Chapter 8: The Billionaire's Muse

~Aria's POV~

I came six times on that balcony.

Six times while blindfolded, with my legs shaking, wondering if anyone below could see me.

I wondered if Dante was even watching or if he'd just left me there like a toy he had gotten bored with.

By the time he came back, I was sobbing. Overstimulated and exhausted. I was ready to beg him for mercy.

But he didn't give me any. He just pulled the vibrator out, untied the blindfold, and looked at me with his cold, blank eyes that didn't give anything away.

"Good girl," was all he whispered.

Then he walked away.

No praise. No comfort. No "properly fucking me" as he'd promised.

Just... nothing.

I stood there on that balcony for another ten minutes, trying to catch my breath and understand what the hell was happening between us.

This wasn't supposed to be complicated. It was a contract. Six months. My body for his money with properly fucking me.

But it didn't feel like a contract anymore. Each time we met for anything, it felt like a tug of war.

I went to my room ignoring the way, the maids in the hallway looked at me with disgust.

I went to bed forcing my mind to shut down. A few minutes later, I fell asleep.

Although it felt like someone had entered the room and kissed me since my lips were swollen when I woke up the next day.

All through the day, I didn't see Dante. I was bored but I reminded myself that it would be over soon and I could go home debt-free.

In the evening, Dante left a note on my bed when I woke up. For no reason, I got excited.

I read the note. ["Wear the red dress in your closet. The mask too. Be ready at 9 PM. -D"]

I walked to the closet and found a red dress that barely qualified as clothing. It was sheer in places, cut so low my breasts were practically spilling out, and so short that if I bent over even slightly, everyone would see I wasn't wearing underwear.

Because of course there was another note. ["No underwear."]

Next to the dress was a black masquerade mask. It looked elegant and mysterious.

What the hell was he planning?

At exactly nine PM, Dante knocked on my door. He was wearing all black, a dress shirt, slacks, and his signature expensive cologne that made my brain go fuzzy.

His eyes traveled over my body with a hungry stare.

"Perfect," he murmured.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"You'll see."

Thirty minutes later, we pulled up to a building in a part of the city I didn't recognize.

There were no signs. No obvious entrance. Just a black door with a security guard who nodded at Dante as if he knew him.

We went inside. And I realized exactly what kind of place this was.

The lighting was dim in red and purple. Slow depraved songs were playing in the background. But what really gave it away were the people.

Couples grinding against walls. A woman was on her knees in a corner booth. Moans mixed with the music filled the air.

Fuck! This was a sex club. I feel so hot all of a sudden.

"Dante…" I started.

"Quiet," he ordered, his hand possessive on the small of my back.

"You wanted my attention? You have it. And everyone else will also watch."

He led me to the bar. Ordered us drinks. But I couldn't focus on anything except the scene around me.

A man was fucking a woman bent over a table with a second man under her eating her pussy.

Another couple was kissing while a third person stood there watching as he stroked his cock.

This was insane.

Dante handed me a glass of something strong. I downed it in one gulp. Knowing I needed the drink to get through whatever he had planned for the night.

"Nervous?" he asked, amusement in his voice as his eyes roamed over my body unconsciously biting his lips.

"Should I be?"

"Probably."

He finished his drink and set the glass down. Then he spun me around, pressing my stomach against the bar.

"Dante, what are you…"

He hiked up my dress in one smooth motion. Cool air hit my bare ass and pussy.

"Everyone's watching," he murmured in my ear. "And you're going to let them."

His fingers found the entrance of my already soaked pussy. But why am I always wet for him, even when I hated him?

He slid two fingers inside me and I gasped, my hands gripping the edge of the bar.

"That's it," he murmured against my ear as he took the lobe in his mouth, licking and sucking on it. I couldn't help the moans that slipped out.

"Let them hear you, more."

He pumped his fingers slowly. I suddenly could feel eyes on us and hear the music change, becoming dirtier and even filthier.

Suddenly it was his cock pressing against me and not his fingers.

He pushed inside in one brutal thrust and I moaned, loud and shameless, no longer giving a fuck about who sees. In fact, I liked them looking at me.

I liked the reaction on their faces. The men were increasing the temple of their movement as they fucked their partners while looking at me.

"Look around," Dante ordered.

I turned my head and through my mask, I saw people watching us. A man stroking himself. A woman is grinding against her partner while staring at us.

Another lady brought out her sex toy fucking herself with it while staring at me.

"They can see everything," Dante growled in my ear. "See how desperate you are. How wet. How well you take my cock."

He thrust harder and I cried out.

"Some of them are touching themselves," he continued. "That couple over there? They're fucking now because of you. Because they watched you bent over this bar, moaning like a whore."

Holy crap.

"And him?" Dante nodded toward a man standing a few feet away, stroking himself through his pants. "He wants to join in. He wants to know what you taste like or feel like."

I whimpered.

"Should I let him?" Dante asked. "Should I share you with everyone here?"

"No," I gasped. "Please…"

"Please what? Please let them? Or please keep you all to myself?"

"Keep me," I begged. "Just you. Only you."

He groaned, his thrusts becoming more erratic. "Say it again."

"Only you, Dante. Please…"

He reached around and found my clit, rubbing harsh circles.

"Come," he commanded. "Come right now while they watch."

I broke, screaming, my pussy clenching around him. He followed seconds later, emptying himself inside me with a groan.

For a moment, we stayed frozen. He pressed against my back. I bent over the bar. Both of us are breathing hard.

Then he pulled out and fixed my dress.

"Let's go," he said simply.

And just like that, we left. As if nothing happened. Like he hadn't just bent me over and fucked me in front of a room full of strangers.

In the car ride home, he didn't speak.

I tried to catch my breath and process what had just happened.

"Why did you do that?" I finally asked.

He glanced at me. "Do what?"

"Take me there. Fuck me in front of everyone."

His jaw clenched. "Because I needed to remind myself what you are."

"And what am I?"

"An arrangement," he answered coldly. "Nothing more."

But his hands were gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles were white.

And I knew, I knew, he was lying. To me. And to himself.