Cruel Saints: Chapter 23

ELENA

There are none of the nerves I felt on our wedding day. Not after today. Not after almost losing Lucian.

Hunger. Unadulterated lust. Love. It’s all I see on Lucian’s face.

There’s no cruelty. No depravity. No hatred.

My mind is clouded with my desire for Lucian. His kisses have left me feeling lightheaded, breathless, and filled with need for more of him. His touch sets my skin alight, making tingles spread through my body. My abdomen aches at the feel of his erection rubbing against me.

God. God. God.

I’ve never experienced something so all-consuming.

“Lucian, your phone keeps ringing,” Aunt Ursula calls from outside the room, and it shatters the intimate moment.

Still, Lucian doesn’t let go of me. “I’ll be out in a couple of minutes. Let it go to voicemail,” he calls back.

The corner of his mouth lifts as he stares at me, his desire not diminishing at all from the interruption.

Again his thumb brushes over my nipple, making my abdomen tighten with a sweet ache.

The things he makes me feel – it’s indescribable. I’m intoxicated and greedy for more.

Another brush of his thumb and my back arches, pressing my breast harder into his palm and stealing a moan from me.

“Fuck.” Lucian steps back.

My feet drop to the floor, and I have to lean against the closet because there’s no strength in my legs.

“You need to leave, or I’m going to fuck you right now,” he says, his voice low and rough with the passion we just shared.

“Give me a second. My legs are numb,” I reply, still breathless from his touch and kisses.

“Christ.” He fists his hands, his eyes boring into mine.

It looks like he’s going to lose control any second, and then my eyes lower to his erection, tenting the fabric of his sweatpants.

Holy mother.

“Go, Elena. Now,” he grinds out through clenched teeth.

Rushing out of the room, I straighten my bra, shirt, and hair. At the top of the stairs, I pause to breathe through the desire I still feel.

My God, that was intense.

And it was only foreplay.

What’s it going to be like making love to Lucian?

I place a hand on my flushed cheek, trying to cool my skin.

Then my lips curve up because instead of fearing the moment we have sex, the thought only fills me with anticipation.

I take the stairs down and walk to the kitchen. Aunt Ursula glances at me, her hands not stopping from kneading the dough. “Is Lucian okay?”

I nod. “Yes, he just needed a moment.” I stop next to her. “What can I do?”

“You can beat the eggs. We need two.”

I get them from the fridge and crack them open in a bowl. Movement from the stairs catches my eye, and I watch as Lucian walks to the living room. He looks calm and collected as if he didn’t just set my body on fire.

My hands move automatically, unable to tear my eyes away from Lucian as he drops down on the couch, checking his messages.

I begin to beat the eggs, my attention not at all on what I’m doing.

I remember the first time I saw Lucian. The dark expression on his face as he adjusted his cuffs. When he demanded to know what I was doing at St. Monarch’s. The shooting lesson.

My eyes rake over Lucian’s attractive face, the scruff on his jaw, his broad shoulders, the veins snaking down his arms. His hands.

God, his hands felt so good on my body.

I draw my bottom lip between my teeth as our first kiss flashes through my mind. Him coming for me when he was attacked. When he climbed out of the car, and I witnessed him killing for the first time. The night I shared my darkest secret with him. The promise he made and kept.

Has it only been six weeks?

It feels longer.

Lucian glances at me as he presses dial on his phone, then he places the device against his ear. Our eyes lock, and there’s instant desire sparking between us.

“Dio! You’ve overbeaten the eggs,” Aunt Ursula exclaims. “They’re going to make clumps.”

“Oh, sorry,” I say, looking down at the mess I’ve made. “I’ll start over.” I get two new eggs and discard the overbeaten ones.

“Don’t worry, cara.” Aunt Ursula takes the bowl from me. “Go sit with Lucian. I can see your mind is elsewhere.”

My cheeks heat, but I take the out she’s giving me from cooking and walk to the living room. When I sit down next to Lucian, he picks up my left hand and presses a kiss to the ring on my finger.

“Don’t worry. Come back,” I hear him say, still on the call.

I snuggle up to his side and lean my head against his shoulder, our fingers linking. Closing my eyes, I listen to Lucian making one call after the other until my eyes drift shut.

 


 

LUCIAN

 

When I’m done with all the calls, I realize Elena’s asleep against my side.

I set the phone down on the arm of the chair and then carefully move her until her head rests on my lap. My fingers brush over the silky strands of her hair as I stare down at my beautiful wife.

The air fills with the delicious aroma of my aunt’s cooking as my thoughts turn to the attack.

I almost died the same way as my father.

I keep telling Elena and my aunt I’m okay, but I’m not. I’m fucking angry and desperate for revenge.

Umbria.

I’m going to fucking find you.

Elena stirs, and then her eyes flutter open. She turns onto her back and blinks up at me.

“Nice nap?” I ask, my tone giving away none of my feelings.

She nods then sits up. “Are you done with the calls?” she asks.

I nod, frustrated there isn’t more I can do to find Umbria.

Unable to sit still, I ask, “Want to go for a walk with me?”

“Sure.”

Rising to my feet, I take hold of Elena’s hand and walk to the sliding doors. I push it open, and as we step out onto the veranda, I lock my fingers with hers.

“Clear the area,” I say to Franco. “I want privacy.”

“Yes, sir,” Franco replies, and then he orders the men to withdraw out of the backyard.

We stroll in silence toward the fountain, the sound of the falling water comforting.

A soft smile forms around Elena’s lips, then she murmurs, “You were the answer to my prayer.”

I know she’s referring to the night I overheard her begging for mercy from a statue.

I give her hand a squeeze, and then she glances up at me. “So much has changed.”

“Yes, but you still can’t shoot for shit. We need to start with lessons again.” Just in case. If I take another hit with Elena nearby, I need to know she can handle a gun.

“We can start whenever you have time,” she says.

We keep walking until we reach the cliff. Elena lets out a sigh, her lips curved with a contented smile.

I pull her into my arms and looking down at her, I ask, “Are you happy, amore mio?”

Without hesitation, she nods. “Except for the incident. I hate the thought of you being in danger.”

“It’s the life we’ve been born into.”

She pulls a disgruntled face. “It doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“Of course not.” I lean down and press a quick kiss to her lips. “But, I have to admit I loved seeing you take charge. You also won’t hear me complain about the attention I got.”

My words make her grin. “You don’t need to get shot. I’ll give you attention whenever you want.”

“Yeah?” I lean down as she nods, and I press my mouth to hers. I tug at her lips, my tongue only touching hers for a moment before I pull back enough to capture her eyes. “What kind of attention are we talking about?” I murmur. I draw her bottom lip between my teeth then soothe it with my tongue.

“Any kind,” Elena breathes against my mouth.

“Be specific,” I demand while I move my hands to her ribs. My fingers curl into her, and I drink in the feel of how petite she feels under my touch.

Elena’s eyelashes lower, a dreamy expression on her face that makes me hard as fuck.

“I’ll kiss your bruises,” she says, and pushing up on her toes, her lips skim over my jaw, moving to my ear. When her teeth tug at my earlobe, I let out a growl, brimming with desire.

My hands move up, and I capture her breasts in a biting hold, unable to be gentle. My thumbs rub her nipples into tight peaks.

“And?” I ask, my voice hoarse with want.

Elena tugs at my earlobe again, then her breath fans over my skin. “I’ll massage the stress from your muscles.”

My lips curve up as I lower my mouth to her neck. I suck on her skin. “I like the sound of that.” My left hand slides down her curves, and when I palm her between the legs, I ask, “Like this?”

Lifting my head, I rub Elena softly while watching her face closely.

Her lips part, her cheeks flush, and then she nods. “Yes. Like that.”

My eyes are locked on hers as I move my hand up, and pulling the waistband back, I push my hand under the fabric. As my fingers brush over Elena’s soft curls, I place my other hand behind her head.

I spread her open, and a growl ripples from me as I touch her clit. Her hands fall to my chest, and she grabs hold of my shirt, fisting it tightly. Her eyes clouded with desire. Her lips parted and begging for my tongue

“I’m going to fuck you tonight.” The words rumble from my chest as I increase the pressure on her clit, rubbing her hard. I tug at her lips with my teeth. “I’m going to bury myself deep inside you.” She moans against my mouth, her grip on me tightening, her hips beginning to match my rhythm.

We’re lost in our own bubble of desire, standing on the cliff, with only the Mediterranean sea and nature as witnesses to the moment when I make my wife orgasm.

“Lucian,” she gasps, her features tightening with need.

I tease Elena’s opening, and it makes her lift on her tiptoes. She presses her face against my neck, her fingers gripping my shirt to the point I think she might tear it right from my body. “Dio.” Her breaths become sharp, and then I push my finger inside her, savoring how fucking tight she feels.

My cock strains. I fucking ache. Torture has never been this sweet as Elena trembles in my hold. Her body stiffens, and then her gasps and moans create a symphony I’ll never forget as she comes apart.

Her mouth finds mine, and I inhale her breaths and taste her moans. I greedily devour every single one as she rides out her orgasm.

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