absentmoonlight56
"P-please, Lucien," Amara sobbed, her voice barely holding together as her trembling hands pushed against his chest. "Let me go... I-I'm begging you..."
Lucien didn't move away. Instead, his grip tightened, pulling her flush against his chest. One hand tangled in her hair, forcing her head back, exposing her neck like she was prey already caught.
"You still don't get it, do you?" he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "I've waited too long. I've watched too long. No one else touches what's mine."
His hands slid slowly, possessively, across her waist, up her sides, fingers burning through the thin fabric of her shirt. She squirmed, cried harder, but he only leaned in more - his breath hot against her skin.
"Stop crying, angel," he whispered darkly. "Or I'll give you something real to cry about."