Chapter 37 The Cost Of Worship
- Lucien didn’t sleep.
- He lay on her sheets, slick with sweat and the scent of her still clinging to his skin like a brand. Her moans haunted the quiet. Her fingers had left red trails down his back, and her mouth had left bruises only he would know were there. His cock still twitched at the memory of how she’d taken him—body, breath, and pride.
- She’d used him.