Thirteen Years of Obsession

Mrs. Seraphina Lucian Voss

I ripped myself from Lucian’s grip, chest heaving, lips still tingling from that brutal kiss.

“You bastard,” I hissed. “You planned the arrest. You planned all of it. This was never about saving my family — it was about owning me.”

Lucian watched me with that unnerving calm, but his eyes burned with dark hunger. He adjusted his shirt cuff casually, as if he hadn’t just ground his hard c**k against me.

“Careful, little wife. Accusations make me want to punish you.”

Before I could retort, two staff members entered carrying garment bags and boxes.

“Sir, the fitting team is ready,” one said.

Lucian nodded. “Take her to the master suite. I want to approve every inch.”

They guided me down the hall. The master bedroom was massive — dominated by a huge black bed that screamed sin. The dress laid out on it was pure white silk, elegant yet dangerously seductive, with a neckline designed to display and a slit that would show leg with every step.

I changed behind a screen, the fabric sliding over my skin like a lover’s touch. It fit like it was made for his eyes only — hugging my breasts, waist, and hips perfectly.

When I stepped out, Lucian was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed.

His gaze devoured me slowly, lingering on my cleavage, the curve of my waist, the slit revealing my thigh.

“Turn,” he ordered.

I turned, feeling exposed and strangely powerful under his stare.

When I faced him again, his jaw was clenched, eyes blazing with raw lust.

“Perfect,” he growled. “Tomorrow the world will see you as mine. Tonight…” He pushed off the frame and stalked closer. “You sleep in my bed. Naked. Under me if I decide.”

My breath hitched. “The contract says proximity, not—”

“I decide what proximity means.” He stopped inches away, fingers tracing the neckline of the dress, dipping dangerously low between my breasts. “And right now, it means you’re going to lie there knowing I can take whatever I want.”

Heat flooded my core. I hated my body for reacting so strongly.

“You’re enjoying breaking me,” I whispered.

Lucian’s hand slid lower, cupping my breast through the silk, thumb brushing my n****e until it hardened.

“Not breaking you yet,” he murmured, voice rough. “Just teaching you who you belong to.”

His phone vibrated sharply.

He glanced at it, irritation flashing across his face.

“Isabella again.”

He silenced the call, but the moment was ruined.

“Go change back,” he commanded, stepping away. “And remember — if you touch yourself tonight thinking of my hands on you, I’ll know. And tomorrow night, after you say ‘I do,’ there will be no holding back.”

He left, the door clicking shut.

I sank onto the edge of the bed, body aching, mind spinning.

Tomorrow I would become Mrs. Lucian Voss.

Tonight, his touch still burned on my skin.

And God help me — a dark, traitorous part of me was already wondering how it would feel when he finally stopped playing and claimed me completely.