All Chapters of The Dark Swan 18+: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

"Aurelia!" Lucien’s voice lost all its playful arrogance, cutting through the air with a sudden, sharp panic. Before I could even scream, I was falling backward into the deep, water-filled basin of the tub. Splash! The warm water swallowed me whole, blinding me for a terrifying second. But almost instantly, a large, heavy body crashed into the water after me. Lucien’s long arms broke through the surface, his large hands cupping the back of my head, shielding my skull with his own palms to ensure I hadn't struck the hard marble. We both broke through the surface together, gasping for air. Water streamed down Lucien’s face, flattening his dark hair against his forehead as he held me close. The water slicked over his broad, bare shoulders and chest, leaving the heavy white gauze around his torso completely drenched. For a moment, neither of us spoke. We just stared at each other, our heavy breaths mingling in the humid air of the bathroom. The sudden rush of adren

Lucien It had been a couple of days since I claimed Aurelia's virginity. Ever since then, although she was quite reserved, I could see her thoroughly enjoying every one of our hot, steamy sessions. It had reached the point where I didn't feel like leaving the penthouse, or even caring about what’s going on in Chicago right now. Luckily, both Silas and Dante were holding the fort pretty well for me, while I had the time to play with my shiny new little toy, who was finally learning to embrace the pleasure. Everything was going well, except for now, when my little pet wanted to get out of the cage of pleasure and sex I’ve created for her. “I really need to go to campus, and visit my mom,” she repeated for what felt like the tenth time, while I continued eating her pussy. I didn’t get to see it clearly at first, due to the rush and excitement from taking her virginity, but I was making up for it now. My eyes trailed down her pink flesh, slightly gaping already, clenching aro

My face was still burning a bright crimson as I slid into the back of the black SUV. Lucien followed immediately after, settling into the leather seat beside me with a cocky, insufferable smirk that was becoming far too familiar.“A good girl,” he murmured, a low rumble of amusement in his chest. “Your mother is too sweet. I can see exactly where you get your innocence from.”I shook my head in disbelief, a wave of shame still pulsing through my veins. “Just forget about it,” I muttered, staring straight ahead.“Forget?” Lucien’s eyes gleamed with wicked delight. “How could I? Especially when you’ve been practicing how to be an exceptionally good girl for me lately.” Before I could snap back, his fingers began a slow, deliberate trail up the side of my thigh, drawing an involuntary gasp from my lips.“Lucien,” I hissed, my eyes darting frantically toward the front seat where Jean and Claude sat.“What’s the matter?” he asked with casual innocence, acting as if his large hand wasn

AureliaI pumped a thick dollop of dish soap onto the sponge, rubbing it thoroughly over the surface of a porcelain plate until the white foam obscured the pattern entirely. My hands were moving on autopilot, a rhythmic, repetitive motion, but my mind was violently stuck in a loop.Reeling. Shattered. Repeating every single word Lucien had just told me over dinner.I always knew I didn't have the best childhood. Considering my father has left me behind with a huge gambling debt, leaving my mother to fight alone for the family.But it felt small now, compared to what Lucien had been through.A little boy, trapped in a room, forced to watch his father being slaughtered, forced to watch his mother being degraded and violated right in front of his eyes, until death finally united them again on a cold, concrete floor.It was the most horrific thing I had ever heard in my life. The raw, unspeakable cruelty of it made my stomach physically twist, a cold ache settling deep in my chest. W

Lucien A week in Chicago felt like a month in purgatory. The city was ours, but inheriting a fallen empire meant drowning in its paperwork and bathing in its filth. I spent my mornings in the wood-paneled backrooms of downtown steakhouses. In this city, those dark leather booths were legendary—they were the unofficial 'second city halls,' a historical staple where decades of mob bosses, union leaders, and city officials had cut shady deals over rare ribeyes. Not much had changed since the Prohibition era. I sat in those exact rooms, shaking hands with greasy, corrupt aldermen who smiled through yellow teeth as they pocketed envelopes thick with hundred-dollar bills. I spent my afternoons sitting across from slick corporate lawyers, forced to watch as they legally untangled Marcone’s offshore accounts and re-routed his blood-soaked millions into our front banks. By the time the sun dipped below the frozen horizon, my tailored suit smelled faintly of expensive cigars,