Chapter Six
Aurora
I should feel violated. Used. Ruined.
But I don’t.
There’s a fire under my skin I can’t smother. An ache between my legs. The guilt gnaws at me until I can’t tell where shame ends and craving begins. My thoughts are wrong, my body worse. It’s like he has branded me.
When I walk into the conservatory the next morning, everything’s changed. The woman at the front desk stands before I even reach her. After months of pretending like I don’t exist, she’s smiling at me like I’m her savior. The dancers I used to share space with glance up, whisper, then lower their eyes. No one bumps into me anymore. No one asks me to warm up with them. They move out of my way like I’m something they shouldn’t touch. I. Hate. It.
As I move toward the usual rehearsal room, the director appears out of nowhere and leads me to another studio at the far end of the hallway. My name is printed in silver on its door. Inside, the room is larger, with polished mirrors and a single piano in the corner.
The director looks me over — he knows what I’ve done in exchange for all of this. But God as my witness, I had no other choice.
“The boss wanted you to have space,” he says. His tone is too careful. “You’ll rehearse here from now on. Anything else you need, you tell me.”
I stare at him, waiting for the punchline. “Anything I need?”
“Yes. You have priority over all other schedules. You can use the studio whenever you wish. Costumes, music, new choreography — it’s all approved. Mr. Morelli made sure of it.”
My stomach twists.
“You’ve made the right decision,” he adds, almost nervously.
“Right.”
He leaves before I can say more. I sit on the bench, staring at my reflection — the same girl, but not the same at all. I try to stretch, to lose myself in the movements, but my body’s hopeless. It’s like I can’t dance unless he’s looking at me.
The company treats me like royalty now. But I know what I’m wearing.
It’s not a crown.
It’s a collar.
All my frustration comes to a boiling point, and I rush to him. By the time I reach his office, I’m shaking. I push the door open without knocking.
Lucian is behind his desk, sleeves rolled up, tie loosened. He looks like sin made into posture.
“Aurora, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
My hands curl into fists. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
He leans back, the chair creaking under his weight. “You’ll have to be more specific.”
“Everyone treats me like I’m—” The words stumble out of me. “Like I’m your possession.”
His mouth curves. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
I slam my palms on his desk. “I didn’t ask for this!”
“No,” he says, standing now, rounding the desk. “You didn’t ask. But you accepted.”
“You made me.”
He stops just in front of me. “No, little muse,” he murmurs. “I just gave you a choice. You didn’t like the consequences of the other one.”
“You think the contract gives you the right to—”
He cuts me off with a low laugh. “Own you? That’s exactly what it gives me. Besides, you walked into this room the first time like you belonged there. And I know that every time you look at me, you pretend you don’t feel what you do.”
“I don’t feel—”
“Don’t,” he hisses. “Don’t lie to me, Aurora. Not when your body already told me everything I needed to know.”
“You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to rewrite what happened.”
Silence stretches between us. I can feel the thrum of my pulse in my neck, the heat crawling up my spine. I want to scream. I want to hit him. I want to walk out. I do none of it.
Finally, I whisper, “You’re disgusting.”
“Probably,” he says, unbothered. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re mine.”
Suddenly, his hands grip my waist, pulling me against him with a force that leaves me breathless. He spins me around, pressing me firmly against the cool glass of his office window. The city sprawls beneath us, a blur of lights and movement, but I know they can’t see us.
“Look at them,” he growls. “They have no idea what’s happening up here. They have no idea how much of a slut you are for me.”
I press my hands against the glass, my breath fogging the surface. “I... I don’t want this,” I lie. I want to hate this, but my traitorous body doesn’t.
“You’re a terrible liar, Aurora.”
He squeezes my breasts so hard it hurts. I can feel his cock against my ass — it’s huge.
I bite my lip, mind racing. I want to resist, to push him away, but my body yearns for his touch. “I... I don’t want this,” I whisper.
“Liar,” he insists, his hands sliding up my thighs, hiking up my skirt. “You want this so bad you can taste it.”
He’s right, and I have no idea how I got here. His fingers find the edge of my panties, and he tears them off with a swift, brutal movement. I gasp, my body arching against the window.
“You’re so wet for me,” he growls as he teases my clit. “So fucking ready.”
“Please,” I whisper, not sure what I’m begging for.
In an instant, he drops to his knees and laps at my folds. He licks and sucks, his tongue diving deep, exploring every inch of me. No one has ever eaten me out like this before. I sound like a porn star, and despite myself, I’m almost grinding on his face.
He pulls back, breath ragged, pressing my face harder against the window. My nose squashed on the cold glass, my lips pursed. He then enters me with a brutal thrust. Pleasure and pain mix together in my bloodstream. This is so wrong, but his cock hits all the right spots.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groans into my neck. When his hips move even faster, slapping my clit gently at the same time, I lose the fight.
“Come for me, Aurora,” he orders. “Come all over my cock.”
I swear I see heaven as my orgasm washes over me, and Lucian follows, releasing inside me. Thank God I’m already on birth control. Nothing could complicate this situation more than a child right now.
He doesn’t even allow either of us a breather, spanking my ass over and over until it’s sore.
“You want me to eat your ass, don’t you? You want me to lick you everywhere, make you mine completely. Show you that every part of you tastes delicious to me.”
I hesitate, a mix of embarrassment and desire coursing through me. “I... I don’t know,” I stammer.
Before I can protest more, he’s back on his knees, his tongue on my back hole, licking and teasing my most intimate place.
“No,” I moan, but my hips seek more. “Please, don’t...”
How can something so wrong feel so fucking good? His release drips out of me, and he licks that too.
“So sweet and dirty, my perfect little muse.”
I can feel my clit throbbing, my pussy aching with need, and his tongue doesn’t neglect those sacred places. And that’s how I receive my second orgasm of the day, feeling absolutely filthy.