from his breath, and my skin breaks out with tingles of awareness. He’s trying to scare me away, but I refuse to give in.

“You think I’m pretty?” I smirk, raising my chin further.

Lucas loosens the pinch of the knife ever so slightly. “You know I do.” His eyes plead with love, and the realization makes my heart skip a beat. He presses his body down slightly on mine, and I can feel his hardness against me. Wetness pools between my legs in response.

“Lucas.” I pant in need.

“I . . . I can’t.” His face is laced in disappointment, and my mind races to come to a solution for him. He wants to give in, but his mind won’t allow him. Whatever demons Lucas has, they’re controlling him, letting him be a shadow of a man he’s capable of becoming.

His hand shakes, but the knife stays just below my chin as his security. He can touch me‍—‍be close to me‍—‍because he has his knife. It allows him the small comfort in order for him to go as far as this.

“Cut me.”

Lucas’s eyebrows draw together in confusion.

“Use your knife and cut me, Lucas. I know you want to.” I force my hips up toward his erection, rubbing myself on him. His face transforms on a groan at the connection, and I swear it’s the most erotic sound I’ve ever heard.

A sharp pinch makes my eyes flare. His soft wet tongue licks away the wound and pushes his hips against mine with a moan, my own moan following behind his.

His knife nicks me again on my chin, and this time, his gentle mouth sucks at the tender flesh, his reaction a complete contrast to the action.

He pulls back and scans my face, his nostrils flaring as he gazes down at our bodies before he glances back up at me and draws me in with his face full of uncertainty. “I don’t know what to do, Tia.” My eyebrows furrow, unsure of what exactly he means. “I . . . I don’t know how to please you.”

My shoulders relax slightly on his admittance, and I ease into the mattress when he moves the knife beside us but still tight in his grasp.

“Can you touch me?” My tongue glides over my lip, his intensity penetrating my skin, my own barriers and insecurities. I’ve gone from not wanting a relationship at all to wanting two men.

“I don’t know how.” He gazes down my body, the feeling of his perusal electrifying. His shoulders are bunched tight, and his muscles flex, as though he’s holding himself back.

“Touch me.” I pant needily.

His hand trembles as it moves lightly over my chest, down and over my stomach so lightly, I barely know he’s touching me at all. He dips his fingers into the waistband of my sleep shorts, and I suck in a sharp breath and refrain from bucking into him eagerly. I want to give him time to explore on his own.

His fingers connect with the top of my pussy, and wetness seeps from me. He brushes over my clit, and my body coils tightly beneath him as he slips between my folds and down to my hole.

“Is this okay?” His tender words melt me both inside and out.

“Yes.” I breathe out through tight lips, desperate to scream for more.

He presses a finger inside me. “Oh fuck. You’re wet.” He withdraws, then pushes back in again, repeating the motion over and over.

I choke on a laugh. “I am.”

“You can hold on to me if you want.” His gray, stormy eyes find mine, and I smile in delight at him pushing his boundaries for me.

I take hold of his shoulders, his skin soft and smooth beneath my touch. I trail my palms over his skin as he begins to pump his finger in and out of my pussy before he withdraws and adds another.

“You feel so good, Tia.” I clench my pussy around his fingers. “Fuck, do that again.” I do as he instructs. “Fuck.” Lucas bites the inside of his mouth as though struggling to control himself. His thumb breezes over my clit, making my pussy ache to be filled.

“Oh god.” His eyes flick up to mine in concern. “It’s okay. Don’t stop.” I buck up into him, and he presses his thumb down harder, circling my clit.

“I’m going to come, Lucas.”

“Oh fuck. Come on my fingers, Tia. Let me feel you.” His hips buck against mine, pushing his fingers further inside me while his thumb presses down, igniting an explosion from deep inside me.

“Lucas! Fuck, fuck!” I scream out his name while he watches me in awe as I come on his fingers like he instructed.

“Such a good girl.” He peppers tender kisses down my neck. “Such a good girl, coating my fingers with your cum.”

I pant heavily against him. “Please. I need to please you, Lucas.”

Lucas pulls back sharply, removing his fingers from my shorts. He drags a ragged hand through his already messy hair, and I sit up on my elbows with concern that he’s retreating.

“It’s okay. I’m sorry.” I nibble my lip, not knowing what to say or do. I’ve pushed him too far, and the thought hits me in my stomach like a lead weight.

Lucas stares at me, sitting back on his haunches, his thick erection protruding through his boxer shorts tauntingly.

“Can you . . . Can just touch me or something?” he asks.

My pulse races, and my body relaxes as I give him a small nod. “Of course. Whatever you want.”

His pupils darken, and he moves to the end of the bed. Glancing nervously around the room, he slides down his boxer shorts without looking at me. His cock springs out with pre-cum oozing from the tip.

He moves to lie beside me with his head on the pillow. I take him in, scanning his perfectly sculpted body from head to toe. His thick cock almost touches his belly button. It’s smooth with a protruding vein I want to trail my tongue along.

Lucas takes hold of the knife; his grip on it sends his knuckles white. I trail my fingers down his face as he watches on, transfixed by my movement. My hand glides over the smooth planes of his abs, and his breath quickens. I sit up on the bed, staring down at him laid out for me. My hand breezes over his stomach and down toward his cock, making it jump.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” I urge him with sincerity.

“Don’t.” His eyes latch on to mine, trusting and vulnerable, needy and determined.

The air around us is thick and filled with desire. Want.

My hands circle his thick, smooth cock.

“Fuck.” His lips part in shock, and his Adam’s apple bobs in wonder. He chokes slightly. “Fuck. That’s good. Don’t stop.”

His chest heaves rapidly, and the heat from his body permeates from him. I work his cock up and down in a tight fist and move my free hand to his balls. As soon as my hand touches them, he arches into my touch with a hiss. “Holy shit, Tia.”

The look of complete ecstasy on his face makes my pussy throb with need. He’s gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous. I feel like he’s giving me a gift. Giving me something he refuses to share with others.

“Lucas,” I breathe out his name for no reason other than to appreciate it on my tongue, to marvel in the knowledge that it’s me who has control over his release.

“Fuck.” He bucks up into my hand, and I tighten my grip on him. I slide my hand up and down, occasionally grazing the pulsating head. It’s saturated in pre-cum and looks ready to blow at any second. “Oh fuck. It’s coming.”

His lips part, and his eyes widen as ropes of thick cum hit us. His stomach is covered, and my hand is dripping in his warmth. His gaze is resting on my hand as his cock begins to deflate.

“Shit. I should clean up.” He jumps up from the bed and rushes toward the bathroom before coming back with a warm washcloth. I watch him in confusion. “Give me your hand, Tia.”

I hold out my hand while he gently washes away his cum. Disappointment fills my stomach at the feeling that he’s washing away what he’s just done, what he’s achieved.

“What’s wrong?”

I glance away, unable to convey my feelings. He takes my chin in his forefingers and lifts my head to face him.

“I like you on me,” I admit weakly.

His lips turn up in a confident smirk. “That so?” I nod. “Rub it in, then. Make sure you smell of me, baby girl.”

Wetness pools between my thighs, leaving my sleep shorts sticky at the use of the new nickname for me. My eyes flare in delight, unable to conceal my arousal. Lucas’s pupils dilate, and his tongue grazes over his lips before he takes a step back and glances away, breaking the moment between us.

I don’t want to push him, not when he’s just opening up to me. To us.

He throws the cloth into the laundry bin, tugs on his boxers, and climbs into bed beside me. I pull the sheets up and lie on my side, facing him, unsure of whether to rest on him or simply touch him.

Lucas clears his throat. “You can lay your head on my chest if you want?” He turns his eyes toward me, a glimmer of uncertainty shining through them.

I shuffle forward and place my hand on his chest while resting my head over his thundering heart. He lies stoically still, almost frozen below me, before he picks up my hand and gently kisses it.

“I’ve wanted to touch you for so long. Longer than you can imagine.”

His words breeze over my head tenderly. I’ve only been here just over a week, so I find that hard to believe, but still, the notion of him wanting me so greatly wraps around my heart like a warm blanket.

“For so long,” he whispers as he strokes his fingers lovingly through my hair until my eyes feel heavy and my heart full.