Goldsin (The Chrysophilist Trilogy Book 1)
Goldsin: Chapter 20

“Five,” I count.

I’m giving her ten seconds up there before I put a stop to this little show.

I can’t drag my gaze away from her body. The way it sways, catching the neon lights, and how delicate her skin seems—it’s all too much for me, enough to make me forget about last night.

The dips of her hips scream at me to dig my fingers in, to squeeze the indents as I pound my dick between those soft legs.

Five more seconds. I can watch, but not all night.

I need her. Like I’ve never needed anything else in my life.

Her fingers pull at the hem of her shirt, and in no time, white lace greets my eyes, daring for me to get up there and take her for myself.

“Six.”

I’ve been watching her the whole night. I saw the way Victoria cornered her the moment she set foot in this place. She spoke sweet words to her and managed to get her drunk. Then up there.

But I know the reason she’s up there isn’t because of Victoria or the alcohol coursing through her veins. She’s brave enough to stand on a stage half-naked for one simple reason . . .

Aurelia’s shirt gets tossed to the crowd and is caught between Victoria’s claws. She lets everyone know how euphoric she is at catching it by pressing her nose into the material, inhaling it with such desperation I can see it from where I’m standing.

“Seven,” I growl, jaw clenching.

“Are you talking to yourself, mate?” Emeric’s annoying voice appears by my side. “You are such a weirdo—ooh!” He notices Aurelia. “Quite the show, huh?”

I barely spare him any attention. Next time I’ll refrain from telling him where I’m headed for the night.

He didn’t text me much after our arrival, only mentioning how Eleanora flaked on him. Eleanora hasn’t texted Aurelia since then—I’ve watched her the whole time to be sure.

I wonder how Emeric doesn’t go insane with how secretive that girl can be.

“Eleanora would love this place.” He turns on the spot, admiring the club. “She’s always had a thing for the color purple.”

“Sure,” I mutter, not really listening to what he’s saying.

Aurelia is grinding her perky ass on the pole. She arches her body, arms locked around the upper part of the pole above her head. She’s wearing nothing but her lingerie and black boots.

She knows what she’s doing.

“Fuck,” Emeric breathes.

And I smirk.

“Yeah, Emeric. Take her all in.”

There’s nothing I love more than when others appreciate her beauty—as long as they keep their hands to themselves.

In one swift movement she gives us her back. Her legs are slightly parted, so fucking inviting. She peeks over her shoulder, her lips curving to the side as she gives me a daring look.

She laces her fingers over her back, reaching for her bra clip.

She’s about to push the boundaries she knows I’ve established in my mind.

“Eight, nine, ten.” The last three seconds are up. “Looks like you’re mine now.”

In a heartbeat I step forward and up the stairs. She’s unclipping her bra and letting it fall to the floor as I move behind her. I’m blocking the crowd’s view of her breasts when she turns to them.

I hear the crowd boo at me, but I don’t care. She’s so close right now I can smell her sweet perfume—so different from the provocative act she’s putting on—but most importantly, I can see the smirk she’s wearing.

This is the reaction she was hoping for.

“Show’s over, golden one.”

Her gaze is intoxicating, her plump lower lip getting stuck between her teeth as she looks up at me. “Finally,” she almost purrs.

I don’t waste another second. I reach for her arm and throw her over my shoulder. The action gets a giggle out of her that constricts around my hardening dick.

Weaving through the crowd, I search for a private room.

I know there are numerous private rooms here, but with the amount of alcohol being passed around, there won’t be any available by now. And I don’t have time to waste.

I need a different kind of private room. Any will suffice as long as I’m buried deep inside of her.

A waitress passes by, and I snatch the tray of cocaine from her hands, then I head toward the row of closed doors.

Aurelia is still giggling as she sends soft punches to my back without effort. If she’s trying to make me believe she isn’t dripping-wet from the way I manhandled her, she’s in for a rude awakening.

I walk down the corridor until a sign catches my attention: “Employees Only.” I try the doorknob and shake my head when I hear it click open. If you don’t want someone to enter, you should lock the door.

Although that’s never stopped me.

I stretch my fingers across the wall, searching until I feel the little switch and flip it. A light flickers on, making the same sound mosquitoes make when they get fried by those bug zappers.

“Julian . . .” Aurelia giggles before a hint of worry strains her voice. “I-I think I might puke if you don’t put me down.”

The doors lead to what appears to be a basement. When we reach the bottom, I put Aurelia down as I contain the chuckle threatening to come out at the way her hands jump to cover her breasts from my prying stare.

Like she wasn’t just stripping naked in front of one hundred sets of eyes.

“Bit late for modesty, don’t you think?”

She doesn’t answer me. She’s too busy glancing around.

We aren’t in a storage unit like I anticipated. This is an old indoor theme park under renovation. Which makes my skin crawl.

There are barrier planks outside a semi-deflated bounce house. Dust and flakes of dried paint cover most of the floor. Big, dull cartoon statues smile with crooked teeth, and there’s a jungle gym missing most of its monkey bars.

This place is⁠—

“Creepy.” Aurelia breaks the silence. A shiver runs down her body.

This place is dry and cold, but I know that shiver came from the eerie ghosts of people laughing and having fun in this room.

“This place is like something out of a horror movie. Why would they have an abandoned indoor theme park?”

“They’re renovating.” I tilt my chin toward the equipment. “It could get turned into anything.”

She squeezes her arms tighter. The movement pushes her breasts higher up, and I see the pinks of her nipples peeking between her fingers.

“So why did you bring me down here? Just to comment on my lack of modesty?”

Ah, so she did hear me.

“Partly.” I smirk then place the tray of cocaine on the yellow seat of a spring horse, taking out the pocketknife to arrange the powder. “And partly to talk about your little striptease upstairs. Victoria dared you to do it, didn’t she?”

“I don’t see any harm in it.”

I scoff. “Of course Victoria dared you.”

Aurelia narrows her eyes.

Carefully, I separate the powder into long lines, licking the remnants off the blade. “I saw her sniff your shirt. She wants you.” I peer up at her to catch her reaction.

Did she already figure it out?

Her eyes widen, two emerald gems peeking out at me.

I guess she didn’t.

“You can use that to your advantage, you know,” I tell her.

“I . . .” She chews on her lip then falters when she sees what I’m doing. “What are you doing!” Her voice rises.

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“You don’t even know where that came from! And besides, this place is . . . sad. It’s just sad to do it in a place like this.” She wiggles her shoulders as a way of pointing to our surroundings since her arms are preoccupied with covering what’s mine from me.

Sad? How can a well-loved playground be sad? There’s nothing sad about a place full of memories; a place that once was useful. “Sad” is something that remains the same through time.

“Doesn’t mean we can’t have some fun with it.”

I steadily stand up from my crouched position. With the knife twirling between my fingers, I tilt my head to the side, deciding which part of her I want to scar first.

A little game—a taste before I get to feast on my meal.

Her steps mimic mine. I take one forward; she takes one back. She can’t escape me. And truthfully? I don’t think she wants to.

She may be scared, but she’s savoring it. Just as much as I am.

The back of her legs collide with a ping-pong table, putting a stop to her sad attempt to escape. Her hands spring up, slamming on my chest as I chuckle and push forward, curving her body until she lets her back fall on the flat surface.

I cage her under my body and flick her nipple with the tip of the blade, growing hungry at the little sounds escaping from those rosy lips.

“Open your eyes,” I order.

Her eyelashes flutter open on command, and my dick stirs at her compliance.

“Now don’t move.”

I retrieve the tray of cocaine. Trapping her back against the table, I use the knife to collect the powder and place it on her body, this time in shorter lines so I can take more of it.

I’m turning her into my own personal canvas. A perverse form of body art.

“Thanks for the fantastic idea,” I mock. “This already feels way less sad.”

“You’re a psychopath,” she breathes, breath hitching when I prick the skin with the point of the blade, mixing her blood with the coke.

“Keep the insults coming, love.” I lean down next to her ear and whisper, “They only turn me on more.” Then I take the first line of cocaine from her collarbone, nose burning as I incline my head and ride the first hit.

Not enough.

Moving down her body, I lick the line of her breast, sucking on the skin once the powder is gone until it turns red. She threads her fingers through my hair, and before she gets to pull me away from her, I pin her hands over her head.

I lick every part of her, sucking until the powder disappears and I’m desperate for more.

“Please,” she moans. Begs.

And I lose control.

Images from the last time she pleaded with me penetrate my mind.

“God, this wouldn’t hit as hard without your body to taste,” I groan.

This isn’t enough.

“Fuck it.” I brush the last lines off her body and onto the floor. “This.” I bite the underside of her breast, and she squeals. “This is my drug.”

I bite, lick, taste every inch of her.

Her heavy breathing and rising moans are all I can hear as I spread my tongue down her navel until I reach the only patch of material still on her body.

Her body arcs, following my touch.

Needy. Desperate. Mine.

But there’s something I need to do first. Before I can indulge in her.

“Lucian is having a party tomorrow night.” I kiss around the hem of her underwear. “You need to be there. It’s an order.”

She tries to speak, but only shaky breaths reach my ears as I let my tongue run over the material, teeth delicately latching onto her clit before I do it again.

I free her arms and play with her nipple, making her body tremble. Her fingers replace my hair in no time, and she tugs, failing to pull me from her.

“C-can’t, s-sorry,” she breathes.

I groan before bringing my lips back between her legs. This time I bite, making her scream as her head rolls backward and she pulls me closer with her fingers. I grab her hands away from my hair, pinning them back above her head.

If she wants me, she’ll have to beg for it.

I’m back on top of her, and I stare down at her, so needy for me. “Tell me what you want.” I watch her shiver beneath me. “Beg for it.”

When she doesn’t speak I grind into her.

Her body twitches. She arches her back and draws me closer. “Please fuck me.” Eyes burning with fire, she doesn’t even blink as she looks at me, waiting to see how far I’ll take it.

“You can do better than that.” I grab her chin in a tight grip.

Her lips brush with mine as she whispers against them, “I want you to spread me open. I want you to make me come until I can’t think of anyone else but you. I want you to brand me.”

My dick is so fucking hard. I don’t know how much longer I can stare at those green eyes without going insane.

“Tell me what you are.” I yank her underwear to the side and thrust a finger in, replaceing her needy for me. She soaks my finger as I slide deeper, and when I flick my thumb over her clit, her hips buck.

“Julian,” she gasps.

“What are you, golden one?” My thumb strokes while I pump in and out of her. The slick sounds intertwine with her hastened breaths, and I think I could come with just this view.

She’s spread open, eager for my touch as she begs for release.

Her lips part.

“Tell me,” I groan.

Her body twitches, taunting, as her eyes close.

I tsk, pulling my finger out of her when she closes her legs too, preventing my hand from leaving her aching core.

“Please.” Her voice is raw, cheeks red.

“I’ll let you come if you tell me what you are.”

She nods then pushes my fingers back between her legs. We both groan at the sensation. When I don’t move, her hips buck, grinding on my hand, and I let her as I curl my fingers, touching her sweet spot, then circle her clit.

“Julian?” she pants.

“Yes, golden one?”

I feel her pulse around my finger. “I-I’m yours.”

And she screams. Her body clenches, head lolling back as her breath gets stuck inside. Her orgasm washes over her, and I’m over the edge with her.

Only, I don’t come. The need to bite down on her throat overcomes me, but I crush her lips with mine instead. She tastes of damnation. Like sweet death. In a blink she could ruin me.

Her lips part, inviting me in, and I dart my tongue inside. She spreads her hands over my chest before she’s ripping the buttons open, nails raking over my skin. Biting, scratching. Leaving me souvenirs of the night.

My mouth’s hungry for her. I bite her lip, sucking it in before letting it go with a pop. Not even a second later, her lips are back, locked with mine, our tongues dancing as her moans get swallowed down.

“Be at the party tomorrow,” I order between kisses.

“No,” she whispers before biting my lower lip. Her tongue pokes out to lick the raw skin.

“Stubborn girl.”

I pull away from her intoxicating lips and shift my attention onto her neck, sinking my teeth into her delicate skin.

I bite her hard. Enough to leave a mark. She shrieks, eyes widening as she looks up at me before instinctively wrapping her hand around the spot.

Standing up, I put some distance between us. She does the same, scrambling back on her legs, chest rising and falling.

Tension radiates between us, dense enough to be felt. My patience is running thin, and if making her feel good doesn’t get me the response I want, there’s only one other way.

Our gazes lock for a long, stretched-out heartbeat before I break the silence with one single word.

“Run.”