Chapter 32 Julian
JULIAN
Istep out of the elevator into my penthouse, briefcase in hand, to find Elliot and Bianca sitting at my kitchen island.
They both look up at the sound of my arrival, conversation halting.
Bianca’s eyes narrow as she assesses me.
Elliot looks better than when I left him this morning; some color returned to his face.
“Julian,” Elliot says, surprise evident in his voice. “You’re back early.”
I set my briefcase on the counter and loosen my tie. “I had some pressing matters to attend to this morning, but I wanted to come and check on you.”
“I should go,” Bianca says, rising from her stool. She squeezes Elliot’s shoulder. “Think about what I said, okay? We’re all here for you.”
After brief goodbyes, the door closes behind her, leaving Elliot and me alone. He studies my face, clearly sensing something.
“What is it?” he asks.
I allow myself a slight smile. “The insurance company has agreed to a full payout. You’ll have the money by tomorrow afternoon.”
Elliot stares at me, lips parting in disbelief. “That’s—that’s impossible. These things take weeks, months sometimes.”
“Not when Frost Industries controls a significant portion of your insurer’s investment portfolio.
” I shrug as if it’s nothing, though the meeting with Whitley had been anything but casual.
“I’ve also contracted Romano Construction to begin work on the gallery tomorrow.
Their crew will start clearing debris at seven. ”
“Tomorrow?” Elliot stands; his hands braced against the counter. “Julian, that’s—I don’t understand how you—”
“We own several buildings that Romano renovated last year. They were eager to accommodate.”
Elliot circles the island slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. When he reaches me, his hands grip my arms hard.
“Why are you doing this?” His voice breaks.
I reach up, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “Because she doesn’t get to win. Not over you.”
Tears fill his eyes as he leans forward, pressing his forehead against my chest. I feel his body shaking with emotion.
“Thank you,” he whispers against my shirt. “I don’t know how to—I can’t believe you made this happen so quickly.”
I wrap my arms around him, pulling him closer. His gratitude unsettles me—creates a warmth I’m not accustomed to feeling. For once, I allow myself to hold him.
I draw Elliot closer, our lips meeting in a kiss that begins gently but quickly deepens.
His mouth tastes of coffee and something sweet.
My hands drift to his waist, pulling him against me as the kiss becomes more urgent, more demanding.
For a moment, I lose myself in the sensation, in the soft sounds he makes.
With reluctance, I break the kiss. “We should eat something. I bet you’ve barely had anything substantial today.”
Elliot nods, his eyes still half-lidded from our kiss. “You’re right.”
“What do you want? We can go out, or I can order in.” I brush my thumb across his lower lip, still damp from our kiss.
His expression falters slightly. “I’m not ready to... to be seen yet. Not with everything that’s happened.”
“Take out it is.” I don’t push him, understanding his hesitation. “Thai?”
“Perfect.”
I make the call, ordering from Lotus Garden—apparently the best Thai in Ravenwood, according to my assistant. While we wait, I open a bottle of pinot noir and pour two glasses.
Elliot accepts it with a small smile, and we move to the living room. We sit close but not touching, the space between us charged. It’s not the usual sexual tension that normally drives our interactions.
“Thank you,” he says quietly, eyes on his wine glass. “For everything today.”
There’s something different about sitting here with him like this—fully clothed, having wine, waiting for food like ordinary people. It makes me uneasy in a way I haven’t felt before.
The food arrives, and I arrange the containers on the coffee table. We eat in a comfortable silence that occasionally gives way to light conversation. I watch him use chopsticks with perfect dexterity and notice how he closes his eyes when he tastes something particularly good.
This new tension between us feels more intimate than sex somehow. I find myself wanting to know his thoughts, his preferences beyond the bedroom, and that desire unsettles me more than any physical craving.
As we finish the last of our food, the air between us shifts. The containers sit empty on the coffee table, but neither of us moves to clear them away. Elliot’s gaze meets mine, and something passes between us. No words needed.
I set my wine glass down and reach for his hand, our fingers intertwining. The contact sends a current through me, different from the usual sharp lust. This feels... more profound.
“Come with me,” I whisper, leading him toward my bedroom.
Inside, I dim the lights and turn to face him. We undress each other slowly, nothing like our usual frantic tearing of clothes. His fingers brush my skin as he unbuttons my shirt. I pull his T-shirt over his head, taking time to appreciate the lines of his body.
When we’re both naked, I guide him to sit on the edge of the bed. His eyes follow me as I retrieve lube from the nightstand.
“Tonight,” I say, my voice soft, “I want something different.”
Elliot watches, pupils dilating as I prepare myself, working slick fingers inside my own body. I rarely give this part of myself to anyone, preferring control above all. But with Elliot, I seem to want him inside me constantly.
I straddle his lap, our cocks brushing together as I settle against him. His hands come to rest on my hips, steady and warm.
“I want us to flip-fuck,” I murmur against his ear. “I’ll ride you first.”
His breath catches. “Julian...”
I silence him with a kiss, slow and deep. Then I rise and reach between us, positioning him at my entrance. As I sink down, taking him inside me, I maintain eye contact. No masks. No games. Just us.
I rise and fall on Elliot’s cock, setting a rhythm that makes my own erection slap against his stomach with each movement. The friction sends waves of inescapable pleasure through my body, his thickness stretching me in ways few men ever have.
“Fuck, your cock feels so good inside me,” I growl, grinding my hips in a circular motion that makes him gasp. “So thick, stretching my ass just right.”
Sweat gleams on Elliot’s chest as he thrusts up to meet me. His hands grip my thighs hard enough to leave marks—marks I want him to leave.
“Julian,” he moans, watching where we’re joined. “You’re so tight. Fucking heavenly.”
I lean forward, changing the angle so his cock hits that magic spot with each thrust. “You like watching yourself disappear into me? Like seeing what you do to me?”
“God, yes,” Elliot bucks upward, harder now. “Never felt anything like you.”
The room fills with the obscene sounds of skin against skin, our breathing ragged and desperate. I ride him faster, chasing the electric sensation building at the base of my spine.
“You’re mine,” I hiss, bracing my hands on his chest for leverage. “This cock belongs to me.”
Elliot’s eyes roll back, his fingers digging deeper. “I’m close, Julian. So close. Want to fill you up.”
I feel his cock pulse inside me, the telltale sign of his approaching orgasm. Despite the temptation to let him finish, I lift myself off him abruptly, leaving him gasping and desperate.
“Not yet,” I command, voice husky with need. “I need to fuck your ass first.”
Elliot groans a little in displeasure, his cock flushed and leaking. His eyes are dark with need, lips parted as he tries to catch his breath.
“On your back for your king,” I demand. “Spread those pretty ass cheeks for me.”
He’s quick to comply, eager in a way that makes my cock twitch with anticipation. He lies back against the sheets, drawing his knees up toward his chest before reaching down to spread himself open for me. The sight of him so exposed, so vulnerable, sends a surge of possessiveness through me.
I grab the lube and squeeze a generous amount onto my fingers. Holding his gaze, I circle his entrance. His breath hitches as I push two fingers inside, making sure he’s properly prepared.
“You want this?” I ask, stroking my cock with my free hand, spreading lube along its length.
“Yes,” he breathes, eyes fixed on my erection. “Please, Julian.”
I position myself between his spread thighs, the head of my cock pressing against his hole. With a controlled thrust, I slide inside him, feeling his body yield to my invasion. The tight heat envelops me inch by inch until I’m fully seated inside him.
“Fuck,” I hiss, the sensation almost overwhelming. “No one takes my cock like you do.”
Elliot’s eyes roll back as I fill him. His hands grip the sheets, knuckles white with tension as his body adjusts to my size.
I thrust into Elliot with deliberate, powerful strokes, angling my hips to hit his prostate with each movement. His eyes lock with mine, pupils blown wide with pleasure. There’s something unfiltered in his gaze that makes my chest tighten strangely.
“Look at me while I fuck you,” I command. “I want to see every expression on your face.”
Elliot nods, gasping as I drive deeper. His hands clutch at my biceps, fingernails digging crescents into my skin.
“You’re taking my cock so well,” I growl, maintaining our eye contact as I increase my pace. “This tight ass was made for me. Tell me who this belongs to.”
“You,” he moans, voice breaking. “It’s yours, Julian.”
I wrap my hand around his throat, applying pressure to the sides rather than the center—just enough to restrict blood flow without cutting off his air. His eyes widen, lips parting in surprise as his pulse races beneath my palm.
“That’s right,” I whisper, squeezing gently. “Mine to fuck, mine to own.”
The effect is instantaneous. Elliot’s back arches off the bed, a strangled cry escaping his lips as cum erupts from his cock, painting thick white stripes across his chest and abs. His body tightens around me, the rhythmic clenching nearly pushing me over the edge.
I release his throat, watching as he gasps for air, his body still trembling with aftershocks.
“So fucking beautiful,” I murmur, running my fingers through the mess on his chest. “Look how pretty you are covered in your own cum.”
His eyes are dazed, unfocused, but he manages to hold my gaze as I continue to thrust into him.
“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” I tell him.
My hand wraps around his softening cock, stroking him with meticulous pressure as I continue to pound his prostate. Despite having just climaxed, his cock begins to harden again in my grip.
“Getting hard for me already,” I encourage, feeling him swell against my palm. “I’m going to make you come again while I fill you up.”
“I can’t,” Elliot gasps. “Julian, it’s too much. I can’t take any more.”
I slow my thrusts but don’t withdraw, leaning down to brush my lips against his ear. “You can and you will. Be a good boy and give your king what he wants.”
His eyes lock with mine, pupils blown wide with desire despite his protest. Something in my command seems to awaken a deeper need in him.
“Yes, my king,” he whispers, the words sending an electric current straight to my cock.
I resume my rhythm, angling my hips to hit his prostate with each thrust. My hand wraps around his cock, stroking him in time with my movements. His body responds, cock becoming fully hard in my grip.
“Just like that,” I encourage, watching pleasure battle fatigue on his face. “Feel how perfectly we fit together? Your body was made for this—made for me.”
Elliot moans beneath me, his hands gripping my forearms as I continue to stroke him. His breathing becomes more erratic, his cock pulsing.
“Tell me when you’re close,” I demand. “I want to know exactly when you’re going to come for me.”
He bites his lower lip, struggling to form words as I drive into him. “I’m—Julian, I’m close. So close.”
In one fluid movement, I bend forward, keeping my cock buried inside him as deeply as possible while I take his length into my mouth. The position is challenging, but Elliot’s shocked gasp of pleasure rewards me. I hollow my cheeks, sucking him deep.
“Feed me your cum,” I command, pulling off just long enough to speak before swallowing him again.
Elliot’s hips buck upward as he explodes in my mouth with a hoarse cry.
I drink down every drop, savoring his taste as his body convulses around my still-buried cock.
The tight pulsing of his muscles around me triggers my own release, and I pull off his cock and drive my own deep, emptying myself inside him with a groan.
“Fuck,” I gasp, watching his face as I finish. “I’m breeding your perfect ass.”
I collapse beside Elliot, my breath coming in ragged gasps as the intensity of my orgasm subsides.
Our bodies are slick with sweat, the sheets beneath us damp and tangled.
I turn my head to look at him—his chest still rising and falling rapidly, eyes closed, lips parted.
The sight of him like this, thoroughly fucked and completely mine, sends a surge of emotion through me.
Elliot opens his eyes, turning to meet my gaze. Something in his expression makes my chest tighten.
“I’ve never felt this way before,” I admit, the words spilling out before I can analyze them. My voice lacks its usual edge. “About anyone.”
He shifts closer, his hand coming up to rest against my cheek. His thumb traces my lower lip with such tenderness that I almost look away.
“I love you,” he whispers, the words hanging in the air between us.
Three words that would normally send me running. Three words I’ve avoided my entire adult life. But instead of the panic I felt the first time he said them, I feel something else entirely—something warm and steady spreading through my chest.
I lean forward, capturing his lips in a deep, searching kiss. When we finally break apart, I rest my forehead against his.
“I know,” I murmur, my fingers threading through his hair. “I’m getting there, too.”
The smile that breaks across his face is worth every moment of discomfort this feeling gives me. He shifts closer, his head finding its place against my shoulder, arm draped across my chest. I pull him against me, feeling his breathing slowly even out as he drifts toward sleep.
I press a kiss to his forehead and close my eyes, allowing myself to follow him into unconsciousness.