Aurora’s POV
I hated him. I hated every breath he took and every secret he kept behind that mask, but my body was a traitor. It didn’t care about my revenge; it only cared about the way he was making feel.
He pulled back for a second, his chest heaving. The dark mask was inches from my face. "You were going to let them," he hissed, his voice thick with a dark, twisted pain. "You were really going to let them put their hands on you."
"I told you," I gasped, my lungs burning. I wanted to spit in his face, but my voice ca out weak. "I’m yours. Do whatever you want."
A low growl ripped from his throat. He grabbed a black silk tie and snapped it across my eyes, tying it tight. The world went pitch black. I couldn’t see, but I could feel everything—the sll of leather, the scent of the whiskey on his breath, and the heat coming off him like a furnace.
He didn’t waste ti. He shoved down onto the desk, my chest hitting the cold wood. He grabbed my hair, pulling my head back so my neck was exposed. I felt his hot mouth drop to my chest. He caught one of my nipples between his teeth, biting down just hard enough to make arch my back before he began to suck it hard. I let out a loud moan, my toes curling against the floor as the sharp pull sent a bolt of pleasure straight to my core.
I hated how much I liked it. I hated that even as I planned his death, my heart was thudding for his touch.
"Please," I whimpered, but he didn’t stop. He moved to the other side, his tongue swirling around the peak before he pulled the whole length of my nipple into his mouth, sucking so deep it felt like he was trying to swallow whole.
He flipped over roughly, pinning my hands above my head with one of his. He was raw and completely unhinged. He didn’t use any protection; he didn’t use any oil. He just lined himself up and pushed inside in one heavy, brutal stroke.
I scread into the empty room, my body stretching to take all of him. It was thick, hard, and pulsing. He began to move, his pace fast and punishing. Every ti he hit , my body slid across the desk, the wood scraping my skin. He wasn’t being tender. He was fucking with a fury that made my head spin.
"Tell ," he growled, his voice vibrating inside . "Whose are you?"
"Yours," I sobbed, my hands clawing at the desk. "I’m yours, Raymond."
For a mont, the mission disappeared. The revenge and my family’s blood were gone, replaced by the sheer power of him. He let out a guttural sound and moved faster. He pulled my legs up onto his shoulders, opening up completely so he could go even deeper. The sound of our skin slapping together filled the room, raw and loud. He was hamring into , his breath coming in ragged gasps.
I was losing my mind. My clit was rubbing against him with every thrust, and the friction was starting to burn in the best way possible. I felt the climax building—a dark, violent wave that threatened to drown . I hated him for being the only one who could make feel this alive, even while I wanted him dead.
He shifted again, dragging to the edge of the desk and forcing to stand on shaky legs while he stayed behind . He bent over, his hands bruising my hips as he drove into from behind. This style was deeper, hitting a spot that made my vision explode into white sparks behind the blindfold.
"Look at what you do to ," he hissed, though I couldn’t see him. He was shaking, his muscles tight as iron.
I felt the tension in his body reach a breaking point. He was right on the edge, his muscles vibrating against like a live wire. I waited for the final surge, but instead, he let out a frustrated growl and pulled out abruptly.
The sudden cold made whimper, a sound I hated myself for making. My sight was still dark, the silk tie pressing against my eyelids as he hauled off the desk. My legs were like jelly, but he didn’t care. He dragged across the room toward the bed.
He sat back against the headboard and pulled onto him. I gasped as I felt his thick, pulsing cock slide deep into my pussy again. Even after all that ti on the desk, the sheer size of him filled so completely it felt like he was reaching my heart.
"Move," he commanded, his voice raw and broken.
I began to ride him, my hips rolling as I sank onto his length over and over. I hated him. I hated that I was doing exactly what he wanted. But the feeling was too much. The friction was perfect, and the way he filled every inch of made my head spin.
Suddenly, his hands ca up, cupping my face with a strange, desperate intensity. He pulled down and crashed his mouth against mine.
Fuck.
Everything vanished. The revenge, the poison, the dead-end mission—it all burned up in the heat of that kiss. I didn’t just let him; I kissed him back with a passion that terrified . My tongue danced with his, and for a mont, I wasn’t a victim and he wasn’t a monster. We were just two souls drowning in each other.
The rhythm shifted. The brutal, punishing pace slowed down, turning into sothing agonizingly deep and passionate. The raw violence was gone, replaced by a heavy, soul-crushing pleasure that felt far more dangerous. It felt like lovemaking, and that realization made my heart ache.
"Focus. Don’t forget why you’re here." I told myself. "This is just a ans to an end." But it felt as though I was lying to myself.
He flipped onto my back, pinning to the mattress with the weight of his body. He stayed inside , moving with a slow, grinding pressure that made moan his na into his mouth. Every ti he pushed deep, he kissed again, his lips soft and searching.
"Why?" I whispered against his lips, my mind a foggy ss of pleasure and confusion.
Why did this feel so familiar? The way he held my hands, the way his chest felt against my breasts, the scent of him... it was a mory I couldn’t quite grasp. I hated him, I reminded myself. I hated Raymond.
But as he moved inside , stretching my pussy with that slow, perfect rhythm, I couldn’t find the strength to fight it. I loved the way he touched . I loved the way he made forget the world. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, surrendering to the traitorous bliss of the man who was supposed to be my enemy.
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