Chapter 12
Serena
I sat in the conference room, my laptop open, and paperwork fanned around me. A half-drunken cup of chamomile tea sat forgotten by my elbow. The door opened, but I didn’t look up.
For one, I’d booked this room; everyone knew my blocked-off hours meant: do not disturb.
But more than that, I felt him.
Julien.
His stare hit me like a touch. Before the door even closed behind him, I felt him. He dragged the chair out beside mine, too damn close.
The screech of wood against floor vibrated right through my ribs. When he sat, the heat from his body rolled toward me like summer pavement under thin soles. Close enough for his cologne to cut through the stale office air and wrap around me like a hand at my throat.
I kept my eyes on the contract in front of me. Tried to act like I didn’t notice the tension thickening the air between us. Sleeves rolled to the elbows. Forearms tight. His whole body angled toward mine like he couldn’t help it. His brown eyes were unreadable, heavy with something he hadn’t said yet. He didn’t just look at me, he studied and tracked me like I was the only thing worth looking at.
I used to think desire felt like butterflies. But with Julien? It’s a low hum deep in my belly, rising to a heat that makes me want to run, and makes me want to stay even more.
“What’s up?” You wouldn’t guess my heartbeat was missing every other step like it lost the beat.
“Nothing.”
A lie, I could hear it in his tone.
His hand grazed a stray file on my desk, and his eyes met mine again, that slow-burn smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
The one that felt like a match lit directly against my skin.
“Just checking on you.”
I arched a brow. “Nobody checks on me.”
“Sounds like someone who needs better friends.”
“Or,” I countered, smirking, “like someone who’s got her shit together. People don’t worry about the ones who keep moving.”
He leaned back, eyes darkening. “They should. The ones who seem unbreakable?” A pause, his voice roughening. “Usually are.”
My pulse stuttered. I folded my arms. “So… is this you applying to be my friend?”
His grin turned wolfish. “Why would I friend-zone myself?” He closed the distance between us, his whispered skating down my spine:
“I’m busy trying to get you back in my bed.”
“Won’t happen,” I said matter-of-factly. “Is this why you came in here? To disturb my peace?”
He dragged his fingers along his jawline. “I’m here to meet with my mother, but I figured I’d check on you first.” He winked, clearly pleased with himself.
I shook my head and turned back to my computer. Evelyn’s gala planning bled into my accounting work again. Despite having already asked her to give her staff more responsibilities, I had to decide on the final outfits. The numbers alone drowned me.
Julien’s stare burned into my profile.
“Yes?” I snapped without looking.
“Did my research. You manage all our accounting, yet here you are…” His eyes flicked to my screen, and I angled it away. “Lingerie specs? My mother could hire a third-party firm for the numbers.”
My fingers kept typing. “A good CEO learns what to delegate with company growth like this.” He said casually. “You’ll need someone to catch things when—”
“I’ve managed finances since inception.”
“Maybe that’s why she didn’t promote you to CEO.”
My head jerked up.
His smile was all challenge. “Leadership means knowing when to relinquish control.”
“I didn’t ask for your assessment.”
“Didn’t have to. You’re already in your head about it.” He laughed, low and easy. “Just easing the pressure before it explodes.”
“You think you’re so smooth.” I slammed my laptop shut. “Bringing anyone to your mother’s gala?” I asked, abruptly shifting topics.
“A date?” He looked genuinely offended. “I don’t date.”
My gaze dropped to his arms, which strained against his dress shirt.
The man was trouble incarnate, all sharp edges and hotter than anyone had a right to be. One taste had been reckless enough; letting him unravel my career would be insanity.
“Why bring someone,” he murmured, leaning closer, “when I could go with you?”
Heat prickled up my neck, but I schooled my features. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.”
“I know what I want.”
“Why me?”
His smile vanished. “Is that a serious question?”
“I don’t get your fixation.” I forced a shrug. “You already had me. Shouldn’t I be out of your system by now?”
“I like how you talk to me.”
“All I do is give you shit.”
His grin returned. “Exactly.”
“You’re twisted.”
“Women who are unafraid to voice their opinions?” His voice dropped. “That’s fucking sexy.”
"This is just a game to you."
My words came softer than I intended, but they landed hard.
Julien stilled. That infuriating smirk faltered for the first time.
He leaned in—close enough for me to see the gold flecks in his eyes.
Close enough to feel his words before he spoke them.
"You want to know what’s not a game?"
His voice dropped, rough at the edges.
"The way I lose track of conversations when you wear your hair down like that. How I’ve memorized the exact shade of pink on your nails, how it hits different against your brown skin. Like it was made for you.”
His thumb brushed my wrist, barely a touch, but it scorched.
“And that birthmark by your lip? I dream about tracing it with my tongue.”
A shiver tore through me.
“So no, Serena.”
He exhaled like it cost him something real.
“This stopped being a game the second you pulled me in—dropped that kiss on me and ruined me for everyone else.”
When I finally met his eyes, they had gone startlingly intense.
“How many others have heard that line?” I challenged.
“None.”
“Right.”
“I’ve called women beautiful before.” He held my gaze. “Never said it like that, though. Almost handed you that CEO title just to have you.”
“You still can’t.”
“Yet.”
“Even without the promotion, nothing’s happening.”
His stubble caught the light as he smirked. “I can already tell how messy we’d be.”
“Messy?”
“You’re the type to storm into someone’s life and turn it upside down. Walking chaos.”
“Projecting much?” He leaned in. “You’re the one playing hard to get.”
“How, when you’ve already had me?” I hissed. “I don’t mix work and pleasure.”
“That’s the thing.” His knuckle brushed my wrist. “We already crossed that line. Might as well enjoy the blur.”
One sharp retort died on my lips as footsteps approached. Evelyn swept in, oblivious to the tension. “There you are. Sorry for the wait.”
Julien stood smoothly. “Serena kept me thoroughly occupied.” The wink he gave me in front of his mother was downright treasonous.
As they exited, I watched through the glass walls—how his muscular frame relaxed against the hallway, one foot propped casually against the baseboard like he owned the place.
???
I expected a hotel.
But we pulled up to an old building nestled just past the edges of Midtown. Weathered brick, wrought-iron details, the place with a soul. It didn’t announce itself. Timeless in a way most things don’t dare to be anymore. Julien didn’t say a word.
I stepped out, rounded the car, and opened my door, as if it were second nature. Some men have to be taught how to be gentle with a woman. He never needed the lesson.
Inside, the building was warm and quiet. Hardwood floors stretched down a narrow hallway, worn smooth with time. The air smelled faintly of cedar, and lemon clean scent, and his masculine scent. Everything about it felt intentional, curated. Like someone had carved out a sanctuary from the noise.
His hand brushed the small of my back as he guided me up the stairs. My heels clicked against the steps, echoing in a way that made me feel suddenly self-conscious. Exposed, somehow.
As if, even the space could hear my heart racing.
We reached the second floor, where tall windows lined the hallway, the city lit up beyond them like a soft reflection of the night. For a moment, I focused on the hum of the world outside. It was easier than thinking about what was happening between us.
He stopped in front of a pair of matte black double doors, turned the handle, and let me in first.
I stepped inside and exhaled.
The room caught me off guard.
It was more like its own apartment than a bedroom. It was so big.
It felt like a revelation, the best escape from the world while having a secret window to it.
Open and warm.
A dark leather sectional sat angled toward a low-burning fireplace, one he turned on the moment we walked in. The flame caught quietly, flickering, and a steady warmth wrapped around the room.
I’d expected a wood-burning setup, like the one I glimpsed downstairs. But a live fire this high up? Probably not the safest move. Still, something about the glow made everything feel softer. Like the space had been waiting to be used for more than just passing time.
My eyes traveled across the room, catching pieces of him I hadn’t seen before. The far wall was lined with books, records with some worn and some rare. Framed art leaned casually against the shelves, not hung with but placed carefully. Not for display, but comfort.
In the corner, a sleek bar caught the light. Two heavy tumblers were already out, filled with hand-cut ice that hadn’t started melting yet. Like they’d been prepared right before we got here.
By a housekeeper.
By him.
Either way, it felt… intentional, like he wasn’t hoping for this moment, as if he was expecting it.
Further back was the bedroom. There were no doors, and no line was drawn between public and private. Just open space and a clean design.
A king-sized bed sat low against a deep gray rug. The sheets were crisp, tucked so tight it looked like you’d have to earn your way in. The kind of bed that said he didn’t just care about how things looked but cared how they felt.
He went to the wet bar, pouring himself a drink and pouring me a Coke. I looked out his window, and the city lights lit up the room.
He turned with the two glasses and gave me one.
I loved how he never forgot that I didn’t drink. The glass was cold to the touch, and my finger felt the slickness of the moisture as I held it. I brought it to my lips for a quick drink. The coolness calmed me, or maybe I just wanted it to.
He took a slow sip of his drink, eyes still on me like he hadn’t looked away since I sat down.
“You’re quiet all of a sudden.”
“I already said what I needed to say.”
He smiled at that, low and knowing, and took another sip, finishing half the glass.
“You sure you’re ready for this?” he asked, voice rough, almost amused.
I leaned back, letting the tension rise between us like steam. “I wouldn’t be here if I weren’t.”
He set the glass down and sank into the couch, like he owned the night. Legs wide, shoulders loose, claiming every inch of space like it was owed to him.
“You talk a big game,” he said, gaze trailing over me slow and heavy. “Let’s see if you can back it up.”
“You already know I can.”
He set the glass down with a soft clink and sank into the couch, taking up space as only men like him could without apologizing. “I think you’re nervous.”
“I’m not.”
I didn’t flinch or smile. Only slid onto the seat beside him, my back hitting the cushion with a quiet thud that felt louder than anything either of us had said.
He didn’t move. Just looked at me…jaw tight, eyes unreadable.
But I knew that look.
He was already undressing me with it.
Not just my body. My intention.
And I let him.
Because right now, there was nothing left to hide.
The silence stretched between us, and my pulse stuttered in the space where words should’ve been.
Then, without warning, without asking, his hand moved. Up my dress, and
between my thighs. Warm fingers brushing my skin like he knew the map by memory.
He cupped the inside of my thigh first, his thumb grazing slow, lazy circles, testing, teasing, and claiming. Then he shifted, pushing the fabric up inch by inch, his eyes dropping as if waiting to see the color. Guessing.
“With the things I’m about to do… and how hard.”
His voice was lower now. Rougher.
“Yeah. You should be.”
My breath hitched, just slightly, but it was enough.
A shiver raced across my skin, goosebumps blooming on my thighs before melting away under my dress, as if escaping the heat he radiated.
A satisfied smile tugged at his lips.
Then one finger hooked into my panties, brushing gently over me, just enough to feel, not enough to satisfy. My hips shifted without thinking.
He tugged them down slowly, letting them fall from my knees to my ankles with no rush. No shame. Just claiming.
“Hmmm.” He licked his bottom lip like he could already taste me.
“I pictured green, to match the dress,” he murmured. “But this black lace?”
A low whistle. “Sexy as fuck.”
I tried to breathed evenly and keep my cool, but everything about him…his voice, hands, and presence was my slow unraveling.
The air between us was cool, but the heat coursing through my veins made me feel flushed, almost dizzy. That familiar ache returned, but so did the doubt. I was confident, usually. I knew what I was doing, but being alone with Julien?
It felt like the first time.
He wasn’t just sexy. He was sure, smooth, and powerful. The kind of man who didn’t ask for attention, he drew it.
He was the first man I’d let in since my drought of celibacy.
So yeah… that confidence?
It was working overtime right now.
Julien dropped to his knees between my thighs, and in one smooth motion, pulled his shirt over his head. The way he moved lit something up in me. This man wasn’t stalling. He was taking his time.
He let the shirt fall to the floor and stood half-shadowed by the city light pouring in from behind me.
He looked unreal.
His arms were thick, muscle layered on muscle, the kind of strength you feel more than see. His shoulders flexed under tight skin, veins like maps trailing down toward hands that already knew too much about my body.
His chest was broad and cut deep, the kind of build that came from discipline, not vanity. There was no flexing, no performance, just years of quiet control layered into the muscle.
He looked carved. All sharp lines and shadows, like a statue brought to life…
Only better.
Because this one looked at me like he knew exactly what to do with all that strength.
Like he could crush me…
Or carry me.
And I didn’t know which I wanted more.
He took off my heels and leaned in close on the couch, his hands moving up my dress, hiking it up to show off my perfectly groomed pussy.
Good thing I always stayed ready.
He grabbed my hips and pulled me to the end of the couch, eyes on me the whole time.
“Pretty,”
His arms scooped underneath my ass and back to cradle me into position before he dipped his head and kissed me, kissed me like it was my mouth.
“Don’t even make sense, pretty.” He rasped.
I inhaled a sharp breath because his lips on my throbbing pussy was euphoria. He kissed me again, opening my folds like he’d parted my lips in a kiss. A deep moan escaped him as he savored me.
His tongue appeared, intensifying his kisses as he circled my clit and then sucked my lips into his sexy mouth. My legs spread even wider, surrendering to his gravity and the moment. A wave of heat washes over my skin, traveling down my spine and wrapping around my toes. I sink deeper into the couch, it’s cool softness cradling me while his touch builds warmth everywhere else.
His palms rough in all the right places skim the inside of my thighs, spreading me with the kind of care that feels like reverence.
Then he leans in, dragging his nose slowly along the tender center of me, like he’s memorizing the scent of a place he never planned to forget.
All the nerves bled from my body, slipping away as I was pulled under, carried on waves of pleasure I didn’t have to chase.
I’ve had men do this before.
But it always felt like a detour, an appetizer, something they hurried through on the way to what they really wanted.
But not Julien.
He kissed me like it was the whole damn meal.
Like tasting me was a privilege.
A pleasure for him.
My fingers gripped his head, holding him to me like I needed him to breathe. When his tongue found my spot, my whole body lit up, pleasure flickering beneath my skin like a flame.
A moan slipped from my lips before I could catch it.
I started to move with him, hips rolling on instinct, chasing that rhythm. That edge. That high. I wanted him lost in me…drowning, devouring, not stopping until I was nothing but sensation and sound.
I pulled him deeper, greedy for every bit of what he was giving. My thighs trembled around his shoulders, my breath staggered, my body begging.
Then, he pulled away.
A sharp cry escaped me, raw with disappointment and need. He left me gasping. Needing.
He smiled as he moved over me, his lips shiny from my taste. “You know Ima take care of you, baby.” His eyes lingered on my mouth for a beat, hungry, before he leaned in and kissed me. Hard.
Just as hard as he’d kissed my pussy.
His hand wrapped around my neck, firm and possessive, like he was holding back something wild. Something he couldn’t afford to let loose.
“I want you coming on my dick first,” he murmured against my mouth, his voice low and gravely, the kind of promise that lived somewhere between command and prayer.
I kissed him deeper, my tongue tangling with his, and instantly, I tasted myself on him.
Warm, sweet and a little shameless.
My fingers clutched his arm, the other braced against his chest. I faltered for a moment, caught off guard by how hard he was beneath my palm, like stone.
Then, without a word, he scooped me up off the couch, effortless, like I weighed nothing, and carried me to the bed. His arms were all power and control, but his touch when he laid me down was careful. Gentle. Like I was breakable, even if we both knew I wasn’t.
He stepped back, hands going to his waistband, and stripped off the last of his clothes. Everything from the waist down was gone in seconds, but what remained?
Was all man.
And all mine.
I unzipped my dress and slipped it off, sitting upright with my titties lifted. The air met my skin in a rush of cool that made me shiver.
But then I looked at him, and everything else fell away. Any unease vanished when I saw what that thick, long dick. Beautiful in a way that made my breath catch.
My eyes traced him without shame, following the bold line of veins from the base to the tip, memorizing every inch like I was already imagining how he’d feel inside me.
He moved onto the bed and rose on top of me, his thighs immediately separating mine in a rush to be inside me. His thick arms hooked behind my knees, and he opened me wide like he needed all the room to make his work.
The head of his dick, hot and rigid, pressed against mine.
My head was in the clouds, drifting somewhere between reality and whatever heaven he was carving into me, but I still managed to speak.
“G—God…”
Julien hovered over me, his brown eyes locked on mine, dark and burning. Circling a nipple into his mouth, grazing it with his teeth, sending shivers down to my toes.
“I’ll be that for you tonight,” he said, low and lethal.
Then he pushed deeper, stretching me slowly to take all of him.
“All fucking night.”
The heat that tore through me was blinding and scorching. My skin flushed with it, breaking into a slick sweat that made me feel like I was unraveling from the inside out. Meanwhile, Julien was all muscle and control, strength and sin.
The only thing I cared about in that moment was the high I was seconds away from climbing…and the man who promised to carry me to the edge.
“More.” I panted.
He eased in an inch, then another, his thickness stretching me slow and wide, pulling a soft cry from my lips.
“So fucking tight,” he muttered, his voice thick with restraint.
Then he gave another push, deeper this time, claiming more of me, his body tense with the effort it took not to lose control.
It hurt enough to make me bite my lip. But it was the kind of pain laced with pleasure, so good I almost forgot how to breathe.
He gave one deep push, and then he was inside, seated fully, like he belonged there. A shuddering breath left me as our bodies adjusted around each other, the heat between us thick.
Damn… that’s a big dick.
It wasn’t just the way he filled me.
It was the way he fit. It was as if we were always meant to meet right here, in this exact rhythm and way.
His thrusts were slow and deliberate, each one rolling through me like a steady tide.
His body hovered over mine, folding me beneath him, our hips perfectly aligned.
His face hovered just above mine, breath mingling with mine, warmth resting in every inch of space between us.
Then he dipped his head and kissed me…slow, reverent.
Lips pulling mine into his like a promise he intended to keep.
Then he pulled back, just enough to speak.
“Look at me.”
I had to tilt my head to meet his gaze.
He was everywhere…filling me, covering me, consuming me.
My breath came fast and uneven, my hands splayed against the heat of his chest, trying to hold on to something solid as my body moved in sync with his. Our rhythm was building, hips rocking with more need than control now.
He kissed me again, deeper this time.
His tongue swept into my mouth like he owned it, like he was reminding me that everything I was feeling started with him.
Our breaths tangled, escaped us in staggered moans, breaking between kisses as the pace quickened. Sweat beaded at the base of my spine. His skin was slick against mine.
And still…we couldn’t stop touching, couldn’t stop reaching for each other.
He pulled away, and then he kept his promise and fucked the breath from my lungs.
His pace didn’t break.
There was no rush in him.
No frantic edge.
Just steady, power, like he knew exactly how to take me apart and was in no hurry to stop.
He drove into me hard, his palm on the headboard as it hit the wall in a rhythm, each thrust a deeper claim, each sound echoing what my body already knew.
He didn’t hold back.
He wrecked me with purpose and ruined me like it was the only language his body knew.
My hands clung to his arms, my favorite part of him, aside from the thick, relentless length filling me… and those eyes.
Damn, those brown eyes.
Deep and liquid, like warm honey poured slowly. Watching me like I was the only thing worth seeing.
A moan poured from my lips, long and unrestrained.
“Ohhhh…”
I could feel the tightening in my belly, that slow, delicious burn spreading through my core. It curled low in my stomach and fanned like a wave of heat licking at every nerve ending.
Sweat slicked my skin, sticky and shining under his touch. I was trembling, a live wire,
a storm gathering at the edge. Unraveling.
A body on the verge of coming undone.
“Goddamn…” He pounded into me as he moaned, feeling my pussy constrict around him.
Like a wave that didn’t just break but pulled me under, it crashed into me…hard. It stole my breath, tore a cry from my throat, and left my lungs gasping.
My nails sank into his arms, clinging to something solid while the rest of me came apart.
It was overwhelmingly beautiful. Too much, and still, not enough.
The pleasure was sharp and consuming, so potent it made my eyes sting.
My limbs went light, almost numb, as if my body knew to quiet everything else so that I could feel what was happening between my thighs.
“Julien…”
His name slipped out on a breath, broken and reverent, like a confession.
His thrust grew deeper, rougher, driven by how my body clenched around him.
He felt thicker, fuller, like every second inside me made him more desperate, more undone.
His chest rose and fell with labored breath, muscles tightening with each movement. Sweat rolled down his shoulders, catching the low light, turning his skin into something glistening and godlike.
And still, he didn’t take his eyes off me.
“Damn…”
His release hit with a low, guttural moan, thick and raw in my ear.
He drove himself deeper, harder, forcing a wince from me as he bottomed out, too far, too much.
But I took it.
Every single inch.
The heat of his cum spilled inside me, warm and full, so heavy I could feel the weight of it settling deep.
He didn’t move.
Just stayed there, buried to the hilt, his chest pressed to mine, breath ragged and shallow.
When his eyes found mine, they weren’t soft.
They were steady and fierce.
Like a claim whispered through heat and hunger…quiet, but impossible to ignore.
“You’re mine now.”