Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

AURORA

I tapped out Claude Debussy's Clair de Lune on my thigh as I watched several butterflies flutter around a patch of goldenrod at the edge of Roman's garden. The bright yellow flowers grew like weeds in the shallow hollows below the hedges. It was a strange sight. The rest of his garden was carefully controlled with ridged hedges and tightly shorn trees lining the white gravel paths. It looked like a mini version of the gardens at Versailles. Not a stone was out of place.

Except for a quiet corner in the back.

There, an unnoticed patch of goldenrod flowers had flourished, almost willfully defying him. I often sat on the grass near them, taking comfort in their bright sunny color and their playful disobedience to Roman's designs.

I turned my face up to the sunshine, feeling its healing warmth. As I closed my eyes, I imagined I was one of the butterflies. Free to roam in the sunshine among the sweet-smelling flowers.

A tear escaped out of the corner of my eye as my cold reality settled over me like a cloud.

I wasn't one of the free butterflies. I was the unfortunate butterfly who had allowed herself to get caught in a killing jar. Each day I spent with Roman, there was less and less oxygen in the jar. Soon, I would be a dead shell of myself, pinned to his wall as a trophy possession and nothing more.

The worst part was I was slowly learning to love my captivity, even though I knew it would end in my own destruction. A sick and twisted part of me was relieved that Roman had found out about my plans to flee to France. I'd even enjoyed his punishment for my defiance. My tortured soul had gloried in every struggle for breath each time I gagged on his cock. What the fuck was wrong with me?

I could feel myself changing. It was as if his coldness was devouring all my warmth. Each day I turned less and less to the light and instead sought the darkness. In the dark, you could be anyone, do anything. There were no rules, no judgments, no tomorrows. I could give in to the thrill I felt when he spanked my ass or ruthlessly bent me over to fuck me from behind. I could fall to my knees and allow him to fuck my mouth until I thought I would pass out. I could relish the feel of his hands around my throat as he thrust between my legs. I could take it all in, all of it, without guilt or recriminations or shame.

In the darkness, I was free.

The only problem was that very darkness was going to kill me. I knew deep in my heart that one day, this fascination with him would end. One day, I would once again crave the light… but it might be too late.

I shuddered. Perhaps that was why I had spent more and more time out in the garden? Perhaps I was seeking the superficial warmth of the sun to replace the warmth of my soul as it shriveled and turned cold from craven lust.

There was no doubt Roman had me in thrall.

I could be weak and blame my age. I could fall back on the idea that he was older, with more money and power, but deep down I knew those were just hollow excuses. Deep down, I knew that if I truly wanted to escape him, I would. I hadn't needed to have those letters from France sent here. I could have asked Eleanor to hide them at her place, but I didn't. I risked being caught by having them sent directly to his lair. Like I was daring him to catch me—and each day I became more bold.

Each day, I tested the limits of his control.

This may have started out as his game, but there was no denying I was now a willing player.

I was getting a sick thrill from pushing him to punish me. I wasn't stupid. I knew I felt guilt and shame from enjoying the pain with the pleasure. By goading him to snap, I could blame him for punishing me, instead of accepting that I liked the pain, that I liked when he spanked me and when he fucked me up the ass until I screamed for mercy. I liked it all, and I wanted more.

My time was running short. If I didn't make a sincere effort to break free, I would be lost, because I knew, despite all evidence to the contrary, I was falling in love with him.

He was arrogant, demanding, hateful, and ruthless, but he was also intelligent, cultured, and the most fascinating man I had ever known. He had a dark charisma that drew me in like a moth to a flame. One moment he was impossibly cruel, the next he was the kind of passionate, all-consuming lover you only read about in romance novels. I constantly felt off-balance and out of control around him. As if I were in a speeding car on a dangerous country lane. My body thrilled at the twists and turns as we raced around each sinister corner, all the while knowing that at any moment, we could crash.

A dark shadow crossed over me, interrupting my thoughts.

Lifting my hand to shade my eyes from the glare, I stared at the shadowed outline of Roman as he towered over me, blocking out the sun.

He stretched out his hand toward me. After a moment's hesitation, I took it. He raised me to my feet and pressed me backward until my body came in contact with a nearby oak tree that guarded the farthest corner of the garden.

Roman leaned in, placing a forearm over my head and toying with a lock of my hair with his other hand. "Say you're sorry."

I sighed. "Roman, you need to understand, I?—"

He tugged on the lock of hair, sending a sharp sting over my scalp. "Say. You're. Sorry."

I stared up into his dark, guarded eyes. Had I actually hurt him with my plans to leave? The thought was inconceivable, but there it was, just a shadow of pain and doubt behind his eyes. I looked down at the hand holding my hair. My eyes widened at the sight of several bleeding scratches over his knuckles. "Your hand! What happened to your hand?"

"Fuck my hand. Say you're sorry. Please, baby. I need to hear it."

"I'm sorry, Roman."

The fucked-up thing was I really was sorry. He was complicated, hurtful, domineering, and impossible, and yet…

Still, I wasn't ready to capitulate completely. "I'm sorry I went behind your back, but Roman, we need to talk about my?—"

He moved a hand to my hip. "No."

"What do you mean, no?"

He claimed my mouth. Slipping his tongue inside as he slipped his hand inside the waistband of my yoga pants. His fingers caught and found my wet heat. Jesus, what this man's touch did to me.

I tried to resist. I pushed against his shoulders. "Roman, you can't just say no. We need to talk about?—"

He moved his mouth over my jaw and down my neck before taking my earlobe into his mouth and biting down. Not enough to draw blood, just enough to hurt. "I said no, Aurora. You leaving me is not up for discussion. Full stop."

His fingers pushed inside of me. I was still sore from earlier, but my body didn't seem to care. As he thrust his fingers in deep, he reached for the zipper of his trousers. I covered his hand with mine. "We can't. Someone will see us."

His gaze hardened. Without saying a word, he swung me around until I was lying flat on the ground. I flipped over and tried to crawl away. He caught me by the hair. Yanking me back until my ass bumped into his hips. He pulled my yoga pants and panties down until their waistbands stretched between my thighs, keeping a hand in my hair. I could hear the ominous sound of his zipper lowering. I clenched my thighs as a rush of pained anticipation ran over me. God help me, I loved being manhandled like this.

There was so much power and domination in his touch.

The head of his cock pushed between my legs.

"Beg me to fuck you," he growled.

Without hesitation, I moaned, "Fuck me, Roman."

Before I had even gotten the words out, he speared into me. Driving me forward until my cheek slammed against the ground. He pulled me back onto my knees by my hair. With a restraining hand on my hip and the other in my hair, he plowed into me without mercy. Taking, not giving, he used his cock as a weapon. My body rocked back and forth, absorbing each thrust as my fingernails dug into the warm earth for purchase.

The buzzing of the bees stopped while the last weak rays of sunshine slipped past the horizon, as if Mother Nature did not want to witness the debauchery of Roman fucking me in her garden.

Leaning down on one elbow, I thrust a hand between my legs and teased my clit. I could feel his hard, wet shaft brush past my fingertips with each thrust. My pussy clenched around him, my inner muscles contracting with my release.

Roman let out a low growl as he thrust in and stilled, releasing his come deep inside of me. Without saying a word, he stood. Towering over me, his body in shadow from the setting sun, he pushed his cock back inside his trousers and slowly raised the zipper as he looked down at me. "Clean yourself up. We leave for dinner in an hour."

I rose to my knees, wincing as I did so. Bracing a hand against a nearby tree trunk, I stood up. On the ground before me lay the trampled and bruised remains of the goldenrod I had so admired just moments earlier.