Chapter 200

[ 1,032 words ]

Katia’s POV

Before I could scramble away, he was over me. He grabbed my ankles and forced my legs apart, pinning my knees near my shoulders. He looked at me—truly looked at me—with an expression that was terrifyingly void of restraint.

“You want the truth, Katia?” he hissed. “You want to know why I haven’t fucked you p>

He didn’t wait for an answer. He grabbed his cock and positioned it. Then, with one violent, heavy surge of his hips, he drove all the way into me.

I screamed.

It wasn’t a scream of pain but of sheer, overwhelming shock. My body felt like it was being split open. He was so big, so deep, that I saw literal stars behind my eyelids. My internal muscles, which had been tight and aching for years, were forced to stretch around the full, punishing length of him.

He stopped. He stayed buried deep inside me, his chest heaving, his face inches from mine. He waited for me to adjust, for my body to stop shaking from the initial impact.

This was the first time I fully got to get his whole cock. I could feel every vein, every throb of his pulse inside me. It was a physical invasion that felt like a spiritual reclamation.

I shifted uncontrollably, my hips tilting up to meet him, and that was all the permission he needed.

He started to thrust.

It wasn’t the measured, controlled rhythm of the server room. This was destruction. He was driving into me with a force that shook the entire bed, his hips slamming against mine with a wet, heavy sound. I moaned, the sound coming from deep in my chest, and held onto him like he was the only thing keeping me from falling off the edge of the world.

“Julian,” I sobbed, my fingers digging into the muscles of his back.

He increased his pace. He was relentless. He wasn’t just fucking me; he was erasing every other man who had ever looked at me.

I was so done. I started to moan out his name over and over, my head thrashing against the pillows. I started meeting his thrusts, my body acting on instinct, trying to take even more of him.

He leaned down, grabbing one of my nipples into his mouth and biting down slightly while he continued to destroy my pussy. The dual sensation was too much. I saw stars again. My vision went white as my core began to snap.

I shook uncontrollably underneath him. My pussy started gripping and ungripping his cock in a series of violent spasms. I was coming so hard I couldn’t breathe.

“Fuck!” Julian growled.

His voice was a raw animal sound. He gave three more massive, soul-crushing thrusts, burying himself so deep I felt him hit my cervix, and then he broke. I felt the hot, heavy flood of him filling me, the sheer volume of his release making me cry out again as we both came together in a total, devastating ruin.

We lay there for a long time. He didn’t pull out. He stayed heavy and deep inside me, his heart thundering against mine.

The silence of the room returned, but it was different now. The game was over. The “tip” wasn’t enough anymore.

He lifted his head, his eyes searching mine. “Don’t ever talk to me about a wife again,” he whispered. “You know exactly who you are to me p>

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. I just pulled him closer, the scent of the reckoning still heavy in the air.

You know exactly who you are to me. What the fuck does he mean?

Julian’s POV

I dressed quickly. Grey sweatpants. White t-shirt. The kind of clothes I wore when I had stopped performing for the evening and was simply existing. I looked at Katia.

“You are not going anywhere tonight,” I said. “Stay here. I am going back to the dining room p>

I did not wait for a response. I walked out and pulled the door behind me.

The dining room was mid-conversation when I came back in. Martha was talking about something I did not care about. David was listening. Grandma was watching the door—she clocked me the moment I walked in, the way she always clocked everything, and her expression did not change.

I sat down next to Delia.

“Where is Katia?” Delia asked.

“Still busy,” I said. “Conference call. There is a significant amount of work on the London expansion — we may end up going back to the office or continuing in my study. The workload is considerable p>

Delia looked at me.

I looked at the table.

Grandma was still watching me. I did not look at her. I did not need to—I could feel the weight of her attention the way I had always felt it, since I was six years old and she had been the person in the room who saw everything and said only what she chose to say.

Gail stood up first. She collected Aiden—who had been eating dessert with the focused satisfaction of someone who had decided the evening was successful—and said her goodnights. Aiden waved at me across the table before he left. A small wave. Completely his own.

I raised a hand back.

The Kensingtons left twenty minutes later. Martha kissed my cheek, which I did not expect, and Delia showed them to the door, and when she came back, the dining room was clearing, and Grandma was still at the table.

“Can I have a word with you?” she said.

I got up and followed her to the corridor.

She turned to face me.

“Julian,” she said. “I have kept quiet about Katia. About all of it. I have kept quiet because you asked me to and because I trust your judgment even when I disagree with your methods.” She paused. “But you came back to that table tonight wearing different clothes. You were with Delia’s sister upstairs, and you came back in a different set of clothes, and Delia’s family was still at the table.” She looked at me directly. “What will they think p>

“They will think what they like,” I said.

“Julian p>

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