The vial sat in Lucas's hand, catching the blue light.
Chloe stared at it as if it might disappear if she looked long enough.
Her mind did not stay in the cave.
It went somewhere she had never admitted out loud.
Screens in the dark. Sound muted so no one in the Bennett estate would hear. A woman kneeling over a man, oil shining on her chest, palms sliding over her own breasts before she leaned down and used them on him. The wet smack of skin. The way the man groaned when she pressed closer. Chloe had watched those scenes more times than she wanted to count, thighs pressed together, telling herself it was only curiosity.
Now the same image sat in front of her, except the man was Lucas Vanderbilt, and the oil was real.
I can't. I shouldn't.
Her fingers twitched anyway.
Lucas didn't rush her. He held the vial out and waited, cock still heavy against his abdomen, eyes half-lidded as if her hesitation amused him.
"You asked what I wanted. That's it."
Chloe swallowed. The taste of him was still on her tongue — salty, bitter, lingering at the back of her throat. The soaked fabric between her legs clung with every small movement, cold at the edges and warm where her body heat had soaked it through.
The leftover smoke made her thoughts thick, but it was not only the smoke. The secret she had hidden for years was standing up inside her, hungry and shameless.
She reached out.
The glass was warm from his hand. The oil inside shifted when she took it, a slow golden slide that caught the lamp like liquid honey.
Lucas's gaze dropped to her chest, then back to her face.
"All of it. Don't start acting shy now."
Chloe's breath shook. She uncorked the vial. The scent rose between them — herbal, slick, faintly sweet, cutting through the cave's damp mineral smell. Her hands trembled as she tipped it.
Lucas clicked his tongue.
"Armor first."
Chloe stared at him.
"What?"
"You heard me." He nodded at the black-and-gold plates still clinging to her. "Keep the underwear. Just get that off."
Heat crawled up her throat. Reluctantly, she set the vial down and reached for the clasps of her battle dress. The wet metal and embroidered plates peeled away from her skin with a soft, clinging sound. Cold cave air rushed over the newly bared skin of her shoulders and stomach. The corset loosened. The cape slid from her shoulders and pooled on the stone floor with a heavy, damp thud.
What remained was not modest.
Black lace clung to her like a secret she had never meant anyone to see — a low-cut bralette that barely contained the full swell of her breasts, and matching panties cut high on her hips.
Damp skin shone between the straps. Goosebumps rose along her arms. Her waist looked even smaller above the generous curve of her hips and the full, peach-round shape of her ass. Long brown hair spilled over her bare shoulders, dripping cold water down her spine. In the blue light, she looked less like the Bennett jewel and more like the thing she watched in the dark.
Lucas let out a low whistle.
"Damn. So that's what you hide under all that gold." His eyes dragged over her without shame. "No wonder Alex keeps you on a leash."
Chloe's face burned. She crossed an arm over her chest, which only pushed her breasts higher against the lace. The fabric rasped against her nipples, already tight from the cold.
"Don't look at me like that."
"A little late for that." Lucas picked the vial up again and held it out. "Put it on."
Chloe took the vial.
Her hands were shaking hard enough that oil spilled over her fingers before it ever reached her skin — warm, slippery, clinging between her knuckles. She poured it onto her chest first because that was what the women in those videos always did, and because looking anywhere else meant looking at him.
The oil ran down the full curve of her breasts, shining under the blue lamp, slipping between the lace and her skin with a slow, ticklish drag. She spread it with both palms. Slow. Circling. The lace darkened where it soaked through and turned translucent. Her nipples tightened against the thin fabric until they showed clearly, each small point aching as the oil warmed on her skin.
A soft sound slipped from her throat.
Lucas felt his own excitement rise as he watched the oil drip from her chest, tracing the deep line between her breasts before disappearing into black lace. The scent of the oil mixed with river water and the faint musk already hanging in the sealed cave.
"Don't stop at the chest."
Chloe's face burned hotter. She dragged her hands lower, over her stomach, over the high cut of her panties, down the outside of her thighs. Oil streaked her skin in gold-blue lines and left her palms too slick to close. When she straightened, she looked like she had been painted for him. The cave air felt colder everywhere the oil had not touched.
"That's enough," Lucas said. His voice had gone lower. "Come here."
Chloe hesitated at the edge of the sleeping bag. Every instinct she had been raised with told her to put the armor back on and pretend none of this existed. The heating runes glowed faintly beneath the fabric, a dry warmth that did not reach the damp places on her skin.
She climbed over him anyway.
Her knees settled on either side of his hips. The sleeping bag rustled under her weight. The heat of him rose immediately between her thighs, thick and bare against the damp lace — a shock after the cold stone. She froze there, oil-slick breasts hanging over his chest, brown hair falling around both their faces. A drop of water from her hair landed on his collarbone and rolled down.
Lucas's hands found her waist. His palms were hot. Callused. They left warm prints on her oiled skin.
"Down."
Chloe lowered herself. The first contact made her gasp — her oiled chest pressed to his bare skin, the wet smack of it filling the cave. His cock slid along the soaked front of her panties, hot enough to make her hips twitch. The lace dragged, then stuck, then slid again.
"Lucas—"
"You started this," he murmured against her mouth. His breath was warm and faintly alcoholic. "Don't freeze now."
Chloe's forehead dropped to his. Her breath shook. Below, her body moved before her pride could stop it, sliding along him, oil and slickness mixing with a shameful squish. The heat between them built fast in the narrow space, trapped by stone and the blocked entrance.
The contact tore a moan from her throat.
"Ahh—"
Lucas's hips lifted without his permission, driving the thick length harder against her through the thin lace. The friction dragged over her swollen folds, then back again. Smack. Squish. Oil and her own wetness painted his shaft in a warm, shining line. The sleeping bag grew damp beneath her knees.
Chloe's hands braced on his chest. His skin was fever-hot under the oil. Her breasts slid against him with every small movement, nipples catching on his skin through the soaked bralette. Each catch sent a sharp pulse down her stomach.
"Haa… wait—"
Lucas didn't wait. One hand stayed on her waist. The other slid up her oiled back and into her hair, holding her there so she couldn't hide her face. His fingers tangled in the wet strands and tugged just enough to tilt her mouth toward him.
"Move slowly."
The smile on his mouth was amused, not kind.
Chloe's hips stuttered, then moved again — shorter, needier. The lace between them was useless now, pushed aside by heat and slickness until the head of him caught against her entrance and stayed there, not inside, just pressing. She felt the shape of him clearly: hot, blunt, too thick. A bead of warmth welled there and ran down the inside of her thigh.
She planted her hands beside his chest and lifted.
Lucas felt the full, oiled weight of her breasts drag up his body, leaving a wet trail from his stomach to his collarbone. The trail cooled instantly in the cave air. He guided her with his hands on her waist. When she reached the top, his cock slipped free of that tight, wet path. Cool cave air touched him for a second, sharp after her heat.
"Ahh—"
The moan broke out of her as the absence hit. Her breasts came almost to his face, shining, heavy, nipples stiff against the soaked lace. Warmth and the faint sweetness of the oil filled his breath. She dropped again at once.
Smack.
The impact sent oil spraying across his ribs. Lucas watched her, skeptical.
"You already know how this works, don't you?"
Chloe stiffened. The lie was already forming.
The truth got out first.
"Yes. I saw it in porn."
She cursed her own mouth.
Lucas chuckled. He couldn't help it. The sound filled the cave, low and disbelieving, while the Bennett heir sat oiled and flushed on top of him. A drop of oil slid from her chest onto his and cooled in a thin, shining line.
Chloe slapped his chest. Her palm was slippery. The smack was wet and weak.
"Stop it, please."
"Keep going."
Chloe started to move again.
Awkward at first. Clumsy. She was a first-time learner even if the idea was not new. Slower this time. Less like panic. More like she had decided not to think.
She lifted until only the head of him kissed the soaked lace, then sank again, dragging her oiled breasts down his chest in a long, wet line. The lace rasped. The oil warmed between their bodies until the cave itself smelled like crushed herbs and skin.
Smack.
Lucas's jaw tightened. Heat bloomed under his palms where they held her waist — not forcing, just keeping her from running. The cave air was thick with herbal oil, damp stone, and the musk of them both.
"It's not a crime to watch porn, you know."
"Please don't talk about it."
"Why?" His voice was low, amused. "Because no one knew… and the one person who knows now is your boyfriend's stepbrother?"
Chloe's ears burned. She didn't answer. She rolled her hips instead, and the head of his cock slipped under the edge of her panties. Hot skin met hotter skin. Not inside. Just there, pressed to her entrance, spreading her slightly with every pass. She felt the blunt, wet shape of him clearly. Her inner muscles fluttered around nothing.
"Nngh—"
Her thighs shook. Oil and her own slickness made a filthy sound between them. Squish. Smack. Squish. Each downward slide pushed him a fraction closer to where she had never let Alex go. Warmth ran down the inside of her thigh and cooled against the sleeping bag.
Lucas felt it.
He sat up enough to catch one oiled breast in his mouth through the lace. The fabric was salty and sweet, warm from her skin. His tongue dragged over the stiff nipple until the lace was soaked through and clinging.
Chloe's back arched.
"Ahh— Lucas—"
He sucked harder, then let the fabric snap back against her skin with a wet thwack. The cold air that followed made her shiver.
"It's only right I return the courtesy."
Chloe's fingers dug into his shoulders. Shame and heat were the same thing now. She lowered herself another fraction, a broken Ahh spilling out of her as she took more of him than she had planned. The stretch was only at the entrance, but it was enough to make her vision blur. Her pulse hammered in her throat, in her wrists, between her legs.
What the hell did I get myself into?
Then the pace broke.
Chloe stopped lifting all the way. She started grinding — short, messy strokes that smeared precum from both of them along the soaked lace. Her breath went ragged. Haa… haa… ahh— Lucas's hips rose to meet her. The wet sound filled the cave until it drowned the drip of water on stone. The blue lamp shook on the uneven floor, throwing their shadows across the cramped walls.
"Fuck—"
The word tore out of him. Precum welled at the head and painted her folds every time she dragged back, hot and slick. Chloe's own wetness ran down his shaft in warm, shining lines and dripped onto the sleeping bag with a faint pat. Her breasts bounced against his mouth. He bit the lace, then her skin, and she moaned so loud it echoed off the cave wall.
"Nngh— ahh— Lucas, I—"
She couldn't finish it. Her thighs clamped around him. Her hips lost the rhythm and found a worse one, faster, sloppier, chasing the heat instead of hiding from it. Lucas's grip tightened on her waist. His cock jerked against her entrance, thick and dripping, still not buried, already close. The oil on her chest had gone thin and warm, smeared from her collarbone to his.
The blue lamp shook.
Oil, precum, and the last of her pride ran together between their bodies, warm and shameful on her thighs, cooling only when it reached the stone.