Chapter Five: Steamy Thoughts 2

Ronan gripped her hips, sliding a hand under the robe to cup her breast, thumb flicking the nipple. His other hand dipped lower, fingers finding her folds still wet from the night. He pushed two inside, curling them to stroke her inner walls, pumping steadily until she moaned, leaning on the counter.

The door swung open, and Aurelia entered, hair tousled from restless sleep, eyes widening at the intimate scene. 'Oh—sorry,' she stammered, cheeks flaming as she averted her gaze.

Selene laughed lightly, straightening. 'No worries, sweetie. Join us for breakfast.' But Ronan held Aurelia's eyes, the bond flaring like wildfire. She shifted uncomfortably, thighs rubbing together, her arousal scenting the air—proof the dreams had taken root.

'Family time,' Ronan said smoothly, withdrawing his fingers from Selene and bringing them to his mouth, licking them clean while staring at Aurelia. Her breath hitched, pupils blowing wide, a flush creeping down her neck.

They sat at the island, tension crackling. Selene chattered about wedding details—floral arrangements, guest lists—oblivious to the undercurrent. Ronan stole glances at Aurelia, his foot brushing hers under the table, sending jolts through them both. She jerked away but didn't move her chair, her fork trembling slightly.

The morning blurred into wedding preparations: fittings in the living room, where Ronan 'helped' Aurelia adjust a sample dress, his hands lingering on her waist, thumbs grazing the underside of her breasts through the fabric. She stiffened, nipples peaking visibly, but said nothing.

By afternoon, they wandered to the garage, Ronan's domain of polished vehicles gleaming under fluorescent lights. He showed her his favorite, a sleek black sports car, hood warm from a recent drive. 'Impressive, right?' he asked, stepping close, his chest nearly brushing her back as she peered at the engine.

Aurelia nodded, voice breathy. 'It's... powerful.' Her scent spiked, arousal mixing with confusion.

Ronan enter her mind again, imagined it then: yanking her skirt up, bending her over the hood, and ramming his cock into her from behind, her cries echoing off the walls as he fucked her raw. His erection strained against his pants, and he shifted, smirking at her flustered glance.

Kai's text buzzed in: Mayor transferred the funds. Clean sweep.

Ronan pocketed his phone, business secured. But Aurelia was the real prize. As evening fell, the house quieted. He lay in bed, the bond a constant hum, plotting the next move—perhaps 'accidentally' entering her bathroom mid-shower, watching water cascade over her naked body before joining her under the spray, soaping her tits and fingering her until she came on his hand.

The game intensified, and Ronan thrived on it. She'd crack soon, drawn inexorably to him, her body surrendering before her mind caught up.

The next morning, Aurelia slipped into a simple tank top with thin straps that hugged her shoulders and loose pants that swayed with her steps. The morning sun filtered through the mansion's tall windows as she padded downstairs, her phone buzzing in her hand. She typed a quick reply to Mira's latest message, fingers flying over the screen about the chaos of settling in.

In the kitchen, the sizzle of eggs and the aroma of bacon greeted her, an unusual sight. Selene rarely cooked; she preferred delegating to the staff or grabbing takeout. Her mother stood at the stove, flipping pancakes with a practiced flick, her robe tied loosely around her waist.

"Morning, Mom," Aurelia said, grabbing a crisp apple from the fruit bowl on the counter. She took a bite, the juice sweet on her tongue. "When are we going back to our house?"

Selene glanced over, a diamond ring catching the light as she waved the spatula. "We're not going back there for now. The wedding's on Saturday, your mom's getting married." She thrust her hand forward, flaunting the sparkling band right in Aurelia's face.

Aurelia scoffed, rolling her eyes as she crunched into the apple. "You're older than him. Why are you even going through with this marriage?"

"You're trying on your dress today," Selene replied without looking up, her tone dismissive. She plated the food—steaming eggs, bacon strips glistening with fat, and golden pancakes stacked high, then carried it to the dining room, hips swaying.

Aurelia followed with her own plate, but the front door creaked open downstairs, drawing her back. No, she stayed put as heavy footsteps echoed up the stairs. Ronan appeared, dressed head to toe in black: fitted shirt clinging to his broad chest, pants hugging his thighs, boots polished to a shine. He joined them at the table, his eyes locking on Aurelia with a smirk that made her stomach twist.

Without a word, he reached over and squeezed Selene's ass, his large hand gripping the firm flesh through her robe right in front of Aurelia. Selene laughed, a throaty sound with no hint of shame, leaning into the touch as she forked a piece of pancake into her mouth.

Heat flooded Aurelia's cheeks. She grabbed her plate and bolted upstairs, the apple forgotten on the counter. In her room, once a sterile guest space, now scattered with her clothes and books, she sat on the bed, picking at the food while texting Mira. Moved into Ronan's house. It's huge, but weird. Mom's all over him, and he's... intense.

Mira's response popped up instantly: How's the room? Spill the tea.

Aurelia switched to video call, propping the phone against a pillow. She panned the camera around: the king-sized bed with fresh linens, a vanity cluttered with her makeup, and a window overlooking the manicured gardens. "It used to be a guest room, but it's mine now," she said, zooming in on the en-suite bathroom door.

"Looks posh," Mira grinned from her screen, lounging on her own bed in Brooklyn. "Better than that cramped apartment we had."

A sharp knock interrupted them. Aurelia set the plate aside and cracked the door. The housekeeper stood there, a box in her arms. "Mrs. Nightbane said the planner's here. You should try this on, then come down."

Aurelia nodded, taking the box. "Thanks." She ended the call with Mira mid-sentence. "I'll text you later."

Alone, she lifted the lid. Inside lay the bridesmaid dress: soft lavender silk that shimmered like liquid under the room's light. Her fingers trembled as she stripped down, the cool fabric sliding over her skin. She adjusted the straps in the full-length mirror, the material clinging to her curves, cupping her breasts, nipping at her waist, flowing over her hips. It felt too revealing, the neckline dipping just enough to hint at cleavage. But it fit perfectly, accentuating her blonde hair cascading over one shoulder.

Satisfied, she headed downstairs. The living room buzzed with activity. The wedding planner, a brisk woman in a pencil skirt, scribbled notes on her clipboard, rattling off details about centerpieces bursting with roses and seating charts for eighty guests. Selene stood in the center, radiant in a sample bridal gown that molded to her body, plunging neckline showcasing her full breasts, the skirt flaring dramatically at her hips.

"What do you think, darling?" Selene asked, twirling with a flourish, the fabric whispering around her legs.

"It's beautiful, Mom," Aurelia replied, forcing a smile as she descended the last step. But her gaze drifted involuntarily to Ronan. He leaned against the mantel, arms crossed over his chest, black shirt sleeves rolled up to expose the intricate tattoos snaking over his forearms, dark lines of wolves and thorns that seemed to pulse in the soft light. He watched her, his stare intense, stripping her bare without a word. Her pulse quickened, a flush creeping up her neck, her nipples tightening against the silk until they poked visibly through the fabric.

He pushed off the wall, closing the distance in three long strides.

The air seemed to thicken as he stopped too close, his cologne, a mix of leather and spice, invading her senses. "You look stunning in that dress, Aurelia," he said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through her, sending an unwelcome heat pooling low in her belly.

His hand brushed her arm, fingers lingering to trace the edge of the strap, rough skin grazing her shoulder. Electricity sparked at the touch, her breath catching in her throat. She stepped back, eyes darting to her mom, but Selene was absorbed in the planner's suggestions, oblivious to the charged moment.

Selene laughed then, linking her arm through Ronan's possessively. "See? We're going to be one big happy family." She tugged him toward the planner, discussing cake flavors, but not before Ronan shot Aurelia a smirk, dark, knowing, promising things that made her thighs clench.

The afternoon dragged on in a haze of fittings and tastings. They sampled hors d'oeuvres in the dining room, tiny crab cakes that burst with flavor, champagne flutes fizzing on silver trays. Floral scents hung heavy, lilies and peonies arranged in vases that dotted every surface. Aurelia nodded along to the planner's endless chatter, but her skin felt too tight, flushed from Ronan's proximity. Every time he entered the room, his eyes found hers, lingering on the way the dress hugged her ass as she moved.

She escaped to the kitchen midway through, the cool marble counter a relief against her palms as she poured a glass of water. Leaning there, she closed her eyes, trying to shake the image of Ronan's hands, strong, callused, gripping her waist, pulling her close. His fingers digging in, sliding lower to cup her through the silk. She shook her head, gulping the water to douse the fire building inside.

Aurelia followed her mother immediately after that, sticking close during the final adjustments to avoid another encounter with Ronan until the wedding was done. Selene didn't notice, too wrapped up in her own excitement, chattering about the vows and the honeymoon suite in the Maldives.

By evening, exhaustion pulled at her. Back in her room, Aurelia kicked off the dress and pulled on pajamas, the silk pooling on the floor like spilled wine. She called Mira again, collapsing onto the bed.

"Do you think you can avoid him that long?" Mira asked from the screen, her face concerned but amused.

"I have to," Aurelia sighed, hugging a pillow. "I keep feeling this... need toward him whenever I'm close. And I've been having these weird wet dreams repeatedly since I got back here. It's messing with my head. I need to save up and rent my own space, get out of this house."

Mira chuckled softly. "Don't worry too much about it. If you need me, I'm here, but Mr. Hot Sexy is faster to access." She winked, and they both laughed, the tension easing for a moment.

"Goodnight," Aurelia said, cutting the call. She burrowed under the duvet, the sheets cool against her skin, and let sleep claim her.

The next morning, sunlight pierced the curtains, and Aurelia adjusted her eyes to the brightness as she woke. She huffed a relieved breath, no dream had plagued her night, no heated visions of hands roaming her body, no breathless moans echoing in her mind. "Thank goodness," she muttered, swinging her legs out of bed.

She headed to the bathroom, stripping down and stepping under the hot spray. Water cascaded over her, soothing the lingering ache between her thighs. She lathered soap over her breasts, fingers brushing sensitive nipples that hardened at the touch, then down her stomach to her mound, rinsing away the stickiness of unspoken desires. Dressed in work clothes, a crisp blouse and slacks, she felt more grounded, ready for the day.