Page 40 of Untouchable Queen
LUCIAN
Tatiana explodes around my cock, her pussy gripping me like a vise as she comes hard and fast—just like I am. Blood hammers in my rock-hard cock as I slam inside her, releasing my seed deep in her depths. I grunt, my hips jerking at the relief that makes stars explode behind my eyelids.
Coming inside Tatiana is the single best feeling I’ve ever known. Her hot channel fits me like a glove, warm and wet and inviting as it milks me, urging me to stay buried inside her. If her men weren’t waiting for her on the other side of that door, I’d be sorely tempted to take my time with her, to fuck her against every surface of this office until it’s properly christened and she’s a quivering pile of satiated desire.
But she has business to attend to, and I have men who need to be taught a lesson, so I slowly ease out of her depths and tuck my cock back inside my pants. Tatiana doesn’t stand up immediately. She keeps a firm grip on the desk, her cheek pressed to its surface as she catches her breath before she slowly straightens.
Cheeks flushed, she adjusts her panties, and I catch a glimpse of arousal coating the insides of her thighs before she presses them together and pulls her skirt back down around her knees.
“That,” I murmur, combing several stray locks back into place around her face so her men won’t be suspicious, “is the only kind of plans I have for you,tesoro.” Catching Tatiana’s gaze, I hold it as I run the back of my knuckles across her rosy cheek. “I want you. I want to make something with you. And if Saturo thinks he can mess with me, I’ll destroy him.” I press a light kiss on her lips, savoring their sweet taste before I pull away. “I’ll see you tonight. Don’t wait up. I’ll be late.”
Tatiana turns to watch me as I go, and I give her one last playful wink before shutting the door behind me. Her men, and mine, still stand in the same spots we left them, neither daring to speak. Natasha eyes me suspiciously before her eyes cast back to the office door, and a flash of anxiety crosses her face.
“Don’t worry. Your sister has thoroughly chastised me. I’m off to deal with the idiots who started this whole mess. You can inform Miss Quinn King that she can release my man back to me. I’ll deal with him from here.”
Natasha looks stricken, her gray eyes widening as if she doesn’t quite know what to make of that. But I know that taking care of my man must be asking a lot of Quinn King. It was a risky move, kidnapping Killian King’s sister months ago. But I had to try getting him to back out of the conflict between me and Tatiana. When I started something with the Sokolovs, my first major underestimation was their connection to the Kings. The rival families had been squabbling for so long, I never dreamed they would unite against me—and when my men went overboard sending Killian a message by hurting Quinn, I know it burned bridges with the Irish. I doubt it would help them to know I all but gift wrapped the men who took Quinn when I handed them over to Killian. I don’t appreciate men who claim loyalty butthen take matters into their own hands—and it would seem the problem is more dominant in my ranks than I had first realized. I don’t like having to teach my men lessons like I will today, but ruling with an iron grip is the best way to ensure true loyalty.
With a nod to Tatiana’s men, who continue to scowl at me, I signal my men and leave Nebo.
It’sdark outside my office as I massage my temples, leaning my elbows against my desk.
I don’t like disciplining my men. The blood washes off my hands a lot more slowly than the blood of my enemies. I can taste the fear in the air after making a spectacle of it—so hopefully no one will be stupid enough to do anything like it again. But the silence in a room after the punishment is done feels stifling, and giving a speech to make sure the message came across, weighs like lead in my stomach.
Still, the men needed to hear it. Two men nearly lost their lives over my men’s lack of decorum, and they almost reignited the conflict between my family and the Sokolovs in the process. I’m not sure where Tatiana stands—if she believes me that my deal with Saturo has nothing to do with her. I think I convinced her today in her office. Then again, sex seems to be the one thing we can always agree on.
I guess tonight I’ll know if our time in Italy managed to more permanently mend the rift between us. Maybe that’s why I’m hesitant to go home. Because if we’re back to the same space we were in when I took Tatiana away, I’m not sure what next step to take. I’m running out of ideas for how to win her over. Avoiding her won’t do anything to help the situation though, and with a heavy sigh, I rise from my chair and head toward my office door.
At nearly nine o’clock at night, traffic has started to die down, and the drive back to my compound is uneventful. Daniella kept a plate of veal parmesan warm in the oven for me, and rather than take it out to the dining room table, I plop down at the kitchen island to eat, like I’ve done countless nights before.
“Tatiana already ate?” I ask as Daniella fusses around the kitchen, keeping her hands busy while I eat.
She hesitates at my question, her expression momentarily concerned. “She said you instructed her not to wait for you.”
“I did,” I confirm, giving Daniella a reassuring nod. “I just haven’t seen her yet and wanted to make sure.”
She looks thoughtful as she dries her hands on a clean rag. “I take it whatever brought you home unexpectedly wasn’t a good thing,” she observes after a moment.
“What makes you say that?”
Face soft with understanding, Daniella gives me one of her knowing looks. “Have things fallen apart to the point that you’re avoiding each other now?”
“I’m not—” I cut myself off, sighing heavily. “Has she said anything? Does she talk to you at all?”
Daniella gives a slow shake of her head, her smile sympathetic. “Not anything personal, but she didn’t seem too happy when she informed me about dinner.” She takes my empty plate, her eyes flicking toward the door, as if to say I should go talk to my wife about it.
Sighing, I nod and wipe my mouth before tossing my napkin on the counter. “Thanks for dinner. It was delicious. As always.”
The lights are on in the bedroom, even though it’s after ten by the time I make it upstairs, and a sliver of hope embeds itself in my stomach at the possibility that Tatiana stayed up to wait for me, even though I told her not to.
As I open the door, I find her sitting at the vanity, dressed in a rose-colored silk robe, running a brush through her thick, wavylocks of auburn hair. Her eyes look like she’s a million miles away in her mind, but when she hears the door close behind me, they find me in the mirror’s reflection.
“My men weren’t happy that you took it upon yourself to handle your men.”
Her tone is cool, stiff even, and that tiny sliver of hope evaporates in my chest. The temporary truce between us seems to have come to an end with our return to New York. The progress I’d hoped we were making in Italy feels more like a dream now. But I’m not ready to give up, not after I got a glimpse of what we could be in Positano. I just need to find a way to bring that reality to our lives here.
“I don’t think handing them over would have helped in the long run. I did that with the Kings, and look where that got me. Your men already have a taste for Italian blood. I don’t need to keep encouraging it. Besides, my men need to know that I’m the one to fear if they step out of line. There’s no honor in losing your head to your own don, but dying at the hands of an enemy could seem noble—even if we’re supposed to be allies now.”
Tatiana sets her brush down and turns in her chair to face me. “They’re dead, then? The men who said you intend to betray me?”
