Chapter 1: Dangerous Games
Isobel’s breath hitched as she perched on Lucas’s lap, her wrists bound tightly behind her back with a silk scarf. Her jeans were long discarded, leaving her vulnerable in just a thin pair of lace panties. Lucas’s fingers danced beneath the fabric, teasing her already wet pussy with a maddening precision that made her squirm. His other hand gripped her hip, holding her firmly in place as she writhed against his iron hold.
“Stop fighting, Iz,” Lucas purred into her ear, his voice a low, taunting growl. “You’re only making this harder on yourself. Or should I say... wetter?”
“Fuck you, Lucas,” Isobel spat, her voice trembling with a mix of fury and unwanted pleasure. Her body betrayed her, hips bucking involuntarily as his fingers circled her clit with expert ease. “You’re despicable—oh, God—” A moan ripped from her throat, loud and unhinged, as he pressed just the right spot.
“Despicable, huh?” Lucas chuckled, his lips brushing against her neck before he nibbled at her earlobe, sending shivers down her spine. “That’s not what your body’s saying, babe. You’re dripping for me. So cute when you’re all flustered and horny.”
Isobel’s mind screamed to fight, to curse him out, but the waves of pleasure crashing through her turned her words into incoherent gasps and whimpers. She hated him for this—hated how he knew exactly how to unravel her. Her thighs trembled, her breath coming in ragged pants as she felt the heat building inside her.
Beside them, Lucas’s phone buzzed to life on the coffee table, the screen lighting up with Demian’s name. Lucas smirked, reaching over to tap the speaker button without missing a beat in his torturous rhythm between her legs.
“Hey, man,” Lucas greeted casually, as if he wasn’t currently driving Isobel to the edge of madness. “What’s up?”
Demian’s voice crackled through the speaker, confused and tinged with concern. “Lucas? What’s that noise? Why do I hear... moaning?”
Isobel’s heart clenched, a sob breaking through her gasps as she struggled to speak. “Demian! Help—please, make him stop!” Her voice cracked, desperation and shame flooding her as tears pricked her eyes.
Lucas’s grip tightened on her hip, his fingers never slowing as he leaned closer to the phone. “Oh, don’t worry, D. She’s just... enjoying herself a little too much. Aren’t you, Iz?” He punctuated his taunt with a particularly wicked stroke, making her cry out, her body shuddering uncontrollably.
“Lucas, what the hell are you doing to her?!” Demian’s voice was a mix of horror and helplessness, the sound of his panic cutting through the haze of Isobel’s pleasure. “Let her go, you bastard!”
“Relax, man,” Lucas drawled, his tone dripping with smug amusement. “I’m just showing her a good time. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?” He pressed harder, his fingers relentless, and Isobel’s moans turned into a keening wail as the first orgasm ripped through her, her body arching against him, sweating and trembling.
“Demian, I’m—I’m sorry,” she sobbed, even as her traitorous body pulsed with aftershocks, Lucas’s touch pushing her toward another peak without mercy. She glared at Lucas through tear-streaked eyes, her voice a venomous hiss despite her breathless state. “You’re a sick fuck, Lucas. I’ll make you pay for this.”
“Oh, I’m counting on it,” Lucas whispered, his grin wicked as he felt her tighten around his fingers again, her defiance only fueling his desire. “But for now, let’s give Demian a real show, huh?”
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