Chapter 13 Stark Entertainment
She made him grip the metal rod of the bed frame, the cold touch of the iron burning through his hands.
Her chest rose and fell with each breath,
The sensation of her hands controlling the pace, keeping him from touching her, only made the desire more intense, more consuming.
His hands were bound, but all he wanted was to grab her hips, press her down, and bury his face in her slick heat. The moment her wetness touched his lips, a deep growl rumbled from his chest.
His tongue licked a slow, teasing stroke before his lips wrapped around her clit, sucking, flicking, devouring. Her taste—sweet, intoxicating—filled his mouth, drowning him in her. His nose pressed against her, his hunger overtaking him as he licked and sucked, dragging her closer to the peak she was chasing.
Ellie moved, grinding against his mouth, her breathless moans echoing through the room. He let her control the pace—for now. But his tongue was relentless, his mouth unforgiving. Just when she was about to come undone, she lifted her hips. And then a few seconds later, she lowered herself again.
Sawyer arched up at once. His tongue licked and sucked, the loss of her taste for even a second making him ravenous. When she pulled away, his mouth followed, desperate to have her again.
His lips clamped around her clit, his tongue diving between her folds, thrusting deep before retreating, only to do it all over again. Meanwhile, his shaft throbbed, hard as a rock.
His tongue focused on her clit, his mouth hot and greedy, his flicking movements quick and merciless.
“Mmh… Ahhnnhhhh…” Ellie’s trembling voice barely slipped past her lips, her body shaking as pleasure consumed her.
Within moments, she shattered, her climax crashing over her. But Sawyer wasn’t done. His tongue slid down, lapping up her release, his hands left those rods and slipped beneath her hips, lifting her, arching her body into him. His tongue plunged inside her, his teeth grazing her sensitive flesh, his relentless licks making her tremble.
She came again, her legs locking around his neck, holding him in place. She tried to lift herself, but he only tightened his grip, devouring her deeper.
His teeth grazed her sensitive skin before he even realized it—his instincts slipping, his eyes darkening with something primal, something uncontrollable.
“Ahnnn…!” she cried out, her fingers gripping the bed.
He licked her harder, his tongue flicking over the sensitive nub before drawing it into his mouth. The more he tasted her, the more his arousal pulsed, his need growing unbearable.
“Hahh… hahhh… Sawyer…!” Her body trembled, her breath catching as overwhelming pleasure coiled tight within her.
She shattered against his mouth, only for another wave to crash over her as his tongue continued its merciless assault. Her body twisted, but his grip kept her firmly in place, refusing to let her escape the pleasure he inflicted.
For hours, he kept her on the edge, lost between torment and bliss. She wanted it to stop—but at the same time, she never wanted it to end. Every time his teeth scraped her skin, her body betrayed her, surrendering completely to him.
When he finally relented, letting her get off his face, his mouth and chin glistening with her essence. She lay next to him, breathless and boneless, her body still shuddering from the aftershocks.
Without warning, Sawyer pushed her back on the bed before following right after. She landed on her back with a gasp, and he loomed over her, his gaze dark and unreadable. His hands roamed her body—trailing from her knees to her thighs, up her waist, over her breasts, along her neck—before finally wrapping around her throat.
Then, he pressed close, one hand sliding beneath her head while the other traced its way down—finding her slick heat and sinking his fingers into her without hesitation.
“Ah—” her back arched, but she barely had the strength to lift herself. Instead, she threw an arm over her eyes, as if trying to shield herself from the intensity flooding her veins.
Sawyer’s gaze was fixed between her legs.
He thrust his fingers inside her, slow yet relentless, dragging pleasure from her trembling body. Her thighs quivered, trying to close, but he pried them open—keeping her pinned beneath him.
“Oh… god…” she whimpered, her legs quivering uncontrollably. His thick fingers were stretching her, filling her.
Growing impatient, he slid a hand beneath her knee, pulling her leg up toward her chest to expose her fully. With her body bent to his will, he drove his fingers deeper, deriving more pleasure out of her.
“Ahh… hahhh… please… please…” she begged, but her body had already betrayed her. Within moments, she shattered again, her release soaking his hand.
He continued stroking her more. His fingers plunged into her, claiming her pleasure over and over, as if he was determined to mold her body to his touch, making her cum once again so hard that she couldn’t breathe anymore.
Then finally, he shifted her—turning her onto her hands and knees. He plunged into her in one deep, hard thrust.
Her body tightened around him instantly, as if welcoming his intrusion inside her.
Then, he moved. Ruthless, relentless, each stroke sinking deeper, dragging pleasure and pain in equal measure. He rode her wildly, his muscles taut, his rod thick and throbbing as he drove into her over and over, stretching her to fit him perfectly. Within minutes, they both cum at the same time.
He wanted more.
Shifting, he hooked one of her legs over his shoulder, turning her onto her side as he sank into her again. The angle was unbearable—his shaft driving into the deepest parts of her, leaving her gasping, writhing, undone.
His fingers left possessive marks on her soft skin as he clasped her hips, his grip unrelenting as he took what he wanted. Her scent, her warmth, the way she trembled beneath him—everything about her made him ravenous.
Her release came in waves, soaking his member, but even as he followed after her, spilling deep inside, he didn’t stop.
Not until he had wrung every last drop of pleasure from her trembling body.
***
Sawyer handed Ellie a plate. "Eat that and finish. I’ll have Ada make better food for you and bring it in the evening." He patted her cheek softly, his touch lingering for just a moment before he turned to leave.
As he reached the door, it swung open, and Lily stepped in. She froze immediately upon seeing him, her eyes wide as she took in the situation. The unease on her face was almost imperceptible, but it didn’t escape Sawyer’s notice. She managed to force a small, polite smile.
"Hi, I’m Lily."
Sawyer didn’t spare her more than a quick glance, his voice cool and detached. "Hello. I’m her boyfriend."
Lily blinked, clearly taken aback. "Huh?"
Sawyer nodded once, offering nothing more, before turning and walking out without another word.
The moment the door clicked shut, Lily finally turned to Ellie, her mouth hanging open in sheer disbelief. She dropped the bag of necessities onto the bedside table and gaped at her.
“Goddamn it, Ellie. He is terrifying.”
Ellie blinked at her. “What? He’s not scary at all.”
Lily gave her an incredulous look. “Are you blind?! Did you even look into his eyes? Jesus Christ! Just from his face alone, I could tell he’s someone I’d never dare mess with.”
Ellie rolled her eyes. "You’re overreacting. He’s not scary at all. I don’t know what you’re talking about."
Lily stared at her like she’d lost her mind. That man exuded pure dominance—his presence, his clothes, even the way he carried himself screamed power and money. Just standing in the same room as him was enough to make her palms sweat, and yet Ellie, whose background was a mystery, wasn’t intimidated in the slightest? That was the real shock.
Before Lily could question her further, Ellie pulled out the black card Sawyer had given her and placed it in Lily’s hand. “This is for Uncle’s hospitalization for the next few weeks.”
Lily’s fingers curled around the card, but her brows knit together in concern. “What about you? Do you have any money on you?”
Ellie brushed off the concern with a casual wave. "Don’t worry about me. I’ll take care of myself. Just make sure Uncle Tony gets the best treatment. I want him to recover as fast as possible."
Lily let out a slow sigh and tucked the card into her purse. “I hope it’s soon. I can’t wait to see him talking and laughing again.”
Ellie smiled faintly, memories surfacing in her mind. The old man had saved her when she no longer wanted to live, when she was so badly burned that even breathing hurt. He had been nothing but kind, cracking jokes, taking care of her, treating her like family—even when she was just a stranger he had rescued. Lily had been Ellie’s nurse back then, and over time, the three of them had become a family bound not by blood, but by something even deeper.
And just when she finally had the chance to give him a better life, to help him pay off the debts he had taken on to treat her, to find her real family… fate had struck again. An accident had stolen his voice, his laughter, and nearly his life.
But Ellie never saw him as a burden.
A man like him deserved the whole world.
And if bringing him back to life required sacrificing hers, she was willing to do it without any hesitation.
***
Ellie was discharged soon after and returned to the Stark house.
Ada was overjoyed, and the maids grinned as they rushed to her, eagerly gossiping.
“You have no idea how terrifying it was without you!” one of them whispered with wide eyes.
“Yeah! SNS was furious all the time,” another added, shuddering. “He wouldn’t even let us breathe under this roof without losing his temper!”
Ellie laughed, shaking her head.
A few days later, once she had fully recovered, Ellie slipped into casual clothes, packed a set of stretchy ones in her bag, and headed to the address Jeremy had sent her.
The cab came to a stop. She stepped out, adjusting her bag on her shoulder, turned around, only to freeze in place.
Her mouth slowly fell open.
She was standing in front of Stark Entertainment.
Not just any building— the building . One of the most prestigious, high-security, and high-profile places in the country. The kind of place that people would die just to get a glimpse inside.
She stared at the massive glass structure blankly, and then shook her head. "This must be a misunderstanding," she muttered to herself, laughing lightly in disbelief. She quickly pulled out her phone and dialed Jeremy.
The call connected almost immediately.
"I’m here," she said. "Ninety-Fifth Street, GM Area. Where are you?"
“Great! You’re right on time,” Jeremy said cheerfully. “Stark Entertainment. Come inside. They’ll ask for an entry card at the entrance—I’m sending you a picture of it. Show that, then head to the seventh floor. Room twenty-eight. The team’s waiting for their new choreographer.”
Ellie’s hands trembled as she slowly turned to face the building again.
She wasn’t dreaming.
This wasn’t a misunderstanding.
Jeremy had actually called her to Sawyer’s company. Stark Entertainment—her boyfriend’s company.
To teach Sawyer’s people how to dance.
Was this going to be her last day on earth? Probably.
But then she thought about the amount Jeremy had promised her. The money was too good to refuse. Fear could take a backseat.
Biting her lip, she stared at the building a little longer, then convinced herself, ‘Sawyer Stark owns the biggest entertainment company in the country,’ she reasoned with herself. ‘He makes, like, a billion dollars a year… or a month… or whatever. Is he really making that much money by sitting in his office all the time? Obviously not.’
With that logic, she grinned, all her worries vanishing in an instant. ‘If he doesn’t see me, I was never here. Human not in sight, problem out of mind!’
Adjusting her bag, she marched toward the entrance, showed the digital entry card as Jeremy had instructed, and walked inside with newfound confidence.
***
A few hours later, Henry was updating Sawyer on the company’s recent affairs.
“Ms. Maya received an offer from Louis Vuitton,” he said. “We’re preparing to send her to Europe for the shoot next month. All arrangements have been made.”
Sawyer nodded slightly, skimming through his emails.
“We’ve also received a collaboration offer from Neste Entertainment. The team is still assessing the potential revenue, and we’ll submit a final report for approval in an hour."
Another nod.
Henry hesitated for a second before clearing his throat. “And lastly—” He took a deep breath and stepped forward, looking visibly panicked.
Sawyer’s fingers paused over his keyboard. “What?”
Henry's face slightly panicked—no, completely panicked. He looked like a man who had just been sent to his execution. But not reporting the news about his boss’s girlfriend would be far worse than death, so he swallowed his fear and stepped forward.
“Mr. Stark, I have news about Ms. Ellie.” Henry said, his voice unnaturally calm, betraying the absolute terror inside him.
Sawyer didn’t even look up. “Let her buy whatever she wants.”
Henry exhaled sharply. "It’s not about a purchase, Mr. Stark," he clarified quickly before fear could steal his voice. "Ms. Ellie is here at the company today."
Sawyer’s head snapped up. “Say that again.”
Henry wiped his damp palms against his suit. “She—uh—she joined as a choreographer. One of the seniors hired her on the spot. She’s in room twenty-eight, helping prepare for next week’s show.”
Before Henry even finished, Sawyer was already on his feet, his brows knitted in frustration as he strode toward the door.
Henry scrambled after him. “Mr. Stark—one more important thing!”
Sawyer shot him a brief glance, the kind that made grown men reconsider their life choices.
Henry gulped. “Ms. Ellie is in the same room as Ms. Olivia.”
He laughed nervously, as if that would lessen the impact of what he had just said. “Ms. Olivia is the main showstopper for an event since she’s being featured in the next business magazine issue. She was invited to walk the ramp for a designer with one of our actors.”
Sawyer halted in his tracks.
Slowly, he turned to Henry, his eyes dark and unreadable. “Henry.” His voice was dangerously low. “Should I fire you, or would you rather be shipped off to a war zone to fight a few battles before coming back with a working brain?”
Henry nearly cried.
But before he could plead for his life, Sawyer was already storming toward room twenty-eight, his coat hanging on his arm.
Henry chased after him, his voice rising in desperation. “I’m sorry, Mr. Stark! I only found out about Ms. Ellie’s arrival five minutes ago! I wasn’t sure if it was something important to inform you about, or if you already knew since she’s your girlfriend… but also, Ms. Olivia is your—”
One sharp look from Sawyer had Henry snapping his mouth shut instantly.
He retreated to the farthest corner of the elevator, suddenly feeling like the spacious lift had shrunk into a coffin. He turned his gaze to the ceiling and silently prayed to disappear.
But the gods weren’t on his side today—he remained very visible and very doomed.
As soon as the elevator doors opened, Sawyer strode toward the rehearsal hall. Just as he reached the door, he suddenly stopped. His hands instinctively went to his coat, smoothing out invisible wrinkles.
Then, he hesitated.
It was the first time Ellie had come to his office since they met. The first time she would see him in his professional world.
For some reason, that unsettled him. His breath came a little uneven.
He ran a hand through his hair, exhaled slowly, and turned to Henry with a raised brow. “How do I look?”
Henry blinked. “Mr. Stark?”
Sawyer’s lips twitched impatiently.
"Do I look fine?" Sawyer asked, his voice sharper this time.
“Uh… good, Mr. Stark. Very good.” Henry straightened and nodded rapidly, as if his life depended on it. Which, in a way, it did.
Sawyer cleared his throat, composed himself, and pushed open the door.
The hall was dimly lit, with only the center stage illuminated. But instead of graceful movements or coordinated choreography, there was chaos.
Onstage, ten backup dancers stood in black, while Olivia, dressed in a tight white outfit, was right in Ellie’s face, her voice sharp and condescending.
“I’m the main character in this show. Do you not get that?” Olivia snapped, arms crossed, lips curled in irritation. “It’s bad enough that you somehow ended up as my choreographer. Now, I told you—I want to swing off the stage with one hand and land at the main spot.”
Sawyer’s gaze instinctively drifted over Ellie.
Ellie exhaled slowly, her patience hanging by a thread. Ellie, wearing a short skirt with attached shorts and a fitted top, faced her, visibly tense. Hair pulled into a loose bun, face slightly flushed, she looked both exasperated and breathtakingly beautiful.
The way her tied-up hair revealed the curve of her neck. Even in the middle of an argument, she looked—
He clenched his jaw. Now was not the time for that thought.
Oblivious to his thoughts, Ellie kept her tone measured. “Ms. Whitlock, that’s impossible. You’re in a fitted outfit. How exactly do you plan to swing with a thin white cloth—in a dress?”
“I don’t care.” Olivia flipped her hair. “You’re the choreographer. Figure it out. In fact, you do it first and show me. If you pull it off, then I’ll decide if I want to do it."
Ellie stared at the ceiling, frustrated. The stunt wasn’t just risky—it was a death wish. One mistake and she’d be paralyzed for life.
But she needed this job. The pay was too good to walk away from, and the senior in charge had already warned her—Olivia was an important client. She couldn’t afford to offend her.
Trapped between logic and survival, Ellie clenched her jaw.
"Alright, fine!" she snapped, turning to the stage crew. "Dangle the cloth from the middle. I’ll do it."
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
The deep, icy voice cut through the hall like a knife.
Ellie stiffened. “Shit.”