Chapter 2: The Billionaire's Muse

~ ARIA~

The movers looked at me like I was insane. I mean who wouldn't. I was carrying just one box with the inscription “ the only shit I own.”

Everything else in my home smelled bad after coming back from Dante's penthouse yesterday, well, I was here again.

Dante watched from the doorway of what I could only describe as a bedroom the size of a basketball court.

His arms were crossed. I wondered if he was judging me but his expression was unreadable.

"That's it?" he asked.

I lifted the box. "I travel light. Also, I'm poor. We've established this."

His mouth twitched. Almost a smile. If that's a smile then it's terrifying.

"Put it down."

I set the box on the floor. It looked pathetically out of place and I wanted to kick it into the Hudson River.

"Your room is down the hall. Second door on the left." He checked his watch. "Unpack quickly. Dinner is at eight. Don't be late."

"What happens if I'm late?"

His eyes met mine. I knew instantly, he didn't like being disobeyed. Aria, you need the money. Keep your sassy mouth in place. A little voice said.

"You'll find out. And you won't like it," Dante said, his eyes dark daring me to disobey him.

My "room" was bigger than my entire apartment had been.

The bed was a California King with sheets that probably cost more than my monthly rent. The closet was a walk-in that could house a family of four. The bathroom had heated floors.

Heated fucking floors. Who the hell needed heated floors?

Rich people. That's who.

I unpacked my box in three minutes. My sad collection of mismatched underwear and two pairs of jeans looked like a joke in the massive walk-in closet. There was a note on the bed when I turned around.

"Wear the dress in the closet. No underwear. -D"

I crumpled the note. No underwear? Was he serious?

I opened the closet again and found a black gown hanging front and center. It was simple and elegant.

I knew it probably cost more than my car before it got repossessed.

I held it up. It was going to cling to every curve I had.

Of course it was.

At exactly seven fifty-eight, I made my way to the dining room. My pulse hammered in my throat.

I wasn't wearing panties or a bra. Just me and this crazy expensive gown. I couldn't resist the urge. I checked online and it cost $5000.

Crazy rich people.

The dining room was neat. A table that could seat twelve people easily.

There were crystal chandeliers that sparkled like captured starlight.

And actual paintings on the walls that probably cost more than a kidney on the black market.

Dante sat at the head of the table, already eating. He wore a black button-down with the sleeves rolled up. A woman in a crisp black uniform stood near the kitchen door, her hands clasped in front of her.

"Sit," Dante said without looking up from his plate. “ Marie, set her table.”

I took the chair to his right. Marie quickly appeared, setting a plate in front of me. Steak, roasted vegetables, some kind of fancy potato thing that probably had a French name I couldn't pronounce.

"Thank you," I said to her.

She nodded, her expression lifeless, she retreated toward the kitchen.

I picked up my fork. Dante's hand shot out, wrapping around my wrist before the utensil could touch the food.

"Did I say you could eat?"

My stomach dropped somewhere near my feet. "I... assumed?"

"Don't assume." He released my wrist. "You wait for permission. Always."

Jesus Christ. He was actually serious about this property thing.

I set my fork down, my hands in my lap like a scolded child. "May I eat?"

"You may."

I started cutting into the steak, hyper-aware of his presence beside me.

His cologne, cedar and citrus fragrance filled me.

Marie returned with wine, pouring a deep red into both our glasses. I murmured another thank you.

Dante's hand landed on my thigh under the table.

I froze mid-chew.

His fingers traced slow, deliberate circles on my bare skin. Going higher and higher.

I tried to keep my face neutral and act like his hand wasn't creeping toward the apex of my thighs.

Marie left again, disappearing into the kitchen.

Dante's fingers brushed over my pussy. No panties to block him and I understood why he didn't want me to wear one.

I inhaled sharply, nearly choking on my food.

"Something wrong?" he asked casually, cutting his own steak with his free hand like he wasn't currently finger-fucking me under the table.

"No," I managed, my voice strained.

"Good. Keep eating."

I forced myself to take another bite. His fingers slid through my folds, finding me already wet. Of course I was wet. My body was a traitor.

He circled my clit slowly. I bit the inside of my cheek hard enough to draw blood.

Marie returned with a bread basket. I stared at my wine glass like it held the meaning of life.

Don't moan. Don't moan. Don't you dare fucking moan in front of the staff.

"Thank you, Marie," Dante said smoothly.

"Of course, Mr. Moretti."

She set the basket down and left. The second she disappeared, his finger slipped inside me.

I gasped, my fork clattering against the porcelain plate.

He added a second finger without warning, going in and out slowly. "You were saying?"

"I wasn't…" My voice cracked. "I wasn't saying anything."

"Exactly. Good girl." He curled his fingers, hitting that devastating spot inside me, and I had to grip the edge of the table to stay upright.

My thighs clenched around his hand. He pried them apart with his free hand.

"Keep them open," he ordered. "Or I'll tie them to the chair legs."

Holy shit. He would absolutely do that.

I forced my legs apart, trembling with the effort of staying still and quiet.

Marie came back, clearing our appetizer plates. I stared straight ahead, counting the crystals on the chandelier.

One hundred and forty-seven. I made it to one hundred and forty-seven crystals before his thumb found my clit again.

He would press and circle. At this point, I was going to die from my moans back.

"More wine, Miss?" Marie asked me directly.

I couldn't form words. Dante answered for me.

"She's fine, Marie. Thank you."

The maid nodded and finally left

the room.

The second the kitchen door swung shut, I let out a shaky breath.

"You're very quiet tonight," Dante observed, adding a third finger. The stretch made my eyes roll back. "That's unusual for you."

"I'm eating," I said through gritted teeth.

"Are you?" He glanced at my plate. I'd barely touched anything. "You've had maybe two bites."

Because your fingers are knuckle-deep inside me, you sadistic bastard.

His thumb pressed harder on my clit. Circling faster. His fingers pumped relentlessly and I could hear how wet I was. The obscene sound echoed in the quiet dining room.

"Should I stop?" he asked, his voice throaty and rough.

"No," I gasped before I could stop myself.

"No, what?"

"No... please don't stop."

"Better." He rewarded me by curling his fingers again, hitting that spot that made stars explode behind my eyes.

My orgasm built fast and brutal. I was right on the edge, trembling, my nails digging into the table…

He withdrew his hand completely. I almost sobbed. Damning him to hell.

Dante brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean, one by one, maintaining eye contact the entire time. His eyes darkened as he tasted me.

"Delicious," he said. "Even better than yesterday."

I was going to combust. Spontaneous human combustion was real and it was happening to me right now.

He stood abruptly, tossing his napkin onto the table. "Come with me."

I followed on shaking legs, my pussy throbbing with unsatisfied need.

He led me through the house to a door I hadn't noticed before.

He opened it. And steam billowed out into the hallway.

A bathroom. No, it was a mini spa. There was a massive soaking tub, and a shower with at least six different heads.

"Strip," he ordered, already unbuttoning his shirt.

"Do you ever get tired of giving commands?"

"Do you ever get tired of being a smartass?"

"Not really. It's kind of my thing."

He shrugged off his shirt. "Strip. Or I'll do it for you, and I won't be gentle with that expensive dress."

I pulled the dress over my head, letting it pool at my feet. I was already naked underneath.

His eyes raked over every inch of me. Hungry and possessive.

He stripped quickly. Pants. Boxers. Everything.

My eyes slid downward. His cock was massive.

How can a human cock be that big? It was long and thick. Already hard and pointing straight at me.

Easily ten inches of "how the fuck is that supposed to fit inside a human body."

My eyes went wide. "That's not going to fit."

"It will." He stalked toward me. "Eventually. Tonight isn't about my cock. Tonight is about teaching you to follow orders."