Page 15 of Untouchable Queen
I scream his name, and I’m not sure if it was meant to sound like a protest, but it most certainly does not. It sounds like I’m begging as I come all over his cock. Sensual Italian hisses pastmy ear as I feel Lucian stiffen inside me, and a second later, hot cum floods my throbbing channel.
I tremble, all the strength seeping from my limbs as a deep sense of relief pounds through my veins. My walls throb, my clit fluttering against his magic fingers, and all the while, I take burst after burst of his seed deep inside me. He presses his soft lips to the curve of my neck as he rocks inside me, urging his cum deeper inside my depths. Then slowly, he eases out of me.
Keeping my temple pressed against the glass, I stay where he put me for a little longer, sucking in desperate lungfuls of air. After quickly rinsing off, Lucian steps from the shower and wraps a towel around his hips. His shoulders glisten with water as he casually combs his damp hair back from his face, checking the mirror to make sure it’s in place.
His eyes shift to mine, and he smiles when he catches me watching him. Then, with a wink, he turns to head back into the bedroom. Closing my eyes, I swallow hard in an attempt to suppress the shame that comes crashing down on me—shame for wanting my family’s mortal enemy, shame for finding him so attractive, so appealing, so irresistible.
It was so easy to hate him at a distance. From the safety of my own home, I could cast him as a villain, a monster with no heart, no emotion—only greed and envy for what my father built. Now, it doesn’t feel that simple. Because the thing I thought he was after from the start wasn’t his target at all. At least, that’s what he claims, and it sure as hell feels like I’m his sole focus when he willingly left me in control of my father’s Bratva. Honestly, since I agreed to marry him, Lucian’s entire focus has seemed to be…me. His words might be possessive and dominating, but his actions are so focused on my pleasure, it’s hard to keep my head in the game and my resistance intact.
My time would be better spent coming up with a plan to kill Lucian. But unlike Natasha, I hate the sight of blood. I’ve learnedhow to endure it over the years because our father wanted me to be strong. It’s necessary in our world to have nerves of steel.
But hurting someone?
The thought makes me physically ill—even if I should want Lucian dead for what he’s done.
I know my strengths. I’m strong when it comes to strategizing. I know how to play the game, but violence isn’t something I learned how to dole out personally. That’s Natasha’s area of expertise, and clearly, he has her mastered as easily as he outsmarted me.
Fighting back tears of frustration, I finish my shower and turn off the water. Then I wring out my hair before following Lucian’s lead. The tile is surprisingly warm beneath my feet—heated to avoid the shock, I imagine.
I quickly dry myself and wrap my plush white towel around me, securing the loose edge between my breasts before heading into the bedroom for my dress. It would seem Lucian’s already gone for the day.
In the quiet stillness of our empty bedroom, I release a heavy breath. I feel like I’m failing in every direction. Failing to protect my sister, failing to properly lead my men, failing to uphold the legacy my father left me…failing to resist my feelings for Lucian.
Because even if I know I shouldn’t, I can’t deny it any longer. I want my husband. With a passion I never knew I could feel for anyone.
7
LUCIAN
Leaning back in my plush leather swivel chair, I lace my fingers in front of my lips as I stare out the wall of windows that runs the length of my expansive fiftieth-floor office. Try as I might to focus, Tatiana is the only thing on my mind, her full curves and enticing movements. The woman oozes sensuality without even trying—and her sharp wit and even sharper tongue have me aching with need even though I’ve spent the majority of the past twelve hours inside of her.
My cock throbs just thinking about it. I’ve never wanted someone like I want Tatiana. And now that I’ve had a taste of her, that intense sense of craving has only gotten stronger.
“With your negotiations concerning the Sokolov Bratva settled, we’ll need a new direction to expand,” Aldo says delicately, shifting in his chair as he brings me back to the topic of our meeting.
I sigh heavily, turning my gaze on the lanky older consigliere. His graying temples and the round wire-rimmed glasses that perch on his nose give away his age, though his brown eyes are sharp and watchful. I know what he’s saying without saying it—allowing Tatiana to maintain control of her men and territoryhas weakened our position if we were hoping to expand, which I am. Our alliance is shaky at best. It’s going to take time to build the cooperation that I would have had if I had simply commandeered her men and forced the Bratva into line.
But I’ve pushed Tatiana far enough, I think. If her territory were all I cared about, it wouldn’t matter if I had a frigid wife who couldn’t stand to be in the same room as me. Plenty of mafia marriages have that exact dynamic and still manage to produce heirs. But I’m far too intrigued by my new wife, far more interested in her mind—and her body—than I am about claiming some throne in Manhattan. And since it would seem I’ve already put myself firmly on her list of enemies, I doubt invading her territory would do much to help this alliance.
“She’ll come around,” I state, waving off Aldo’s concern.
“And in the meantime? Did you intend to cut back on supply or allow the current increased risks of getting caught?” The question has a dry edge to it, but Aldo keeps a rigid grip on his tone to ensure it remains respectful.
“I’ll figure something out.” I know I’m pushing my luck, distributing closer to home because my new business with the Miami cartel means I have an overabundance of product. I can only hide so much of the influx, and a larger territory would allow for significantly more outlets. Not to mention, access to Manhattan would grant a direct line to the interstate highways. But I don’t need it—for now. Besides, with the Bratva so heavily invested in Manhattan, it would be a temporary fix. I just need to consider my other options. “We have the transport to ship abroad. Maybe we need to consider expanding outside of the city in a different direction.”
Aldo gives a slow nod of acknowledgment, his expression pensive.
A soft rap on the office door calls both our eyes in that direction.
“Yes?” I ask.
The door eases open to reveal Luca—one of my guards. “Sorry, boss. Saturo Takumi is asking to speak with you.”
The head of the yakuza?He has never done business with me, though our domains lie on either side of the East River, which technically makes us neighbors. I’m aware of his rocky history with the Sokolov Bratva and that his men are deadly kudo fighters who don’t need guns or knives to deliver a message. But I have no clue why he would want to speak with me. Frowning, I reach for the office phone, but Luca clears his throat.
“Uh, he’s here, boss. In the reception area.”
My guard looks about as puzzled as I feel. Saturo rarely ventures outside his Bronx territory, so his presence is even more unexpected than the fact that he would want to talk to me.
