Chapter 139: Secret desires r18

"I did not," she insisted, turning her head toward the window, though she immediately winced as the movement made the dark car seem to spin.

She slumped sideways, her shoulder leaning heavily against his arm. Her mind was a chaotic, loud mess.

Memories of Kian’s sweet, fake promises mixed with Klara’s sharp words about Aaron’s women, mixing together until her head throbbed.

’He can sleep with whoever he wanted,’ she thought bitterly, her fingers twisting into the leather of the seat. ’I don’t care. I don’t.’

She wanted to hate him. She wanted to bite him for dragging her away like a prize, but as the car glided smoothly through the dark city streets, the heat radiating from his large body felt suffocatingly comforting.

Her skin felt hot, a restless, prickling sensation washing over her thighs and stomach.

The alcohol made every touch feel magnified, the slide of her dress against her legs, the steady pressure of his hand resting on her knee to keep her from sliding.

By the time the car pulled into the estate, Isabella had gone quiet. Her chin rested against her chest, her breathing heavy and rhythmic.

Aaron assumed she had finally passed out. He got out of the car, opened her door, and carefully unbuckled her before scooping her up into his arms.

Her head rolled back against his neck, her soft dark hair brushing his neck as he carried her up to the top floor.

He carried her down the quiet hallway and into her bedroom, setting her down gently on the edge of the large, plush mattress.

He reached down and unbuckled the delicate straps of her high heels, sliding them off her feet and tossing them onto the floor.

Isabella stirred, her eyes fluttering open, though she clearly wasn’t fully awake. Her mind was floating in a thick, warm fog, aware of where she was, but operating entirely on impulse.

"Aaron?" she murmured, her voice raspy.

"I’m here," he said softly, leaning down to reach behind her back to unzip the tight closure of her formal dress, loosening the stiff fabric so she could breathe comfortably. He left her in the soft, sheer silk slip she wore underneath. "Lie back down."

"Water," she muttered, her throat feeling like sandpaper. "I want water."

"I’ll get it. Stay still," Aaron instructed gently, brushing a strand of dark hair away from her damp forehead before turning and stepping out of the room, leaving the door slightly ajar as he walked down the hall to the kitchen.

Inside the dimly lit bedroom, Isabella lay back against the massive pile of pillows. The moment he left, her drunken mind completely wiped the interaction.

She forgot she had asked for water. She forgot he was coming back.

All she knew was that her body felt like it was on fire.

The alcohol coursed through her veins, turning the bitter emotional ache in her chest into a desperate, heavy throb low in her belly.

Klara’s words echoed in her ears again—’men like Aaron don’t become saints.’ The image of his large, calloused hands touching someone else, holding someone else the way he held her on the terrace, made a sharp wave of jealousy mixed with desire wash straight down between her legs.

She didn’t want to think about Kian. She didn’t want to think about loss or heartbreak or her sightless eyes. She just wanted relief.

A soft, breathy gasp escaped her lips into the quiet room.

Acting on pure, unadulterated impulse, Isabella reached up with trembling hands.

Her fingers slid beneath the thin strap of her gown, pushing the fabric down until her round, pale breasts were exposed to the cool air of the room. Her nipples were tight, hard peaks, reacting instantly to the chill.

She touched herself, her thumbs flicking lightly over the sensitive, rosy tips. A shiver ran down her spine, a low moan catching in her throat.

Her mind filled with the sudden, vivid memory of Aaron’s scent, the memory of his sharp blue eyes staring down at her the first time they met, the heavy weight of his body pressed against hers in the dark.

"Aaron..." she whimpered softly, not even realizing she had voiced his name.

The heat between her thighs was unbearable now, a heavy, damp ache demanding attention. Isabella shifted onto her side, bending her knees slightly.

Her left hand slid down her stomach, passing over the smooth silk of her dress, reaching down between her thighs.

She slid her fingers beneath the lace border of her panties. The moment her fingertips brushed against her own folds, she let out a soft, helpless whine. She was soaking wet. The slippery, hot moisture coated her fingers instantly.

Driven by the overwhelming rush of pleasure, Isabella parted her legs further, arching her back as she slid two fingers deep inside herself.

"Ah... nngh," she moaned into the empty room, her face half-buried in the soft down pillow.

She began to move her hand, her knuckles wet as she pushed her fingers in and out, her thumb rubbing against her swollen clit.

The sensation was intense, sending sharp electric sparks straight up her spine.

She rolled slightly onto her stomach, her hips lifting, pushing her round ass up into the air as she chased the mounting tension, her fingers working deeper and faster inside her wet heat.

Out in the hallway, Aaron walked back toward the bedroom holding a tall glass of ice water.

His mind was heavy with the events of the evening... the lingering threat of Kian, the subtle political moves at the party, and the persistent worry over the blind, stubborn woman resting in his house.

He reached the bedroom door and pushed it open quietly, intending not to startle her if she had fallen asleep.

The soft glow of the hallway light spilled through the crack of the door, casting a warm beam across the dark hardwood floor and onto the king-sized bed.

Aaron stopped dead in his tracks.

His brain completely stalled.

Isabella’s back partially turned to the door, her silk slip pushed up past her hips, leaving her bare, pale bottom completely exposed in the dim light. Wet sounds filled the room and Isabella’s face was buried deep into the white pillow, her dark hair wild and messy around her neck.

And she was lost inside the pleasure.

Aaron watched, entirely frozen, as her hand worked frantically between her legs. Her fingers were glistening, coated in her own slick juices as she continued to slip her fingers in up to the knuckles with wet desperate thrusts.

Her hole twitched forward with every slide of her hand, her back arching, a loud, needy moan escaping her throat and echoing clearly in the quiet room.

"Ah... fuck... mmm..." she whimpered, completely unaware that the man she was fantasizing about was standing less than ten feet away, holding a glass of water, his knuckles turning white as he stared at her bare, glistening body.

....

Aaron stood entirely frozen in the doorway, his chest heavy as he stared at the woman writhing on the mattress.

The glass of cold water trembled slightly in his hand. Painful heat surged through his groin, pulling his trousers tight as his body reacted instantly to the view of her bare, glistening skin.

His mind raced, a sharp battle between his dark desire and his sense of restraint. She was blind. She was thoroughly drunk. She had no idea he had walked into the room.

He swallowed hard, forcing his eyes away from her wet thighs.

Slowly, cautiously, he set the water glass down on the small wooden table beside the door, making sure the glass didn’t make a single sound against the wood.

He took a quiet step backward, intent on leaving the room before he lost his mind completely and did something they both would regret.

But as his foot touched the hallway carpet, Isabella’s movements on the bed grew wilder.

Her hips snapped upward against her own hand, her fingers plunging inside herself with a wet, heavy rhythm. Her moans turned into desperate, ragged gasps, her small teeth digging into the corner of the pillow to muffle the sound.

"Aaron..." she gasped into the pillow, her voice raw and dripping with dark need.

Aaron froze dead in his tracks, his foot hovering over the threshold. His heart slammed against his ribs like a sledgehammer.

"Ah... fuck..." she whimpered, her body going stiff as a powerful climax tore through her.

A sharp, breathless cry tore from her throat, and her body shuddered violently. A gush of slick wetness spilled over her knuckles, coating her inner thighs as she rubbed her clit, her entire frame trembling on the sheet.

Hearing his own name slip from her lips at the exact second she spilled over her own fingers hit him like a physical blow.

A slow, wicked grin spread across his handsome face.

....

The sun had fully risen before Isabella woke up.

In her mind, the dark bedroom was still burning hot with her vision intact.

She was on her back, one wrist pinned gently above her head, her gown pushed up past her waist.

Aaron was looming over her, his broad shoulders blocking out the light, his piercing blue eyes locked onto her trembling lips.

"Show me," his deep voice commanded in her mind, rough and demanding. "Touch yourself for me, Isabella."

And in the dark madness of the dream, she had obeyed him without a second thought.

She had reached down with her free hand, sliding her fingers Into her own heat right in front of his eyes, whimpering as he watched her fingered herself toward the edge, her whole body aching to feel him inside her...

Isabella shot upright in bed, a loud gasp tearing from her throat as her eyes snapped open to total darkness.

"Oh!" a young woman’s voice squeaked near the side of the bed. A ceramic cup rattled loudly against a metallic tray. "Miss Kingston! You scared me!"

Isabella sat frozen, her chest heaving as cool air hit her bare shoulders.

Sweat clung to her hairline. Her heart beat wildly in her throat, her body still humming with the lingering, electric ghost of a climax that had been cut short by her sudden awakening.

"Are... are you alright?" the maid asked nervously, setting the tray down onto the nightstand with a soft clatter.

Isabella blinked her unseeing green eyes into the empty darkness of her room, her mind struggling to catch up.

The dream was so heavy, so detailed, that her skin still felt hot where dream-Aaron had touched her.

She couldn’t remember what his face looked like nowadays, but the rest of him... the heavy weight of his chest, the scent of his skin, the dark rumble of his voice had felt terrifyingly real.

A deep, burning flush crept up her neck, turning her cheeks bright red.

’It was just a dream,’ she told herself frantically, her hands gripping the soft duvet. ’Just a stupid, disgusting dream because of the wine.’

Before she could dwell on it any longer, a sharp, violent throb pounded behind her eyes.

A wave of intense nausea hit her stomach so hard she had to swallow back a gasp, clutching her forehead as her head spun out of control.

"Miss Isabella?" the maid called out again, her voice softer this time. "Can you hear me?"

Isabella forced her hands away from her face and drew a shaky breath, trying to regain her composure. "Yes... yes, I’m sorry. I just... had a strange dream."

"I brought you some warm tea and a light brunch," the maid said gently. "Master Aaron ordered us to prepare something light for your stomach."

Isabella paused, her brows pulling together as her memory slowly scraped together the events of the previous night.

She remembered the party. She remembered Klara’s bold words about Aaron’s private life.

She remembered drowning the bottle of red wine out of pure, childish spite. Then... the car ride.

She remembered insulting Aaron in the backseat, calling him every bad name she could think of while he chuckled softly in her ear.

After that, everything was a complete blank.

She shifted in the bed, the smooth fabric of her nightwear sliding against her legs. She reached down, her fingers brushing against a light, loose cotton nightgown, definitely not the heavy dress she had worn to the party.

"How... how did I get into bed?" Isabella asked, her voice tight with rising embarrassment. "Did you change my clothes last night?"