Chapter Three

CHAPTER FOUR 

The Metropolitan Museum of Art pulsed with wealth and ambition under glittering chandeliers. Ethan stood tall in his tailored tuxedo, one hand resting possessively on Victoria Lang’s lower back as cameras flashed around them. She smelled like expensive perfume and safety. Beautiful. Poised. The kind of woman who made headlines without asking questions.

“You’re gripping me a little tight tonight,” Victoria whispered with a soft laugh, tilting her head toward him. “Rough day with that new writer?”

Ethan forced a charming smile for the photographers. “Just work. Nothing I cannot handle.”

But his mind was not on Victoria. It was on Julian, always on Julian since he tumbled into his life. The way those hazel eyes had challenged him earlier, the faint scent of his cologne that had lingered in the office long after he left. Ethan’s body still remembered the night they had shared, it was practically the only thing his  mind drifted to every now and then. The tight, wet heat. The desperate sounds Julian had made while taking every brutal inch of him.

Later, alone on the balcony with a glass of whiskey, Ethan pulled out his phone and opened the revised pages Julian had sent. As he read, heat pooled low in his gut. The protagonist’s raw hunger bled through every sentence. The man is fighting himself, aching to surrender. Ethan’s cock twitched against his thigh at the memory of Julian bent over his desk that afternoon, sleeves rolled up, voice dropping low as he described exactly what he wanted to write.

Fuck.

He really wanted to surrender and pin Julian against the nearest wall, take him ravishingly  again.

He took a long deep breath wielding his mind to think straight. Julian was now his employee, he should know better that was going to happen.

The next evening, Ethan entered his office at 7:10 p.m., still wearing the navy suit from his day of meetings. The moment he saw Julian already waiting — laptop open, top two buttons of his shirt undone, hair slightly messy from running his fingers through it,  a bolt of pure want shot through him.

Julian looked up, and their eyes locked. The air thickened instantly.

“Mr. Cross,” Julian said, his voice warm and smooth, carrying a hint of genuine concern. You look extremely exhausted. Long day?”

Ethan closed the door behind him and loosened his tie, feeling the weight of Julian’s gaze on the exposed skin of his throat. “Longer than I would have liked.” He sat down, trying to ignore how good Julian smelled. “Show me the revisions.”

They started working.

“I expanded the scene where the protagonist finally cracks,” Julian said, turning the screen toward him. Their fingers brushed again. This time, Julian did not pull away immediately. “He is so fucking tired of pretending. You can feel how badly he wants to lose all sense of control, how his body is screaming for it even while his mind fights.”

Ethan read the new paragraphs slowly. His breathing grew heavier. The description was vivid, sensual. He could practically feel Julian’s words crawling over his skin.

“It is better,” Ethan murmured, voice rougher than he intended. “But I need more. I need to feel his desperation in my bones. The way his hands shake when he finally touches what he wants. The way his cock aches so badly he cannot think straight.”

Julian’s hazel eyes darkened. A faint flush crept up his neck. “Like this?” he asked quietly, leaning closer so Ethan could smell him better. “The kind of need that makes a powerful man forget his reputation for one reckless moment?

Ethan’s cock swelled fully in his trousers, thick and throbbing. He shifted in his seat, jaw clenched tight. The attraction between them was electric, undeniable. He wanted to grab Julian by the collar, yank him across the desk, bend him over and take him right here until the room smelled of both their scent mixed together.

“ Right, like that. I want our readers to feel, to taste it even”. Ethan said slowly, eyes locked on Julian’s lips. 

Julain struggled to swallow, but he kept his voice mostly steady. “I’ll try to give you what you asked for, sir. Raw. Honest. Unfiltered.” His gaze dropped briefly to Ethan’s mouth before returning to his eyes. “Tell me if I am getting closer to what you really want.”

Keep going,” Ethan said, voice strained. “Make it hurt. Make it real.”

Julian swallowed visibly. “Yes, sir.”

For the next hour, every word, every glance, every small shift in their seats felt like foreplay. Ethan found himself staring at the way Julian’s throat moved when he spoke, at the lean muscle of his forearms, at the way his lips wrapped around certain words. Julian remained mostly professional, but the occasional heated look and subtle tease made Ethan’s blood burn hotter.

When Julian finally stood to leave near the end of the session, he paused at the door, looking back with dark, hungry eyes. 

“Thank you for pushing me tonight,” he said softly. “These sessions…, they help a lot,  and they stay with me longer than they probably should.”

Ethan remained seated, gripping the edge of his desk hard enough to turn his knuckles white. His cock was painfully hard, pressing against his zipper as he watched Julian walk out.

Alone in the silence, Ethan let out a shaky breath and closed his eyes. His body ached with need. The memory of Julian’s voice saying “sir” echoed in his head, mixing with the vivid images from their night together.

He exhaled sharply, then gave in.

Ethan leaned back in his leather chair and unzipped his trousers, freeing his thick, aching cock. It was already leaking at the tip. He wrapped his hand around the heavy length and stroked slowly, eyes closing.

He pictured Julian’s mouth. Those soft, clever lips parting for him. The wet heat as Julian took him deep, hazel eyes looking up while he sucked. Ethan groaned low in his throat, stroking faster, thumb circling the sensitive head.

“Fuck… Julian,” he whispered, voice rough with need.

He imagined those lips stretched wide around him, Julian’s tongue working him, the soft sounds he would make. The memory of their one night together mixed with today’s tension,  Julian leaning close, calling him “sir,” the way his breath had hitched when their eyes met.

Ethan’s hand moved quicker, grip tight, hips bucking slightly into his fist. Pleasure coiled tight and hot at the base of his spine. With a low, broken groan, he came hard, thick ropes of cum spilling over his fingers as he imagined Julian swallowing every drop, those hazel eyes never leaving his.

He had spent years mastering control.

But Julian Hayes was making him want to burn it all down.