Chapter 12
AURORA
"Look at me."
Axel's voice is rough, commanding. I'm on my back, legs spread, and he's between them with his mouth doing things that make me see stars.
"Oh.., Axel—"
"I said, look at me."
I force my eyes open. His dark gaze pins me in place while his tongue circles my clit, slow and deliberate. Torturous.
"That's it," he murmurs against my skin. "Keep those eyes on me while I make you come. I want you to see what I’m doing to you."
His fingers slide inside me, curling to hit that perfect spot. I gasp, hips lifting off the bed.
"God, you’re so wet for me," he whispers. "So fucking perfect. Do you know how long I've wanted to taste you again? How many nights I've laid awake thinking about this?"
"Axel, please—"
"Yes…” He adds another finger, pumps harder. "I love it when you beg for me, Aurora, fucking love it, tell me what you want.”
"I need—I need to come—"
"Then come." His mouth seals over my clit, sucking hard while his fingers work me mercilessly. "Come on my tongue, Aurora. Let me taste it."
The orgasm slams into me. I scream his name, my whole body shaking—
And I wake up.
No.
I'm alone in my bed, thighs clenched together, underwear soaked through. My heart's racing, skin flushed and sweating.
It was a dream.
A dream so vivid I can still feel his mouth on me, hear his voice whispering filthy things.
What the actual fuck?!
I moan in frustration, pressing my hands to my face. I'm aching. Actually aching with need, throbbing between my legs so intensely it's painful.
This is pathetic.
I'm dreaming about my fiancé's father. Having sex dreams so real I wake up on the edge of orgasm, desperate and wanting.
The clock reads 2:47 AM.
I'm not getting back to sleep. Not like this. Not with this need burning through me and nowhere to put it.
I slip out of bed, pull on a robe over my nightgown. Maybe a walk will help. Fresh air. Clear my head.
The estate's quiet at this hour. I pad through hallways on bare feet, avoiding the squeaky floorboards I've memorized over the past two weeks.
The gardens are dark, lit only by scattered lanterns along the paths. I breathe in the night air, try to calm down.
It was just a dream. Just your brain playing tricks because you're stressed and hormonal and—
I see him.
Axel's sitting on a stone bench near the fountain, a cigarette between his fingers. He's still in his dress pants and shirt from the gala, tie gone, top buttons undone. Staring at nothing.
This must be a joke from the heavens.
Run. Turn around and leave before he sees you.
I take a step back.
A twig snaps under my foot.
His head whips toward me.
Shit.
"Aurora?" He stands. "What are you doing out here?"
"I could ask you the same thing."
He looks me up and down slowly. "Couldn't sleep."
"Me either."
Silence stretches between us. I should leave. Should go back to my room and pretend this never happened.
Instead, I step closer.
"You smoke?" I gesture to the cigarette.
"Not usually. Picked it up in prison. Breaks the monotony." He takes a drag. "Want one?"
"No. Bad for the baby."
The mention of the baby makes his expression shift. "Shit, right. Of course, I’m sorry."
More silence.
This is awkward. We're standing in a dark garden at three in the morning, and I'm barely dressed, and all I can think about is the dream. About his mouth on me. His hands.
Stop it.
"You should go back inside," he says quietly. "It's cold."
"I'm fine."
"Aurora—"
"Why did you dance with me tonight?" The question bursts out before I can stop it.
He goes still. "What?"
"At the gala. You cut in. Danced with me in front of everyone. Leo's going to ask questions. People noticed."
"I know."
"Then why did you do it?"
He takes another drag, blows out smoke. "Because I couldn't watch him touch you for one more second."
The honesty steals my breath.
"You can't—you can't keep doing things like that."
"I know."
"People are going to figure out something’s wrong."
"I know that too, and I don’t care, because something is wrong, Aurora, something is very wrong." He crushes the cigarette under his shoe. "I think about you."
Oh.
"Axel—"
"Every night. Every morning. During meetings with your father. During meals where I have to watch Leo paw at you." His voice is rough. "I can't sleep because all I can think about is you in that hotel room. In my penthouse. The sounds you made. The way you felt."
My mouth goes dry.
"I fucking hate myself for arranging this marriage," he continues. "For selling you to my bastard son before I knew who you were. But I don't see a way out that doesn't cause chaos. That doesn't destroy my friendship with your father. That doesn't start a war."
"There isn't a way out."
"I know." He steps closer. "But I still want you."
No. Don't say that.
"You can't want me."
"Too late."
"Axel, this is… everything's already fucked up. Acting on this will make it worse."
"I know."
"Then stop." My voice breaks. "Stop looking at me like that. Stop dancing with me. Stop giving me your mother's necklace. Just—stop."
"Can you stop?" He's right in front of me now. "Can you stop thinking about me? Stop wanting me?"
No.
"Yes," I lie.
"All lies." His eyes bore into mine. "You look at me the same way I look at you. Like you're dying for it. Like you'd let me take you right here if I tried."
Heat floods my face. Between my legs.
He's not wrong.
"That doesn't mean we should—"
"Am I the only one who feels this way then?" His voice drops, dangerous. "Because the way you look at me says otherwise."
"I don't, I don't feel—"
"Prove it."
The challenge hangs in the air.
"W-What?"
"Prove you don't want me." He steps closer, backing me toward the stone wall. "Tell me to stop. Push me away. Do anything except stand there lying to both of us."
My back hits the wall, and a startled gasp leaves my lips.
He's so close now I can feel his heat, smell the cigarette smoke and cologne.
Tell him to stop. Push him away. Leave.
I don't move.
"That's what I fucking thought," he growls.
Then he kisses me.
Oh God.
It's rough, desperate, and consuming. His hands are in my hair, on my waist, pulling me against him. His tongue slides into my mouth, demanding and possessive.
I kiss him back just as desperately.
This is wrong. This is so wrong.
But I don't care. Can't care. I've been aching for this since I woke up from that dream, and now he's here, solid and real and wanting me.
He spins me around, presses me face-first against the wall. His body covers mine from behind.
"Tell me to stop if that’s what you really want, Aurora," he purrs in my ear.
"Don't stop." I cry.
His hand slides up my thigh, finds my underwear. "Fucking hell. You're soaked."
"I-I had a dream."
"About me?"
"Yes."
He groans, his hips grinding against me. I can feel how hard he is through his pants. "What was I doing in this dream?"
"Your mouth—you were—"
"Eating you out?" His fingers slip under my underwear, find me wet and ready. "Fuck, Aurora. You're dripping."
I whimper as he circles my clit.
"We can't… someone might see!"
"Then you better be quiet." His other hand covers my mouth. "Can you do that? Can you stay quiet while I fuck you, Princess?"
I nod, trembling.
He works my underwear down, lifts my nightgown. I hear his belt, his zipper. Then he's there, the head of his cock pressing against my entrance.
"Last chance," he breathes. "Tell me to stop."
I push back against him with a moan.
He slides in with one hard thrust, and I moan into his hand.
God, I forgot how big he is.
He doesn't give me time to adjust. Just starts moving, hard and fast, one hand over my mouth and the other gripping my hip.
It's frantic. Desperate. Nothing gentle or romantic about it.
It’s everything I want.
"You feel so good," he's muttering against my neck. "So fucking tight. Missed this. Missed you."
I'm trying to stay quiet, but it's impossible. Every thrust hits that perfect spot, sending pleasure radiating through me.
His hand leaves my hip, slides around to find my clit.
Oh no. I'm not going to last.
"That's it," he whispers. "Feel you getting close. You gonna come on my cock, Aurora? Gonna come for me right here where anyone could see?"
I nod frantically.
"Do it then. Come for me."
His fingers press harder on my clit, and I shatter.
The orgasm rips through me so hard my knees give out. He holds me up, his hand tight over my mouth to muffle my screams, and keeps fucking me through it.
"Fuck! Aurora, I'm—"
He pulls out just in time, finishing on the ground beside us. We're both shaking, breathing hard.
Slowly, he releases me.
I turn around and lean against the wall because my legs won't hold me.
We stare at each other in horror.
What did we just do?
"This can't happen again," I say finally.
"No."
"W-We're going to pretend this never happened."
"Yes."
Neither of us moves.
"I should go," I say.
"You should."
But he's looking at me like he wants to do it again. Right now. Against this wall, or on the ground, or anywhere he can have me.
We're both lying.
This is going to happen again. We both know it.
"Axel—"
"Go." His voice is rough. "Before I change my mind about letting you leave."
I grab my underwear from the ground, pull my nightgown down. My legs are shaking so badly I can barely walk.
I make it three steps before I hear his voice.
"Aurora."
I stop. Don't turn around.
"I'm not sorry," he says quietly.
Me either.
But I don't say it. Just keep walking until I'm back inside, back in my room, closing the door and leaning against it.
My whole body's still buzzing. I can feel where he was inside me, feel the ache between my legs.
What have I done?
I just had sex with my fiancé's father. In the garden. Where anyone could have seen.
I should feel guilty. Should feel horrified.
Instead, I just feel alive.
And that's the most terrifying thing of all.