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“You don’t want me to fill you up? You don’t want your breasts to get big and swollen with milk, Julia? Because I’d worship you. Massage your back every night. Rub cocoa butter on your growing belly and tits. Suck the milk out of you when you’re engorged. Make you feel like a queen.”
“Jesus, do it then,” she grits out, exasperation radiating off of her. She digs her nails into my shoulders so ferociously that I fully expect to find blood later. “Do it. Come in me, August.”
“Wait, what?” I demand, not expecting that response in the slightest. My pulse quickens and her words alone have my orgasm cresting to the surface. So close—so fucking close.
“No,” she interjects frantically, shaking her head. “God, you’re good at this. Not inside. Not inside.”
“I won’t,” I assure her just as hastily. “I wouldn’t.”
Immediately after I finish speaking, she cries out, her body shaking with the radiant waves of pleasure. Her muscles tighten around me, pulsating around my cock and squeezing me to the point of ecstasy. Her back arches, sensuous and curvy, and she throws her head back.
As I watch her swear and gasp through her full-body climax, I get there. Satisfaction crests over me, making the entire world blurry and luminous. Abruptly, I pull out and flip her onto her back. I give myself another swipe and spurt a jet of my cum over her breasts. White paints her soft skin, complimenting the red from my rough hands and my stubble.
She looks utterly and perfectly fucked.
This is it. This is officially the best sex of my life.
Panting, she rolls off the bed, stands in front of me—and slaps me across the face so hard my head jerks to the side.
“If you ever try to come inside me again, I will fucking ruin you,” she warns, eyes alight with fury and hurt, before she stalks off to her bathroom and slams the door.
***
The next morning, I find Julia in the heated back patio. When I burst in, tense from having searched unsuccessfully for her in four other rooms, she shoots me an annoyed look over her cup of coffee. Yeah, she’s still angry—and of course, she’s exquisite when she’s angry…
…which makes this conversation even more miserable.
I take a seat next to her on the upholstered patio bench. Snow is piling beyond the glass windows, much higher than a foot today. We watch the snowfall in silence together, both of us sipping coffee.
“Hi,” I finally murmur.
She shoots a glare out of the side of her eye. “Good morning.”
“Can we talk about last night?”
Her sigh is so heavy that it sounds painful. “What about it?”
“I’m sorry,” I say simply. “You have a hard limit, and I didn’t respect it. I was in the moment. But I swear to you, I’m never going to talk about coming inside you again. You have my word.”
Julia surveys my face like she can determine whether I’m sincere or not. I am—for the record. In fact, I’m a bona fide mess over it. I barely slept, and when I did finally doze off, I awoke in a panic thinking she would sneak out before I could explain myself.
I’m a lot of things. I’m a hard ass when it comes to management and I say whatever the hell I want to whoever the hell I want. I’m conceited and proud of it. I’m a recluse at best and a misanthrope at worst. But I’m not—and I take this seriously—I am not above admitting when I’m wrong. Leaders who can’t admit when they’re wrong surround themselves with yes-men and sycophants—and they don’t become billionaires.
“Apology accepted, August. That’s very mature of you,” she finally says.
“Well, I’m forty-three,” I remind her. “A grown ass man. I know how to apologize when I’m wrong.”
“Yeah, it’s refreshing. Men like you typically don’t apologize….But it’s a waste of breath. I’m not mad at you.”
Her admission is like a record scratch. Confused, I tighten my brow. “Sorry, what?”
“I was mad at first,” she admits, shifting her body to face me. “I was obviously angry when I slapped you. But after you left, I thought about it and I figured you were…” She sways her head side to side, letting the gesture do all the talking for her.
“I was doing a thing,” I confirm with this stupid, dumfounded expression on my face—but I don’t understand what’s happening here. I was expecting another fight. Are we…agreeing? “Exactly.”
Julia raises a shoulder. “Well, once I realized what you were doing, I wasn’t upset with you. It was kind of hot, actually.”
“Was it?”
