After Rebirth, I Became My Ex's Aunt-in-Law

The lock on the guest bedroom door clicked with a heavy, final sound.

Damien didn’t move away from the door immediately. He leaned back against it, his chest heaving, the gleaming, oiled expanse of his bare torso rising and falling with ragged breaths.

He looked down at his trousers. The fabric was strained to the breaking point.

”We have eighteen minutes,” he rasped, his eyes burning into Aria. ”Fix it.”

Aria stood in the center of the room, her hands still slick with the body oil she had massaged into him moments ago. She rubbed her palms together, the friction creating a wet, slippery sound.

The ”Madam” persona she had adopted gave her a boost of liquid courage, but underneath, her heart was hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. She had talked a big game, but the reality of being alone in a bedroom with a half-naked, aroused Damien was a different story.

”Come here,” she commanded, her voice trembling slightly. She pointed to the edge of the bed.

Damien pushed off the door. He walked over and sat down, spreading his legs wide, his hands gripping the mattress edge. He watched her with a predator’s focus, waiting.

Aria walked over. She sat down on the mattress beside his thigh, the springs dipping under her weight.

”I can’t send you out there like this,” she whispered, her hand hovering hesitantly over his belt buckle. ”The leather pants are unforgiving. We need to... deflate the asset.”

”Then get to work, Madam,” Damien growled, turning slightly to give her better access.

Aria undid his belt. Her fingers were clumsy, slipping on the metal because of the oil and her own nerves, but she managed to pop the button and lower the zipper. She pushed his trousers and boxer briefs down to his thighs.

His cock sprang free, heavy and thick, twitching with the sudden release of pressure.

Aria stared, her mouth going dry. Even after the other nights, the sheer size of him was intimidating in the stark light of day. He was beautiful—a thick, veined shaft of velvet-smooth skin, the head dark and swollen. A clear bead of precum gathered at the slit, glistening.

”Like what you see?” Damien asked, his voice thick.

”It’s... a lot,” Aria breathed, her cheeks flushing a deep scarlet.

She reached out. Her hand, coated in the slick oil, wrapped around his shaft.

Damien hissed, his head falling back as the cool oil met his hot skin.

”Fuck,” he groaned.

Aria began to move her hand. She slid up and down, exploring the texture of him, fascinated and terrified by the way his hips bucked involuntarily to meet her stroke.

”Tighter,” Damien instructed, one hand coming up to grip her shoulder, grounding himself. ”Don’t be afraid that you’ll break it. I’m not glass.”

She squeezed harder, picking up the pace. The sound was obscene—a wet, rhythmic squelching that filled the room. Damien’s breathing grew ragged. He watched her hand working his cock, his expression one of pained ecstasy.

But Aria wanted more. She wanted to be brave.

She slid off the mattress, dropping to her knees on the plush carpet between his legs.

Damien looked down at her, his eyes blowing wide. ”Aria?”

”Shh,” she whispered, looking up at him through her lashes, her face burning.

She leaned forward and kissed the tip. She tasted the salty tang of his precum mixed with the sandalwood oil. She hesitated, her breath hitching. She had never done this before. She didn’t know the technique. She didn’t know if she would choke.

”You don’t have to,” Damien said, seeing her hesitation. ”Aria—”

”I want to,” she cut him off.

She flicked her tongue out, swirling it over the sensitive slit.

”Open,” he commanded, his voice raw.

She opened her mouth and took the head of his cock inside.

It was a shock—the fullness, the heat, the texture filling her mouth. She couldn’t take all of him, but she tried, bobbing her head, using her hand to pump the shaft while her mouth ministered to the head. She was clumsy, her rhythm uneven, but her enthusiasm was undeniable.

”Good girl,” Damien praised, his voice a low, encouraging rumble that vibrated against her lips. ”Just like that. Don’t hide. Look at me.”

Aria rolled her eyes up to meet his gaze. The sight of him watching her—his face flushed, his jaw clenched, his eyes dark with possession—fueled her. She sucked harder, her cheeks hollowing, the oil on her hand making the friction unbearable for him.

Damien’s hips snapped forward. ”Deep. Take me deeper.”

He wove one hand into her hair, guiding her rhythm, helping her find a pace that worked. Aria made a muffled sound of effort, her throat tight, tears pricking her eyes from the stretch, but she didn’t stop. She loved the power of it—the way the most dangerous man in the city was unraveling completely because of her.

”Aria, I’m close,” he warned, his entire body going rigid. ”I can’t—fuck—”

He pulled her off him just as he broke. He grabbed the nearest thing—a small hand towel from the nightstand—and pressed it against his cock as he spilled, his body shuddering with the force of his release.

Aria sat back on her heels, wiping a stray drop of oil from her chin, panting. Her face was bright red, her lips swollen.

Damien dropped the towel. He leaned forward, grabbing her under the arms and hauling her up. He pulled her into a searing, messy kiss, tasting himself on her tongue.

”You,” he murmured against her mouth, ”are going to be the death of me.”

”Did it work?” Aria asked breathlessly, pulling back to look at him.

Damien looked down. He was softer now, satiated.

”It worked.”

He checked his watch. ”We have five minutes.”

”Leather time.”

Aria grabbed the leather pants. ”Left leg.”

Damien shoved his leg in. The leather was tight—skin tight. It required jumping, wiggling, and Aria yanking the waistband while Damien swore.

”This is ridiculous,” Damien grunted, hopping on one foot to get the fabric over his calf. ”Who wears this?”

”Rock stars,” Aria said, slapping his ass to get the pants over his glutes. ”And you.”

She zipped him up. The pants molded to him like a second skin, highlighting every muscle in his thighs and the outline of his semi-soft cock.

”Harness,” Aria commanded, picking up the leather straps.

Damien stood shirtless, his chest still glistening with the oil she had applied earlier. Aria stepped up to him, sliding the harness over his bare shoulders. The black leather straps framed his pectorals perfectly, cutting across his skin and highlighting the definition of his muscles.

She stepped back.

He looked like a dark fantasy. The tight leather pants, the harness digging into his oiled skin, the sheer, raw masculinity of it.

”Oh,” Aria whispered, biting her lip. ”I would definitely buy you.”

She pulled out her phone. Click.

”What was that?” Damien asked, narrowing his eyes.

”Nothing,” Aria grinned, saving the photo to a hidden folder. ”You just need hair and makeup and you’re ready to be sold.”

Damien adjusted the straps, wincing slightly at the tightness against his bare skin. He looked in the mirror and sighed. If anyone told him, prior to meeting Aria, that he would be dressing up as a male prostitute because his wife wants him to, he would’ve definitely laughed in their face and ruin their lives for having the audacity to spout nonsense to him.

But look at him now.

Damien opened the door. They walked out into the living room, flushed and disheveled.

They stopped dead.

In the center of the room, a scene of pure chaos was unfolding.

Ken was lying on his back on the floor, his legs in the air like a dead beetle. He was wearing—or trying to wear—the vinyl trousers. They were stuck at his knees.

Coco was kneeling on one side, armed with a bottle of baby lotion. Kai was on the other side, holding a container of talcum powder.

”PUSH, KEN!” Coco screamed, shoving Ken’s calf. ”We need lubrication! Kai, powder him!”

”I’m powdering!” Kai yelled, dumping a cloud of white dust onto Ken’s thighs. ”It’s like trying to stuff a sausage into a straw!”

”I quit,” Ken wheezed from the floor, staring blankly at the ceiling. ”I formally resign. I want my severance package in cash!”