The hot liquid burns a little against the sting of his handprint on my flesh. I bite my lower lip, relishing the sensation.

Is it supposed to feel as if I’ve ascended out of my body and have just now come back?

This must be what it means to be fucked.

Literally.

Figuratively.

When I think Jonathan will release me, he pulls me up by the hair, his hand still caging my throat, and whispers hot, sinister words at my ear, “The only reason you haven’t been owned before is because I hadn’t come along yet.”

23

Aurora

There’s sore and there’s the inability to move.

I’m in the latter category.

No kidding.

I rolled to my side to silence the alarm and stopped when stinging pain exploded through my whole body. It’s worse between my thighs and on my arse.

That was half an hour ago.

I probably need to call in sick or something. Jonathan broke me with his cock. I knew that thing wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near me.

Whenever I shift and feel the sting of pain, memories from last night rush to the front of my mind and my core tingles as if he’s still inside me. Like he’s still owning every inch of me and driving into me with feral power.

The control and ruthlessness he emanated still cause hot blood to rush through my veins. I never knew I needed that savage brutality until I had Jonathan – or he had me, to be more accurate.

I kind of passed out after we were finished. I don’t recall how my arse was cleaned from his cum, but I faintly remember moaning at the feel of soft cloth on my behind and between my legs.

Then there was the distinctive click of the door as his woodsy scent disappeared from around me.

It’s not that I want him to cuddle me or anything. We have separate rooms for a reason, and while I’m never allowed in his, I liked the arrangement of having my own space.

So why do I feel abandoned?

That’s stupid – utterly so. What the hell was I expecting? A bloody connection or something? I’ve already decided that it won’t happen in this lifetime. Just because Jonathan revived my body, doesn’t mean I’ll want other things from him.

I stopped wanting things that day when I stared up at the pouring sky and begged to be woken up, yet never was.

My guilt doesn’t help either.

The fact that I desire Jonathan when I shouldn’t cuts through my ribcage like the knife from that day. But this phantom pain is more stabbing than the real one. It’s not only a betrayal to my mission to unravel the truth, it’s also a betrayal to Alicia and to who I am.

For the life of me, I can't stop my body from craving him, no matter how much I try to.

And I have tried.

Maybe you're not trying hard enough.

Sighing, I reach for my phone, I’ll call in sick and work from here. Layla will shower me with her ‘daddy’ jokes if I go to work walking like I've been thoroughly fucked.

Not that I can even get up, let alone shower so I can go to work. Maybe it will get better with time.

The door opens and I think it’s Margot. But then I recall she always knocks before entering my room. The only one who barges in without warning is the tyrant of the house.

Sure enough, Jonathan strides inside with that infuriating confidence that he wears like a second skin.

He’s dressed in an elegant black suit, his jacket closed. Who knew there was an entirely different world hidden underneath that brutally elegant look? The cloth moulds to his well-built frame, outlining his hard muscles. Muscles I ogled last night, touched, and grabbed onto while —

I shut the door on those thoughts, refusing to get caught up in him all over again.

“You’re five minutes late for breakfast and you didn’t answer my email.”

People normally say good morning, but Jonathan reminds you of how you breached his rules.

The man is such a charmer. And I mean that in the most sarcastic way possible.

When I don’t reply, his tone shifts to that authoritative one. “Have you become a glutton for punishment, Aurora? Is that it?”

I face away from him. “I’m not feeling well.”

“What do you mean you’re not feeling well? You were fine last night.”

“Well, I’m not today.”

“You still have the attitude, so you can’t be too unwell.”

The bastard. “Well, I am. Now, leave me alone.”

“You need to quit the habit of chasing me out, Aurora. That will never happen unless it’s on my terms. Understood?”

I purse my lips but say nothing.

“What did I say about answering my questions?”

“Fine. Okay. As you wish, your majesty.”

“I thought you weren’t feeling well, yet it seems like you fancy a mouth fuck.”

“I’ll never let you do that.” I might like the pain he lashes out, but degradation is another thing altogether.

“I’m the one who decides whatever the fuck I want to do with you. After all, you’re my property.”

“I’ll never do it willingly, so if you’re in the mood to force me, go for it.”

He narrows his eyes, but seems to let it go. It’s the deceptive type of reassurance he shows now and again. As for what he’ll actually do? Yeah, no one knows that.

“Now tell me, why are you feeling unwell?” He sits on the edge of the bed and places his knuckles on my forehead. “You’re not warm.”

If I wasn’t before, I am now. I suck in a breath at the way his skin burns on mine and swiftly pull away.

“Can’t you leave me alone?”

“That’s a no. You should’ve learnt by now that I always get what I want, so you might as well tell me.”

“Arrogant prick,” I mutter under my breath.

“I heard that. And I’m not arrogant, I’m goal-oriented. Arrogance comes from false beliefs I don’t have.”

That is true. Jonathan is the type who never starts anything unless he already knows the end result.

“I’m waiting, Aurora.”

“Don’t you have work?”

“You also have work and your black belt friend must be throwing a search party, but you’re not making a move to go. This is your last chance to freely divulge information before I resort to my methods.”

“And what are those? Spanking me?”

“Not in your current situation, but I’ll take a rain cheque on that.”

“You’re impossible, did you know that?”

“That doesn’t answer my question. You’re wasting both our time.”

“I’m sore, okay?”

He pauses, but his expression remains blank, non-existent even. “Huh.”

Huh?

I don't know what I expected, but ‘huh’ wasn’t it.

“How sore are you?”

“Enough that I can’t move.”

“Should you see a doctor?”

“No. It’s not as bad as that.”

“Then what do you need?”

“Rest, Jonathan. Ever heard of the word, or was that erased from your workaholic dictionary?”

“Very funny.” His face is caught in that snobbish state, which means he doesn’t find it amusing at all.