Epilogue
Julian
Four months later.
I feel like I’ll throw up. The raids we’ve been doing on the remaining ghoul cells are a walk in the park in comparison.
I’m always nervous whenever we enter one of their hideouts, my near-death experience still too recent, but this is ten times worse.
It’s not my first show on the catwalk either, but I’ve never had a showstopper like tonight’s, a true masterpiece, and in front of so many people.
There are celebrities in the audience, cameras flashing, magazines taking notes. This feels monumental, a turn in my career that will shape the future of Sanguine and Silk.
And Isidoro is the reason behind it.
I take a deep breath and count the seconds down until it’s my turn to be on the catwalk.
Exotic summer nights is the theme for the show, and each of S&S’ pieces showcases that in the best way.
No body type is overlooked, no shape gets passed on, no skin color isn’t taken into consideration.
There is something for everybody, all of it luxurious, all of it empowering, provoking a reaction from the public every time a model passes by.
“You are up in two, Julian!” Andrea shouts over the music, pulling on my sleeve. “Get in position. We’re bringing him now.”
My stomach flips and churns and does all sorts of acrobatics.
He didn’t let me see him, no matter how nicely I begged.
He said I’d have to wait for the show, like everyone else.
I’m both excited and nervous. I know the measurements were right, I double-checked everything.
The structure will hold. It’s not the first time such a bold design of mine will be shown to a room full of critics.
But it’s the first time my husband is going to be the model wearing it.
The men and women who already had their turn on the catwalk part, making way for the star of the show. With bated breath, I watch him approach, his lean body elevated to that of a god walking among mortals as the black-gold molds to him like a second skin, shifting with his every movement.
I’m speechless. Stunned. Mesmerized. His hand pats my shoulder as he passes by me and circles the curtains so he can show off my best ever piece.
Flashes of color accompany the elegant sway of his hips, the strands of gold that drape over his shoulders and down from the bands around his biceps flickering under the shifting light.
Each rib of his chest is accompanied by a gold chain, thin and unobstructive, an extension of his skin.
My heart won’t settle. He’s gorgeous, a temptation nobody can resist. Heat simmers inside me, my cock reacting to this masterpiece of my own creation and the man who brings it to life.
Mouth dry, I follow the journey of the black-gold spine down his back, the material thinning as it dives between his legs. His beautiful ass pulls the attention, tastefully naked but not truly bare as the gold does its job perfectly, revealing but not too much.
Then he turns, my eyes now feasting on his front.
The pouch that holds his cock fits like a glove, the height and width defining his shape without showing even a glimpse of what belongs only to me.
I added a cock ring to the piece, a last-minute change to rile him up, and I’m the only one who knows about it.
His glowing red eyes don’t leave me as the public devours him and cheers, Mary Eli’s earring completing the design. His hair has been braided the same way it was during the coronation, a play of styles that complements the vibe of the piece.
As he reaches the curtains, he extends his hand, the rest of the models spilling out on the catwalk. I take a deep breath and let him lead me to the middle of the stage. I bow to the audience, my heart in my throat, and then he takes me back as clapping and cheers accompany our exit.
“Oh my god! They loved it!” Andrea screams, hugging me as tears cling to the corners of her eyes. “We did it! We really did! The email is already exploding with invitations for all kinds of events!”
I glance at the screen of her tablet, grinning from ear to ear. There’s a dozen collab invitations, two Galas, even a movie that wants to use our line. I feel so happy I could burst.
“Congratulations, Julian,” Isidoro says, his mouth close to my ear.
“Well done. I’m so proud of you,” he purrs, licking my lobe when no one is looking.
His hand settles at the small of my back, and his lips press a kiss to the faint bite marks on my neck.
“I think you deserve a reward. Perhaps we could skip the afterparty.”
A rush of desire jolts my cock, my pants immediately tenting. This motherfucker. He knows he’s not supposed to say naughty things tonight! I’m at my limit trying not to jump him as is.
“Absolutely not. We aren’t skipping the fun part,” I say, jabbing a finger at his jeweled chest. “I need to network, there will be people from all over the fashion world. I’m not missing this.”
A staff hands him a coat, which he tosses over his shoulders, seemingly not bothered with being a walking temptation as we draw all the looks on our way to the changing rooms.
“At least let me bite you,” he drawls and locks the door as we enter, licking his lips.
Next thing I know I’m caged against the mirror, his unabashed arousal making my head spin. Maybe that cock ring was a mistake…
“Don’t try to resist me, Julian.” He shoves his hand inside the pouch, stroking himself. “I know you can’t.”
I breathe him in, desire pulsating inside me. I hate how right he is. But I also love it.
Gritting teeth, I crane my neck. It’s an offering, a permission, the need for him to bite me mounting in me.
He obliges, digging those incisors deep into my muscle.
Pleasure floods my body, blinding hot for a few seconds, then dulling down enough so I can endure it until he decides to grace me with that tight, addictive body of his.
He hums, kissing the marks. “Gods, you smell divine. I love how needy you get when I make you wait.”
I bare my teeth, snarling. He’s got me by the balls, I confess. My plan for sweet and sexually-frustrating revenge backfired spectacularly. I think that puts our score at twenty to zero. In his favor. But next time I’ll get him for sure.
“Are you coming?” he says, head cocked as he holds the door open.
When did he get there? He’s already put something on top of the jewelry piece too, a light shirt and dark pants topped with a velvet corset. If you looked at him, you couldn’t tell how naughty he is—his expression betrays nothing.
But I know, I can feel it in the air around him, I can smell it on him. He can’t wait to get his hands on me, so really, which one is the winner between us?
Or is it both?