The Retired CEO's Guide To Being Spoiled Chapter 164: The Art of Possession - R18

Ethan Caldwell rely chuckled, a low, throaty sound of amusent. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Julian’s lips, silencing the scolding before it could truly begin: "I have wanted to take you right here for a long ti." He murmured against Julian’s mouth.

Fine then! Jealousy? What jealousy? That was all a lie!

This man, who seed to be in a perpetual state of estrus all year round, was clearly just using jealousy as a convenient excuse to legitimize his lust! He was just looking for a reason to fuck him. Damn it, who goes to a social gathering with high-profile friends while carrying a tube of lubricant in their pocket?

He was an animal, thinking of nothing but sex all day long.

Julian cursed inwardly, his mind reeling with indignation, but practically speaking, there was no escaping Ethan Caldwell’s demonic claws now. The man sared the gel ssy and thoroughly around Julian’s nether regions, coating the area in slickness, before promptly sinking one finger inside.

"Mmph..."

A broken moan escaped Julian’s throat as he buried his face into the leather backrest of the sofa. The sudden intrusion of the cold gel combined with the roughness of the invasion caused his entire body to tense up in a reflex of rejection.

One finger, and then quickly a second, thick and long, forced their way in, churning and stirring the interior. Ethan did not have the patience tonight for the slow, ticulous foreplay he usually perford. His fingers moved with a raw urgency, moving in and out roughly to stretch the tight walls of flesh, pressing down hard on the uneven, sensitive ridges hidden deep inside.

That secluded place was stretched beyond its comfort zone, forced to swallow two of his large fingers whole. It was coerced into opening up, compelled to soften and yield. The wet, squelching sound of the gel and fluids mixing echoed softly in the quiet room, a lewd soundtrack to their intimacy.

"Slow... slow down, please... Ethan... ngh..." Monts ago, Julian had possessed the energy to scold him, but now, all his defiance had lted away, leaving only sobbing whimpers. His hands clawed desperately at the cool leather of the sofa, his knuckles turning white as he tried to anchor himself against the tidal wave of pleasure threatening to drown him.

"I can’t go slow." Ethan growled low in his throat, his voice rough with need as he abruptly withdrew his fingers.

He moved with blinding speed to undo his belt. The tallic clack-clack of the buckle undoing sounded sharp and loud, like the cocking of a gun signaling the start of a war. The man liberated his manhood, which had been swollen and aching for what felt like hours. It sprang free, massive, veiny, and scorching hot, the crimson head already weeping pre-cum in sheer excitent.

He grabbed Julian’s waist with both hands, his grip like iron, and pulled the soft, yielding body forcefully towards him. Then, without a shred of hesitation or rcy, he drove his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt in a single, powerful thrust.

"Ahhhhh!"

Julian scread, his voice breaking as his throat constricted. The sensation was overwhelming, a feeling of being torn apart and simultaneously filled to the brim washed over him. His entire body was shoved forward by the force of the impact, sliding across the leather, but Ethan’s grip on his waist was unyielding, yanking him back onto the impaling shaft.

"Relax, baby. Relax and take . Eat up." Ethan panted, leaning down to sink his teeth into Julian’s shoulder, marking him again.

His hips began to move. At first, there were a few shallow, exploratory thrusts, testing the depth and the tightness, but very quickly, the rhythm escalated into a storm of violent, piston-like strokes.

The sound of flesh slapping against flesh rang out, crisp and rhythmic, filling the empty VVIP room. The expensive leather sofa beneath them creaked and shuddered, vibrating in ti with the frantic, maddening cadence of their union.

Julian felt as though his mind was being blended into mush by the sheer force of Ethan’s thrusts. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t formulate a coherent thought. All he could do was open his mouth and gasp for air, his moans syncing perfectly with every brutal slam of the man’s hips. One of his legs was still hooked high over the backrest of the sofa where Ethan had placed it, a position that splayed him completely open, leaving him vulnerable and allowing the man to reach the deepest, most secret parts of him. Inside, he felt like he was on fire. His inner walls contracted spasmodically, squeezing the invading length, sucking on it, silently inviting him to go deeper, harder.

"Does it feel good? Hmm? Tell , whose are you?"

Ethan gritted his teeth, growling the question as he slamd specifically and ruthlessly against Julian’s prostate—his sweet spot. To emphasize his dominance, he brought his hand down, delivering a sharp, stinging slap to Julian’s buttock.

Smack.

"Ah... good... ngh... yours... I’m yours... Ethan... too deep..." Julian sobbed openly, physiological tears streaming down his face, triggered by an overload of pleasure that bordered on pain.

Hearing the submission he craved, Ethan’s excitent spiked even higher. He leaned over Julian’s trembling form, reaching his hand underneath to grasp Julian’s semi-erect mber. He began to stroke it rapidly, pumping his hand in perfect synchronization with the savage thrusts of his hips.

Two torrents of pleasure, one from the front and one from behind, crashed into Julian simultaneously. He arched his back violently, curling up like a shrimp cooked in boiling water, his toes curling tight in his socks. He felt as though he were adrift in a stormy ocean, and this man, this brutal, loving man, was the only piece of driftwood keeping him afloat.

The room was saturated with the heavy scent of sex, the lingering aroma of whisky, and the thick, suffocating musk of possessiveness. Under the dim yellow lights, their two shadows rged and tangled on the wall, inseparable.

The frenzied rhythm was too much. Julian couldn’t hold on. His limits were shattered, and for the first ti that night, he reached his peak. With a high-pitched cry, he released, his body shuddering as he spilled onto the dark leather.

Imdiately after his release, his body was hypersensitive. He sobbed, begging Ethan for rcy: "Ethan... p-please... slow down... let rest a mont. I just ca."

Perhaps it was because Julian’s crying sounded so pitiful, or perhaps Ethan felt a flicker of benevolence, but he actually did slow down. He ceased the violent, battering ram approach he had been using. However, he did not stop. He maintained a steady rhythm, slowly withdrawing until only the tip remained inside, then slowly, agonizingly pushing back in to the very root.

It was definitely slower, but this teasing, grinding sensation was a torture of a different kind. It was driving Julian insane, dragging out the sensitivity of his post-climax nerves.

"Don’t... please..." He couldn’t help but whimper, his voice trembling as he pleaded for... he didn’t even know what. More? Less?

"You really are hard to please, my love." Ethan whispered, dropping a kiss onto Julian’s sweat-slicked back, his voice dripping with mock sympathy and dark desire: "I am doing exactly as you asked, slowing down. Why is my love still not satisfied?"