The Blood Contract
Chapter 113: I don’t know how to be gentle

Chapter 113: I don’t know how to be gentle

The room was quiet. Still. Shadows clung to the walls like silent witnesses to the storm brewing between them. The air hung heavy, thick with things unspoken and tension that buzzed just beneath the surface of their skin.

Serena stood there, the glass still in her hand, untouched. She hadn’t even realized she was holding it anymore. His question was swirling around in her head and she didn’t know how to respond to it.

Lucian stared at her, waiting for her answer, knowing from the look on her face that she was contemplating something.

"I don’t know where this... somewhere in between is or what it’s called," she said quietly, her voice almost a whisper as she looked down at the floor. "But I think I’ve gone past that level." Her fingers clenched slightly around the glass in her hand as she finally confessed it, swallowing down her nervousness like a bitter pill that refused to go down smoothly.

Lucian’s gaze didn’t waver. His eyes narrowed slightly, as though trying to pierce through the layers of her words, to dissect them, to test their truth.

"Are you saying that because of the bracelet," he asked, his voice calm but probing, "or do you really mean what you just said?"

Serena’s head lifted slowly, her eyes locking with his. There was no hesitation in them now, just a fragile sort of honesty that shimmered through her expression.

"Well... the bracelet is playing a huge part in stopping me from taking a sip of this drink," she admitted, her lips parting around the words with reluctant vulnerability. "But my words..." she paused, then exhaled deeply, "they’re coming from my heart."

Lucian stood still for a beat—long enough for the silence to feel like thunder between them. Then something in his expression shifted.

His heart became full instantly, and this time he didn’t question or fight it.

And finally, he moved. Not toward the door, but toward her.

"Would it help you loosen up if I tell you how I feel about you?" he asked, voice low.

"That might help," She nodded her head. But after the answer escaped her lips, she instantly regretted it. What if she wouldn’t like what he would say? After all he had once said she was not his type.

He took the glass gently from her hand and set it aside on the table.

"You want your first time to be with someone you at least like. But I want your first time, and every other time after that, to be with me, and me alone." Lucian finally confessed, and suddenly his hand was in her hair, his grip firm, fingers threading through until they were fisted at the back of her scalp, making her tilt her head and meet his eyes.

Her breath caught, interrupting the wave of satisfaction that had been bubbling in her heart at his confession. Her expectation had been disappointed and she was glad about it.

"Lucian—"

"I want you, Serena, all of you, and I’m having you tonight. But you need to understand something," he said, stepping closer until their bodies were flush. "I don’t know how to be gentle. However, I will try my best because you’ve never done this before."

His hand tightened in her hair and her breath hitched. She wasn’t sure if it was fear or desire thundering through her veins. Maybe both.

He leaned down, his lips brushing her ear. "It’s normal to get horny and desire some release. You should never feel ashamed for wanting that. You should never feel ashamed for coming to me and demanding I satisfy that hunger. I find it insanely hot if my woman initiates sex."

Serena didn’t speak. She couldn’t. Did he just call her his woman?

Her throat had closed, her body already aching with the memory of his touch. She lifted her chin higher, baring her neck.

Lucian growled low in his throat. A sound that vibrated through her bones.

His mouth claimed hers in a kiss that was slow and teasing at first, before graduating into nothing short of punishment—bruising, raw, and unapologetically possessive. There was no space for fear, no time for doubt. Only fire.

She whimpered as his hand slid from her hair to wrap around her throat. His fingers curved along her skin like they belonged there.

Her back hit the wall and her gasp was swallowed by his mouth. The press of his body was hot and hard, the friction maddening.

He pulled back just enough to look at her.

"You’re mine tonight," he said. "Every sound, every breath, every tremble—mine."

She shivered.

"I want you to remember it. I want you to feel it in every inch of your body."

His hand tightened slightly at her throat, not enough to cut off air—just enough to hold her still. To make her submit. The pressure was just right, just firm enough to draw a reaction from her body she didn’t even know she could give.

He kissed her again, deeper this time, and when she moaned into his mouth, he drank the sound in like it fueled him.

Then he lifted her like she weighed nothing.

She wrapped her legs around him instinctively, her hands finding his shoulders, clutching his shirt like it was the only thing keeping her grounded.

Lucian walked them to the bed, dropping her down gently but without ceremony. She bounced once on the mattress, breathless.

He pulled his shirt over his head in one smooth motion and tossed it to the floor. Her eyes followed the lines of muscle across his chest, the hard set of his jaw, the hunger in his eyes.

He leaned down over her, crawling slowly up her body like a man ready to consume.

His hand moved to her face, slid down her neck, then lower, over her chest, down her waist. He didn’t undress her yet. He was too focused on watching her reactions, reading every twitch, every gasp.

She moaned, hips arching off the bed. She didn’t know her body could respond like this. Didn’t know she could crave this intensity.

He dragged the tips of his fingers under the hem of her shirt, watching her pupils dilate.

He kissed her again, slower this time. Deeper. And as his hand worked at her clothes, he took his time, never rushing, never fumbling. He undressed her like she was the most exquisite thing he’d ever touched.

Every inch of skin he exposed, he kissed.

He didn’t just take. He worshipped and memorized.

By the time she was bare beneath him, Serena felt like she was coming undone from the inside out. Her body was pulsing with need, nerves raw and oversensitive.

Lucian stripped next, every movement fluid and practiced. He skillfully tore open a condom, which he already had in his pants pocket, and put it on.

She didn’t look away. His body was all angles and control and promise. And his eyes never left hers.

He hovered over her, kissing her neck, her collarbone, her chest, his tongue and teeth and lips dragging sounds out of her she didn’t know she could make.

When he slid between her thighs, her breath hitched. He was careful, intentional, gentle even. Just for that moment.

"If you want to stop—"

"Don’t stop," she breathed. "Please."

His gaze darkened further, something primal flashing behind his eyes.

He guided himself to her, and as he penetrated her slowly, his hand tightened around her throat.

She gasped, jaws clenching as she swallowed down the scream that was threatening to spill from her lips, the sensation overwhelming.

The stretch, the pressure at her neck, the intensity in his eyes, it all collided into a storm she couldn’t control.

He paused, letting her adjust, letting her body recognize him.

"Breathe," he said, loosening his grip.

She did.

He began to move, slow at first. Every thrust was measured, timed with the tension of his hand around her throat. His other hand explored her body, learning every response, every soft moan and desperate whimper.

"You feel like you were made for me," he growled against her ear.

She clung to him, body trembling, every nerve ending on fire.

He pressed his forehead to hers.

"You’re doing so well, Serena." He said, and the praise sent another shockwave through her.

His grip tightened again, and she felt her body inching closer to something explosive. Something she recognize.

"Come for me," he demanded, his voice dark and hoarse. "Come on. Let me feel it."

Her body convulsed, pleasure crashing through her in waves she couldn’t contain. She moaned his name, not caring how loud, not caring how desperate she sounded.

Lucian followed soon after, burying his face in her neck, groaning her name as he shattered inside her.

His hand remained at her throat, not applying any pressure and not trying to dominate her. It simply rested there with quiet purpose.

There was something deeply possessive in the way his fingers lingered against her skin, something intimate that made her feel seen and oddly safe all at once.