Page 5

Aria

I wake up surrounded by the scent of Cillian, a heady mixture of leather, wood, and something else, something warm. I blink slowly, trying to adjust to the bright beams of sunlight filtering into the room. The small digital clock on the nightstand tells me it’s past eleven. I slept in. That must be why he left me in bed to go about his business. I look around, taking in the large master bedroom. It’s very different from the guest bedroom, darker and enigmatic, just like him.

I’m in Cillian’s bedroom. In his bed… My heart skips a beat at the thought. Being with Cillian makes me feel…powerful, somehow. Like I’m the one who owns him, even after he bought me. It’s inexplicable.

I’m drawn to everything about him, the way he looks at me and talks to me, the way he’s sometimes hard and sometimes soft… I like him more than I’ve ever liked anyone, and I’ve only known him for a few long hours. It feels like a lifetime. And oh, the way he touches my body, like it was made just for him. I run my hands over the soft sheets as memories of last night flood my mind, and I’m suddenly breathless and hot all over again.

I bury my face in my palms for a second, a stupid grin creeping onto my face. Without thinking, I jump out of bed naked and stand in front of the full-length mirror, striking a playful pose, then start strutting across the room like it’s my runway. I make it to the other side, whirl around, and freeze, a surprised gasp bursting out of my lips.

Cillian is standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame, arms crossed, eyes locked on me with that dark, hungry gaze—like a predator sizing up its prey.

“That was fantastic,” he says, his eyes roaming over my bare skin with a look that has me blushing from the root of my hair to my toes.

“You think so?” I ask, biting my lip self-consciously.

“Yes,” he says simply. I can tell he’s being genuine. Cillian doesn’t seem like the type to butter anyone up. “If you ever decide to take up modeling, you’d do really well.”

My heart skips at his words. “I do model on the side,” I say with an excited smile.

He raises an eyebrow. “That makes sense,” he says with that faint smirk of his. Then he pauses, his brows furrowing thoughtfully. “Your walk feels familiar. Like I’ve seen it before.”

“Maybe you knew my mom?” I say with a small shrug. “She was kind of a big deal back in the late nineties. She’s my role model. Fiona Martins?”

His eyes light up with recognition. “Fiona Martins. Yes! That’s it. I can’t believe you’re Fiona’s daughter. I should have known. I met her once at a fundraiser—she was stunning. I see you inherited her beauty and fire.”

His words leave me a bit breathless. I never talk about my mom much, but sharing this with him feels surprisingly easy. Thinking about it now, I realize he’s probably around the same age my mom would be if she and my dad hadn’t been in that car accident. Not like it matters. With Cillian, age feels insignificant. He makes me feel things no one else has ever or will ever make me feel.

He steps toward the bed and sits down, looking up at me with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Do it again,” he says, leaning back, his gaze challenging.

I laugh, crossing my arms. “You want me to walk for you?” I gesture down my naked body. “Like this?”

“Yes, love.” His voice is low and smooth, with that hint of something wicked. “I’ll have it no other way.”

My cheeks heat up all over again, but I hold his gaze and strike a pose, then I walk to the other end of the room, turn around, and continue to walk toward him. All the while, his eyes are on me, feasting shamelessly, and when I finally stop in front of him, he nods and claps.

“It’s like watching Fiona on stage again…but you’ve also got your own style,” he says, his mouth curling up in an appreciative smile. “I can picture you on the big stage someday.”

“Maybe,” I murmur, looking away. After being auctioned off on that stage last night, I’m not sure how I feel about trying modeling again.

Cillian reaches out, tugging me gently onto his lap. His eyes are soft, apologetic, as if he knows what I’m thinking. “You have everything it takes, Aria. It’s only a matter of time.”

“Thank you,” I whisper, drowning in the endless pool of his eyes. Suddenly, I feel something hard pressing against my thigh. I shift slightly, thinking it’s his belt buckle at first, but then he lets out a tight hiss. I look at his face, taking in the deep hunger in his eyes tinged with a hint of amusement, and it slowly dawns on me…

“It’s…you’re…” I let my words trail off, my cheeks flaming with embarrassment.

Cillian chuckles softly. “That’s what you do to me, love.” He runs his hand runs up my thigh, and the look in his eyes tells me he wants nothing more than to pull me closer, but then he glances at the clock and sighs. “I have to leave for a meeting in five minutes.”

I hesitate, then look up at him with a small, shy smile. “Maybe…there’s something we can do in that time?”

His eyes darken with intrigue. He raises an eyebrow. “Is there?”

I nod, clearing my throat awkwardly. “I…I could…make you feel good.”

“Make me feel good how?” he asks with a smirk that suggests he knows exactly what I’m talking about.

He likes to tease me. The thought is thrilling.

Instead of answering, I drop to my knees in front of him, then push his legs apart and position myself between them. I lower his zipper and reach in to pull him out, my heart thrumming violently in my chest.

“Like this…” I murmur, looking up at him, his length cradled in my palm. “I could touch you, and taste you…just like last night.”

Cillian is watching my face, his expression unreadable. “You really liked that, huh?”

“Yes. Maybe I shouldn’t have, but…I did.” I didn’t exactly like our audience, but I’ve thought a lot about the feeling of him coming undone in my mouth, and the thrill of knowing I can make him lose control. I find myself wanting to do it again, and again.

Cillian’s expression softens with something unreadable. “I’m all yours, love.”

Keeping my eyes locked on his, I carefully lower my mouth, swallowing just his tip. My lips burn, stretching around his length. Drops of pre-cum pool on the cap of his cock, trickling over my tongue. I like the taste of him—it’s addictive.

I lick my way down from the head, evoking a deep moan from him, and then I make my way back up, taking his tip in my mouth again, going deeper this time. Cillian lets out another moan, weaving his hand through my hair. I kiss my way down to his root again, sucking one of his balls into my mouth.

“Oh, Aria,” he moans, his hand tightening in my hair.

Oh, he likes that…

I take the other ball into my mouth, sucking it with as much devotion as the first, rolling it around with my tongue before licking a line back up his pulsing length. By the time I reach the slit on the head of his cock, another pool of pre-cum has gathered and is starting to drip down the sides. I eagerly lick at each drop, covering my tongue with his flavor before I take him into my mouth again. My mouth is full, my throat tight, and my eyes are burning with tears but I keep taking him in, pausing halfway to draw in a deep breath through my nose. Once I have more air in my lungs, I continue.

Encouraged by Cillian’s deep groan of pleasure, I swallow him down until the tip of his cock is pushing precariously against my throat. Good thing I haven’t had breakfast, or I’d be making a fool of myself. I slowly start to bob my head, sucking in my cheeks as I move my lips up his thick cock. I want to savor every last inch as he moves through my mouth. Once I get the hang of things, I start to move faster. His hand on my head pushes me further down, his hips rocking into my mouth in a wicked rhythm. I can still feel drops of his luscious pre-cum splattering over my tongue every time I swallow, and god, it’s fantastic.

His balls start to pull up tight to his body, his moans becoming more unrestrained. I increase the speed of my movements, sucking him down my throat and then hollowing my cheeks out as I move back up to the tip. I see girls do this all the time at Rose Club and now I’m glad I secretly watched sometimes. The knowledge that I can pleasure Cillian is heady, powerful… It makes me want to be bolder, and more daring.

I can feel him getting close. His cock grows even bigger in my mouth and I gag, my eyes growing wider, burning with hot tears. Cillian holds my head in place, his palm pressing me down. I can’t breathe, or move, my vision swimming in front of me, my chest burning with the need for air, but even if I die now, I have no regrets.

Cillian growls my name as loads of his cum shoot into my throat, hot and thick, filling my mouth. I swallow as fast as I can but drops of it slide out of the edges of my mouth. The pressure of his hand on my head eases and I lift up, wrapping my hand around him and lapping up every bit of his cum. When he’s all cleaned up, I carefully put him back in his pants and zip him up. I glance up to see Cillian looking at me with a tender expression that makes my heart swell with happiness.

He pulls me into his lap and captures my mouth in a long, passionate kiss.

“I like the taste of you,” I say shyly after he pulls back, blushing to my roots.

He laughs, shaking his head at me. “I’m glad you do. It’s too bad I have to go now,” he says regretfully, glancing at the clock then back at me. “We’ll pick this up after I get back.”

My heart skips at the sinful promise in his voice. With one last kiss on my lips, he heads out, leaving me with a wide grin.

I glance at the clock—it’s almost noon, so going back to sleep isn’t appealing. I decide to look around the house. I grab a shirt from Cillian’s closet, throw it on, and walk out of the room barefoot, making a mental note to buy some clothes as soon as I can.

Although, I can’t say I mind wearing his clothes.

I wander through the condo, peeking into rooms, taking in the splendor of his beautiful home. There are three bedrooms—Cillian’s, the guest room where I’m staying, and a third one, directly opposite Cillian’s.

What’s behind that door? A gym? His home office?

My curiosity gets the best of me and before I know it, I turn the knob and push the door open. I freeze, blinking in surprise at the pink-themed bedroom. I would never imagine a room like this in Cillian’s house. I walk further inside, staring at the lush, pink, center rug and the comfy-looking couch by the window. The bed is neatly made and the smell of lavender hangs in the air.

I’m still looking around when the door suddenly opens behind me. I jump, my heart almost flying out of my chest. Cillian is standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable.

I clear my throat, my cheeks burning up with embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to trespass. I was just…”

“It’s fine, love, you don’t have to apologize.” He stuffs his hands into his pockets, slowly looking around like he’s seeing the place for the first time. “I haven’t been in here in a while,” he says quietly.

“Why?” I ask, still a little shaken by how he sneaked up on me.

He remains quiet for a long moment, and just as I’m starting to think he didn’t hear me, he turns his gaze to me. “It used to be my little sister’s room.”

“Used to be? Does that mean—”

“Yes, she died,” he interrupts, his tone flat.

My heart drops. I was going to ask if she moved out. “I’m so sorry,” I murmur, unsure of how to comfort him. His eyes are so uncharacteristically sad and my heart hurts just watching him.

“It’s been three years,” he says, a bitter smile tugging at his lips as he grazes his fingers over the soft pink fur blanket covering the lower half of the bed. He glances up at me. “Seeing you in her room reminds me of her. Her name was Lily. She was sweet and witty, just like you.”

“What happened?” I ask softly, searching his face. “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it,” I add quickly, realizing I might be opening up old wounds.

But Cillian shakes his head. “It’s fine, you can ask me anything,” he says, then looks away from me, his expression hardening. “She was murdered. It was all my fault.”

“What?” I breathe in disbelief. “What do you mean it was your fault?”

“We had a fight over something stupid that I can’t even remember now.” His gaze turns inward as if he’s reliving the memory. “She was dressed to go to the club with her friends, so she grabbed her purse and stalked out of the house. She was missing for days after that. About a week later, the cops found her body in a hotel room. They said the cause of death was drug overdose, even though there were signs of assault.” He scoffs. “Lily never did drugs. Our parents were users, and even as young as she was when they died, she saw what that did to us. She hated drugs with her every fiber of her being, but some motherfucker overdosed her and framed it as suicide.”

He pauses, as if trying to gather himself. “Two days after she was found, I noticed her Facebook page had been deactivated. I revived it and found a blurry photo of some strange man in her deleted files. I knew it was the bastard that killed her.”

My heart twists painfully. I try to think of something to say to ease his pain, but nothing seems appropriate so I just stand there, listening.

“I swore to find the bastard, but it’s been three years of chasing a fucking shadow.”

“Wait…” I murmur, thinking back to the first time I saw him in that dark hallway in the chapel. “Was that why you were at the auction house?”

“Yeah. I finally figured out who he is, and I thought I might see him there. I was right, but the security there was too tight. There was nothing I could do to reach him at the auction, but I’ll find another way.” He clenches his fists, his eyes growing deathly cold. “I’ll chase him to the fiery pits of hell if I have to.”

I walk up to him slowly, gently unfisting his hands and intertwining his fingers with mine. “It’s not your fault, Cillian.” He looks at me but doesn’t say anything, so I continue. “Lily didn’t die because of you.”

His expression remains stoic for a moment, then softens gradually. He raises our joined hands to his lips without taking his eyes off mine. “Thanks for saying that, love,” he says with a small but genuine smile.

I return his smile and then, without thinking, lean in and press my lips to his. It’s meant to be a brief kiss to comfort him, but then his hand slides up my back, pressing my body hard against his as he deepens the kiss, his tongue sliding into my mouth, twirling around my tongue in slow, erotic strokes.

“What was that for?” I ask breathlessly after we pull apart.

“For everything,” he replies cryptically, then places a soft kiss on my forehead.

“Why are you back so early?” I ask, searching his face. “Was your meeting canceled?”

“Yes, love. I canceled it.”

“Why?”

“Because I missed you,” he says with a straight face.

“What?” I laugh, blinking at him in surprise. It hasn’t even been thirty minutes. “You’re serious.”

“I am,” he replies, sliding his hands down my back, his palms cupping my buttocks and squeezing roughly. “I have a fundraiser tonight. Come with me. Be my date.”

I blush, pleasantly surprised by his request. He doesn’t mind being seen with me in public? What does that mean? I want to ask him, but I can’t seem to find the right words to express myself. The last thing I want to do is sound needy or presumptuous and ruin whatever it is we have going on.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to,” he says, pushing a stray strand of hair away from my face.

“Of course, I’d love to,” I say quickly. “But…I don’t really have anything to wear.”

“Don’t worry about that, kitten,” he says, his lips curving upward in a sexy smile that has me swooning internally. “I got you.”