Chapter 5: The Billionaire's Muse

~ ARIA ~

I crawled across the cold floor on my hands and knees, feeling every shred of dignity I had left was being stripped away with each movement.

But God help me, I wanted this.

I wanted him.

My body was still trembling from the orgasms he'd wrung out of me. Three. He'd made me come with those damn toys, and I had begged him to stop. Begged for mercy.

Yet, he'd given me none.

And now here I was, crawling to him like a desperate animal, while watching him stroke his huge cock with his thunderstorm eyes promising me both heaven and hell.

I reached him and knelt between his spread legs, looking up at his face. His jaw was clenched, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.

He looked like a god. Dark and dangerous. Completely in control.

"Open your mouth," he ordered, his voice rough.

I did.

He guided his cock to my lips, letting just the tip rest against my tongue. He was hot and hard against my lips.

He was already leaking.

"You're going to take all of me," he said. "Every. Fucking. Inch. Understood?"

I nodded, my mouth still open, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might burst out of my chest.

"Then show me how badly you want it."

I closed my lips around him and he groaned, his head falling back.

Holy shit. He was huge.

I'd seen him naked yesterday in the shower, but having him in my mouth was different. The weight of him on my tongue and the stretch of my lips around his girth was too much.

I didn't stop, I took him deeper, inch by inch, trying to relax my throat.

I gagged. Pulled back. Tried again.

"Go gently," he said, his voice strained. "You don't have to…"

But I couldn't stop myself.

An urge I couldn't control had taken over. A desperate need to prove I could take him.

To make him lose that dang control he wore every time.

I pushed further, feeling him hit the back of my throat. My eyes watered. I gagged again but didn't pull back.

Thank God I had round cheeks and could eat large portions because somehow, somehow, I managed to take him deeper.

More. I needed more of him.

I breathed through my nose and pushed until my lips touched the base of his cock. Until he was buried completely in my throat.

He hissed, his hand flying to my hair, gripping hard. "Fuck, Aria…"

With his other hand, he pressed something. The remote.

The vibrator inside me roared to life at maximum intensity.

I moaned around his cock, the vibration making him hiss again. My body convulsed, another orgasm slamming into me without warning.

But I didn't stop. I couldn't stop. I bobbed my head, taking him deep, then pulling back, then deep again. My jaw ached.

My throat burned. Tears streamed down my face.

And I loved it.

I loved the way his control was breaking. The way his breathing had turned ragged. The way his grip on my hair tightened until it hurt.

He was losing it. Finally.

I wanted him torn apart. I wanted him bucking and trembling like he'd made me tremble. I wanted him to feel as desperate and wrecked as I felt.

I picked up the pace, sucking harder, taking him deeper with each bob of my head.

"Aria…" His voice was strangled. "Fuck…"

Ten minutes. That's how long it took.

Ten minutes of me worshipping his cock with my mouth before he finally lost control completely.

His hips started moving. Thrusting up into my mouth. Fucking my face with rough, desperate strokes.

He was a moaning mess. His head, thrown back. His breathing was strangled. That perfect control finally broke.

"I'm going to…" He tried to pull me off but I gripped his thighs and stayed exactly where I was.

He came with a roar, his cock pulsing as he emptied himself down my throat.

I swallowed everything. Every drop. Then I pulled back slowly and licked him clean, my tongue tracing along his length, tasting salt and his musky scent.

I looked up at him through my lashes, meeting those dangerous thunderstorm eyes that were now dark with hunger.

For a moment, we just stared at each other. His chest was still heaving. His hand was still tangled in my hair.

Then he shoved me roughly. Hard enough that I fell backward onto the cold floor.

"Dante…"

But he was already standing, tucking himself back into his pants, his face filled with pure anger.

He walked out not looking back.

He just left me sitting there on the studio floor, naked except for his cum drying on my lips and the confusion flooding my brain.

What the hell had I done wrong? I had given him what he wanted, hadn't I? I had crawled. Obeyed and even taken every inch of him.

So why did he look at me like I'd committed some unforgivable sin?

The studio door opened, and Marie appeared, her face completely devoid of emotion as always. She held out a black silk robe.

"Miss," she called quietly.

I took it with shaking hands and wrapped it around myself. My legs were weak.

And my jaw ached while my pussy was still throbbing from the toy he'd finally turned off. Marie led me back to my room without a word. She didn't look at me. Neither did she ask if I was okay.

Maybe she'd seen this before and I wasn't the first woman Dante had used and discarded in that studio. The thought made my stomach twist.

She led me to my door and left me there. I stumbled inside, collapsing onto the bed. What had I done wrong? I replayed the scene in my head. Over and over. Trying to figure out where I'd crossed some invisible line.

Was it because I didn't stop when he told me to go gently? Was it because I'd made him lose control? Was that not allowed in whatever twisted arrangement we had?

I waited all night for him to come to my room. To explain. To punish me. To fuck me. Or do something.

He never came and I barely slept. Every sound in the hallway made my heart jump, thinking it was him. It never was.

By morning, I felt like shit. Exhausted, confused and angry. And still desperately, and pathetically turned on. When I finally dragged myself out of bed around nine, I found a note that had been slipped under my door.

"Wear the black dress in your wardrobe. Meet me in the studio at 10 AM. Don't be late. -D"

That was it. No explanation. No acknowledgment of what had happened yesterday. Just another command. I crumpled the note in my fist.

What the hell had I signed up for? And why did part of me still want to obey him? I opened my wardrobe and found the dress. It was a black lace fitted silk. With a note pinned to it.

"No underwear."

Of course. I showered, trying to wash away the confusion and frustration. It didn't work. By the time I slipped into the dress and made my way toward the studio, my hands were shaking.

Not from fear, but anticipation. Because despite everything, I wanted to see him again and to know what he'd do to me next.

God, I was so fucked.