Page 40 of Wrecked By My Alien Mentor

I don’t hesitate. I sink to the floor, the cool wood pressing against my knees. The thrill of submission courses through me, my heart pounding in my chest. He strides forward, each step deliberate, until he’s towering over me. His hand brushesthrough my hair, fingers tangling gently, possessively. I lean into his touch, my lips brushing against the fabric of his pants, feeling the heat of him, the growing hardness beneath.

“My girl did a good job today,” he purrs, his voice dripping with approval.

I can’t help but smile, my cheeks flushing. “Thank you, Sir,” I murmur, nuzzling against him.

“So I’m taking you dancing.”

My head snaps up, eyes wide. “Dancing?” The word comes out breathless, excited.

He chuckles, a deep, rumbling sound that vibrates through me. “Yes, dancing. But first—” His fingers tighten in my hair, pulling just enough to make me gasp. “We need to get you dressed.”

He tugs me to my feet, not giving me a moment to steady myself. I stumble after him, his grip in my hair firm but not painful.

“Strip,” he commands, his voice sharp, leaving no room for argument.

I fumble with the buttons of my blouse, my fingers trembling with anticipation. The fabric slides off my shoulders, pooling at my feet. My skirt follows, then my heels. His eyes never leave me, that intense stare making me feel like I’m the only thing in the universe that matters.

By the time we reach the bedroom, I’m down to my bra and panties, both of them black lace because I’d hoped this day would end like this. His hand releases my hair, and I turn to face him, my chest rising and falling with quick, shallow breaths.

“Good girl,” he says, his voice softening just enough to make my heart swell.

“Turn. Hands on the wall.” Orion’s voice is low, commanding, and I obey without hesitation. The cool plaster presses against my palms as I brace myself, shivering as I feelthe heat of him behind me. The rustle of leather fills the air, and then the smooth, firm touch of a corset encircles my waist. “Breathe in.”

I inhale deeply, my ribs expanding as he tightens the laces. The pressure is firm, unyielding, but not painful—just enough to remind me of his control. My back straightens instinctively, the corset forcing my posture into something elegant, something refined. I feel the tug of each lace, the deliberate tightening, until I’m perfectly bound. “How does it feel?” His breath is warm against my ear.

“Perfect, Sir,” I murmur, my voice shaky with anticipation. I can still move, still dance, but I’ll be acutely aware of the constriction all night. Just as he intended.

He kneels behind me, his hands sliding down my legs as he rolls stockings up my thighs. The soft material clings to my skin, held in place by delicate garters. I hear the click of heels before I feel them, the straps wrapping around my ankles and calves. “These stay on,” he commands. The sound of padlocks snapping into place sends a flush of heat to my cheeks. Most people won’t notice, but those who do will understand exactly what it means.

His hands drift up to my neck, fastening a black leather choker with a red ruby pendant. The leather is snug, the weight of the jewel pressing just enough to remind me of his claim on me. “Now this.” He holds the gown up, and I turn to face him. The fabric is sleek, black, and scandalously minimal. The plunging neckline and high slits on both sides leave little to the imagination. “Step in.”

I do as he says, my heart racing as he helps me into the dress. The fabric glides over my skin, the corset and stockings hidden beneath the elegant exterior. Orion steps back to admire his work, his purple eyes raking over me with a possessive intensity. “You’re flawless.”

The limo is waiting outside, and he guides me to it with a hand on the curve of my back. The moment the door closes, his lips are on mine, his hands roaming over the exposed skin of my dress. I gasp as his fingers trace the edge of the corset, his touch sending jolts of electricity through me. He kisses me deeply, his tongue teasing mine until I’m panting, my body aching with need.

“Simmer, little beauty,” he whispers in my ear, his breath hot against my skin. I bite my lip, trying to calm the storm he’s stirred inside me. The limo pulls up to the dance hall, and he takes my hand, leading me inside with the confidence of a man who knows he owns the room—and the woman on his arm.

The moment his hand settles on my back, I’m electrified. Orion’s grip is firm, possessive, and his body against mine is intoxicating. The orchestra begins, the first strains of the tango filling the grand hall with a sultry rhythm that matches the pounding of my heart. He leads with confidence, his steps precise, his movements commanding. I follow, my body melding to his as if we’ve danced this way a thousand times before.

Our eyes lock, and the intensity in his gaze makes my breath catch. The press of his thigh against mine is deliberate, his dominance undeniable. I feel the hard muscles of his legs, the strength in his arms as he spins me, my body arching in perfect sync with his. The music builds, and so does the tension between us.

He dips me low, his hand sliding down to grip my thigh, the slit in my dress making the move scandalously exposing. I flush, the heat of embarrassment mixing with the thrill of his dominance. “Relax, Cora,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down my spine. “Let them look. They’ll never have what’s mine.”

The words ignite something deep inside me, and I lean into his hold, letting him guide me through the dance with abandon.He lifts me effortlessly, my body spinning through the air, the fabric of my dress catching the light and revealing far too much. I hear the sharp intake of breath from the audience, the whispers, the murmurs. Yet, I don’t care. All I care about is the way he’s looking at me, the way his hands feel on my skin, the way he’s pushing me to the edge of control.

The music crescendos, and he dips me again, his lips brushing against my ear. “I’m going to fuck you hard, Cora. Right fucking now.”

My gasp is swallowed by the applause, the clapping and cheers echoing in my ears as he pulls me upright. His grip on my hand is firm, unyielding, and I stumble slightly as he drags me off the dance floor.

“Orion,” I whisper, my voice trembling with a mix of desperation and anticipation.

“Not here,” he growls. He pulls me through the crowd, his stride purposeful, his presence commanding.

The heat between us is unbearable, the ache in my body undeniable. I can’t wait to feel him, to give myself over to him completely. He stops briefly, his hand tightening around mine as he glances back at me, his eyes dark with desire.

“Ready, little beauty?”

“Always, Sir,” I reply, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me.

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