Chapter 2 #2
Julian’s hands flew to Damien’s shoulders, clutching at the expensive fabric of his shirt. He felt untethered, floating in a sea of sensation. The slick was dripping out of him now, pooling in his boxers, making the slide of Damien’s hand wetter, lewder.
Suddenly, Damien pulled his hand away.
Julian cried out at the loss, his eyes snapping open in panic. "No! Don't stop!"
"Shh," Damien soothed, his eyes dark with lust. "I'm not stopping. I just want a taste."
Before Julian could process the words, Damien slid off the bench and onto the floor, disappearing under the white tablecloth.
Julian’s heart hammered against his ribs. "Damien, what are you—"
He felt large hands gripping his thighs, pushing them apart. The cool air of the room hit his heated, wet cock, followed immediately by the wet heat of Damien’s mouth.
Julian slapped a hand over his mouth, muffling the scream that threatened to alert the entire club. His other hand shot under the table, tangling in Damien’s hair, gripping it for dear life.
Damien didn't tease. He swallowed Julian down to the root in one fluid motion, his throat constricting around the head. It was aggressive, possessive, and utterly consuming. He sucked hard, his tongue working the underside of Julian’s shaft, lapping up the taste of him.
Julian’s eyes rolled back. His head thrashed against the leather. The dual sensation of the wet, tight heat on his cock and the utter depravity of the situation—getting blown in a high-end restaurant by his enemy—was too much.
Just then, the curtain twitched.
Julian froze, his blood running cold. A waiter stepped into the alcove, carrying a basket of bread. The young Beta looked at Julian, who was flushed, sweating, and biting his fist.
"Is everything alright, sir?" the waiter asked, looking concerned. "Can I get you some water?"
Julian’s brain short-circuited. Damien, under the table, chose that exact moment to hum low in his throat.
The vibration traveled straight up Julian’s cock, making his legs shake.
Damien’s hands tightened on his thighs, pushing them wider, and Julian felt a finger press against his slick-soaked entrance through the fabric of his boxers.
"Fine," Julian choked out, his voice strangled. "I'm... fine. Just... hot. The wine. Bring the wine."
The waiter hesitated, looking at the empty glass on the table. "Of course. I will pour it for you."
"No!" Julian yelped, a bit too loudly. "I mean... leave the bottle. Please. I'll do it myself."
The waiter blinked, then nodded slowly, backing out of the booth. "Very well, sir."
As soon as the curtain fell, Julian let out a shuddering moan, his hips bucking wildly. "You... you bastard," he gasped, looking down at the lump under the tablecloth. "I'm going to kill you."
Damien pulled off Julian’s cock with a wet pop that echoed obscenely in the small space. His voice drifted up from under the table, rough and amused. "Not before you come, you won't. Now be a good boy and feed me."
He dove back in, this time with renewed vigor. He took Julian deep, establishing a brutal rhythm. He used his teeth, grazing them lightly along the sensitive skin, driving Julian wild. He reached up, his hand finding Julian’s nipple through the shirt and pinching hard.
Julian mewled, his back arching. The pressure was building in his lower spine, a white-hot coil of tension ready to snap. The slick was pouring out of him now, he could feel it dripping onto the leather seat beneath him. He was a mess, a debauched, desperate mess, and he loved it.
"Close," Julian panted, his hand tightening in Damien’s hair. "Damien, I'm... I'm going to..."
Damien growled, the sound vibrating through Julian’s cock. He doubled his efforts, sucking harder, faster, demanding Julian’s release.
Julian came with a silent scream, his body seizing up. He spilled into Damien’s mouth, pulse after pulse of hot release. Damien swallowed it all, milking him through the aftershocks, his throat working rhythmically.
Julian slumped against the seat, gasping for air, his body trembling in the aftermath. He felt boneless, shattered, completely undone.
Damien emerged from under the table, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He looked unruffled, save for the wild hunger in his golden eyes and the slight flush on his cheekbones. He adjusted his cuffs and looked at Julian with a satisfied smirk.
"You're delicious," Damien said, his voice rough. "Like honey and spice."
Julian stared at him, unable to form words. He watched as Damien picked up his wine glass and took a sip, as if he hadn't just blown his rival in a public restaurant.
"Now," Damien said, setting the glass down. "About that deal."
Julian blinked, trying to focus. "The... deal?"
Damien reached over and tucked Julian’s softening cock back into his pants, zipping him up with surprising gentleness. He patted Julian’s thigh, his hand lingering possessively.
"I'll give you the merger," Damien said softly. "I'll even let you keep the CEO title. But there is a condition."
Julian swallowed hard, his throat dry. "What condition?"
Damien leaned in close, his lips brushing Julian’s ear. "You stop taking the suppressants. You let nature take its course. And when you go into heat... because you will... you come to me. You let me breed you properly."
The words hung in the air, filthy and binding.
Julian should have been horrified. He should have thrown the wine in Damien’s face and stormed out.
But as he sat there, smelling of sex and slick, his body still humming with the aftershocks of the most intense orgasm of his life, he felt a dark, terrifying pull.
He wanted it. He wanted to be owned.
"I..." Julian whispered, his voice trembling. "I need time."
Damien smiled, a slow, predatory baring of teeth. "You have until the end of the week. But remember, Julian. I can smell you. And your body has already signed the contract."