Chapter 199

[ 1,041 words ]

Katia’s POV

Julian climbed the stairs with a heavy, steady rhythm, and I followed.

My heart was doing a frantic, jagged beat against my ribs. I didn’t know where we were going. All I knew was that he’d stopped me at the dining table while eating dessert and told me we needed to discuss the London expansion. I knew it was a lie.

The London expansion was for my company, not his. He had no business with those files, but the look in his eyes—that dark, wired hunger that had been simmering since I walked into his mansion—told me that if I didn’t follow him, he’d simply take me right there in front of both our families.

He reached the landing and opened a heavy oak door. I entered without thinking.

The moment the door clicked shut behind me, the silence of the room felt like a physical weight. I turned around and realized we weren’t in a study or a library. We were in a bedroom. His bedroom. It smelled of him—sandalwood, expensive wool, and a sharp, masculine edge that made my thighs ache instantly.

“You wore that dress knowing what it would do to me, huh?” he said.

His voice was a low, jagged rasp. I didn’t look at his face. My eyes dropped instinctively. He wasn’t hiding it. The front of his trousers was strained, a massive, rigid line pushing against the fabric. The dick looked like it wanted to breathe because the pants were clearly too tight to contain it.

I swallowed hard, my throat feeling like it was full of dry sand.

“I don’t think it’s proper for you to want to discuss business in your bedroom, Julian,” I said.

My voice wasn’t steady. It betrayed me, trembling at the end of the sentence. I was trying to maintain the mask of the CEO, the woman who ran IG Technologies, but in this room, under the weight of his stare, that woman was disappearing.

Julian didn’t answer. He walked over to the velvet couch at the foot of the bed and sat down. He didn’t take his eyes off me as he reached for his belt. He unbuckled his trousers, then lowered his zipper.

He reached inside and set his cock free.

I gasped at the sight. I had felt the head of him inside my pussy before; I had felt the weight of him against my thigh, but seeing him fully exposed was different. He was thick, heavy, and pulsing with a dark, angry energy. He looked enormous in the dim light of the room.

“Strip,” he barked.

It wasn’t a request. It was a command that bypassed my brain and went straight to my muscles. I reached for the zipper of my dress. My fingers were shaking so badly I almost couldn’t catch the metal tab. I slid it down, the silk pooling at my feet. Then the lace. Then the silk stockings. I stood there, naked and shivering, feeling the cool air of the room hit my damp skin.

“Dance for me,” he said.

My eyes went wide. I felt a flash of genuine shock. “What p>

“You heard me,” he said, leaning back, his hands resting on the arms of the couch. His cock was twitching with every breath he took. “Dance p>

What the fuck was wrong with him? The arrogance, the sheer demand of it—it should have made me walk out the door. But my body was a traitor. The “eye fucking” he was doing to me right now was so intense it felt like he was already touching me.

“Alexa, play music,” he said.

A low, bass-heavy track began to filter through the hidden speakers. I started to move. It wasn’t a polished dance; it was a slow swaying of my hips, my hands sliding over my own skin because I needed to touch something. I watched him watch me. I saw the way his jaw tightened, the way his knuckles turned white as he gripped the couch.

“Come here,” he barked.

I went to him. I knelt between his legs on the thick carpet. He didn’t waste time. He grabbed my hair, not roughly, but with a firm grip that tilted my head back. He guided me forward, and then he shoved his dick into my mouth.

I choked slightly at the sheer size of him, but then I adjusted. I started to suck him. I took him deep, my tongue swirling around the head, then sliding down to the base. I tasted the salt and the heat of him. I moved from the dickcap to the balls, using my hands to stroke the length he couldn’t fit in my mouth. He was groaning, a raw, guttural sound that vibrated through my skull.

But then I stopped.

I pulled away, looking up at him. Julian was always toying with my emotions. He was always playing this game of proximity and tease. I knew what would happen next. He would make me wet, he would make me want him until I was sobbing, and then he would give me the tip of his cock and leave me hanging. He would never actually fuck me. He would never let go of that final bit of control.

I got up.

“I didn’t ask you to stop, woman!” he barked, his eyes flashing with a dangerous light.

I didn’t care. I was done playing this game. His family and my family were downstairs, celebrating a merger, oblivious to the war happening in this bedroom.

“I am done playing this game, Julian,” I yelled, my voice cracking with built-up frustration. “You have never fucked me. Not once. It’s always the damn dry humping and the tip of your cock. I am done being your toy. Your wife is downstairs with your family. Leave me alone p>

The mention of his wife changed the whole mood. The air in the room didn’t just shift; it shattered.

Julian moved so fast I didn’t have time to blink. He was off the couch and on me in a second. He hauled me up, his arms like iron bands, and threw me onto the center of the bed. I hit the mattress with a thud, the breath leaving my lungs.

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