Chapter 14 Gus

Nothing in this world is as gorgeous as Julia Ridgeway when she comes apart at the seams. Nothing.

The intensity of her orgasm makes her cry out, her eyes shut tight as she lifts her hips. Her left-hand grips one of her luscious, round breasts while the other holds the vibrator against her clit. She's an unbelievable sight—and mine to enjoy.

I fucking love my life.

Julia is steadily coming down with heaving, breathy moans, but I'm just getting started. Reaching out, I place a hand on each of her ankles and—before she can comprehend what I have in mind—I spread her legs wide.

"August!" she blurts out, halfheartedly attempting to press her thighs together.

"Enough," I warn, pinning her with a serious expression. "You're a guest in my house, and I expect you to follow my rules. Now put those fingers in," I guide. "Right inside, and I want to hear you moan every time you're up to your palm in pussy."

"You're disgustingly controlling," she grits out, but she follows directions perfectly. Her middle and ring fingers disappear into her wet little hole and she works herself like she can't go a minute without chasing an orgasm.

She's so beautiful. I grip the bedpost, knowing I'll keep this image with me for the rest of my life.

Julia closes her eyes once more, briefly retreating into her own world before she blinks them open and locks her gaze on me. "Why," she murmurs against an exhale, watching me through hooded eyelids.

I barely register that she's speaking because her moan nearly drowns out the word.

When I don't respond, Julia pulls her fingers out and holds them up, showing them to me. They're so slick, they glint in the low lights. "Why did you want me so bad?" she asks.

She's referring to the deal. The question prompts a thousand responses in my head, responses riddled with words like revenge, ownership, regret, and obsession. But her staring at me with curious, brown eyes urges me to bite back vitriolic truths.

"Because you fuck like a professional," I tell her, avoiding the honest answer. I slide my pants down my legs. "Because I hadn't come in a pussy like yours in years. It takes a cock so, so well. Did you know that? Did you know how tight it gets?"

"No, not now. Before," she corrects needlessly. I can see the frustration building on her face. Clearly, she regrets starting a conversation right when I'm winding her up for another climax.

"Put those fingers back."

"August—"

"Put them back," I order before I walk around the bed, my cock jutting lewdly against my boxer briefs. "I told you, you're a guest in my house so you're going to follow my rules. Put. Your. Fingers. Back."

She does. She plunges them into her cunt and begins finger fucking herself in earnest while she watches me, her focus dancing between my face and my erect length. The desire in her gaze is undeniable—she really does want this.

"Good girl," I murmur, nodding with approval. "Now you can ask your question again."

"The deal," she clarifies. "Why did you want me? How did you know I would be worth it?"

I hesitate. She's not asking me to tell her I wanted her because she's radiant and has a body I've lost sleep over. She's not asking if I thought she would be a phenomenal lay. She's asking how I knew she would be worth it. Worth the hassle. Worth the time. Worth the money.

She wants to know what drew me to her.

I reach out and I grab her wrist, stilling her hand. At first, her brow pulls together in alarm like she thinks she disappointed me. But she sees my soft mien—one I so rarely wear—and her face softens too. "You made me angry. I wanted to teach you a lesson," I admit, being honest this time. "But more importantly, you're not afraid of me."

"Is everyone?"

"Yes."

"I don't know why. You're not…"

"What? I'm not cruel? Intimidating? Not as cunning as I look?"

She shakes her head. "You're good, August. Nobody has ever told you that, have they?"

Something in me breaks loose. How can Julia believe I'm good after everything I've put her through? She should loathe me. She should detest me. I intended for her to do both.

And yet that stupid, four-letter word does a number on me. Good.

All my life, I've avoided being good. I've been great. Brilliant. Unparalleled. Fucking king. But good?

"Thank you," I murmur. Nothing else seems appropriate.

Carefully, I release her wrist. Straightening my spine, I raise my chin at her. "You good?"

She nods, recognizing the gravity of what I'm saying—that I allowed her to get under my skin when so few can. "I'm good," she confirms.

"Good."

The word means something to us, I realize. Good is our word. Our plain, perfect word.

Leaning down, I brush her hair away from her face and tuck it behind her ear. She stares back at me, taking in my face before a small smile forms on hers.

"So are we going to keep talking," I ask, "or do you want my cock back in your pussy now that you've spent all this time stretching it out?"

Julia responds by handing me her vibrator. "Get rid of that."

"Say please, brat."

"Please," she replies, drawing out the word mockingly until I crush my mouth against hers in a bruising kiss that leaves her gasping.

"Safe word," I demand against her lips.

"Paris."

I pull her into my arms before I flip onto my back, determined to have her ride me to climax tonight. She wastes no time climbing on top of me and sliding me into her, exactly the way I wanted her to. I groan while she works my length inside her body. She bears her weight down on me, taking me full hilt, and everything around me disappears. It's only Julia, me, and the bed beneath us—and it's glorious.

"August." She throws her head back. "Do it again. Like last night. Make me feel good."

I love when she asks me for things. I want to give her everything—all the shit money can and can't buy. Determined to deliver, I thrust upwards, making her body bounce. Her breasts shake with each thrust, and I reach up and palm one with abject reverence because they're so impossibly perfect.

Julia lowers her hand between us and traces circles around her clit with her fingertip. Her other hand rests flat on my pectoral until she slides it behind my neck and tugs.

"Up," she groans out.

"Up?"

"Up, please," she manages to say through her heaving breaths. "Your mouth. My tits."

Yes. We're at the sentences-are-overrated part, and this is truly my favorite part. I marvel at her presence—at the way she loses her damn mind on my body.

She asked for my mouth, so I give it to her. I wrap my lips around her nipple and suck hard. Julia's nipples are my favorite kind—pink and even large by some standards—but delicious. When she's aroused, they grow so prominent, poking out through the scant clothing on her body. When she's naked? Even better. They pearl so gracefully, forming ridges on an otherwise smooth and immaculate figure.

My relentless sucking pushes her until she finally lets go. She bounces on me like her life depends on it—like the world will stop if she stops. Up and down, I take in the mesmerizing sway of her breasts, the undulation of her hips—she's so gorgeous like this.

"I love this cunt. You ride me so good," I grit out, keeping my words crude. "You live for this shit, don't you?"

She nods, clasping my cheeks with both of her hands like she's afraid I'll stop licking and sucking on her nipples without warning. I would never do that to her—but she doesn't know it.

I dare to make eye contact while I work her breasts and she grinds down on my cock. She stares back, the connection deeply—dangerously—intimate.

"Tell me these tits are for me," I command, giving us both a reprieve. If I keep it filthy, we don't have to think about anything else. Nothing else. Nothing else. Just fucking.

Julia doesn't hesitate to say, "They're for you."

"Do you let other men look at them? Touch them?"

She pauses, lip tucked back between her teeth.

"Don't lie to me," I warn, gripping her ass cheeks, one in each hand. "I've seen your pictures online. You show this body off to the entire world."

"Do you want me to stop?" she questions before she pinches her own clit and cries out.

"Never. Show them. Show everyone, Julia. Show them what they don't get to fuck."

I spank her hard with both hands, my palms making contact with the plump curves of her ass. "From now on, I'm the only one you don't tease with this body. I'll give you anything; the least you can do is cut these games. Do you understand me? Is that fucking clear?"

She nods.

"No, say it," I order before I bite softly on the smooth underside of her breast. "Say it out loud, Julia."

"No more games. No more games. No more games." She closes her eyes, chanting the words like a prayer.

Still, we both know it's a lie. We both know she lives for these little games of hers, and I want to punish her for lying to me.

"We'll see," I grit. I fix my hands over her hips. I'm moving her now, using her like a toy. I control the thrusts between us, tugging her forward when I raise my hips. Her pussy is the warmest, wettest salvation. The angle is so deep, I'll have to time my movements perfectly to ensure I have a chance to pull out.

Sensing I'm close, Julia shoots me a look. "Don't finish in me," she warns breathlessly.

I would never cross that line without her permission, but I'm not above mindfuckery. "Why not?" I demand. "You don't want it?"

Julia shakes her head.

"Women would kill to have me come in them. Give them a baby. You don't want that?"

"August…" she groans. She leans back, hair cascading over her shoulders.

"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?"

She nods. "Let's not forget, I have a safe word I can use whenever I want, and I chose not to, so that part's on me. I don't fault you for thinking it was okay to keep going."

"We're both figuring each other out," I concede.

She nods again. "And I don't mind playing. I just don't want you coming in me. That part's real."

"I respect that," I respond, immeasurably relieved that this conversation is going well. "I'm not surprised."

…And right when I thought we were out of the woods, the smile fades from Julia's face. "Why are you not surprised?"

"Well, you're not the motherly type. I'm not surprised you don't want—" I stop suddenly, seeing the crestfallen expression that briefly passes over her face and quickly switches to indignation. A moment ago, she was grinning from my apology. Now, she's recoiling from me in disgust.

"What did I do?" I question immediately. "What did I say?"

Julia's eyes narrow. "Use your head, August. I have an IUD. I don't need you to pull out to avoid getting pregnant. I've taken care of myself so I don't need to rely on your dumb ass."

"Hey," I warn.

"Some things are sacred to me," she goes on, hitting her palm against her chest twice. "I've used up every other first in my life, but I still have that one—and I'm sure as shit not giving the honor to you."

"Come on. Don't pull that shit, Julia."

"Whatever."

"No," I counter. "I made a mistake and said something hurtful. I'm sorry about it. But you're intentionally trying to hurt me and you know it. Why is that your thing? Why do you want people to think you're cold when it's the opposite of—"

"Don't psychoanalyze me," she snaps. "You have nothing to back up what you're saying. Of course I'm cold to you. You sexually harassed me at a party, extorted me into coming here, and then had the gall to say I'd be a bad mother. You're one to talk about being cold, August."

"Change the subject all you want, but I still see you. You delight in making people think you're callous, but here's a newsflash, princess: You're really not that mean."

Somehow, me telling Julia she's actually not a psychopath is the thing that offends her the most.

"You know what? I'm so glad we had this conversation because I was about to make the grave error of liking you. Maybe enough to see you again. Fuck you again. Let you come inside of me one magical day. But now, you can kiss my perfect ass goodbye."

"You'd be lucky to have my cum inside you," I snap back. But as I'm saying it aloud, I know it's an unbelievably creepy and stupid thing to say.

Julia gets up and tries to shove open the patio door, but it's stuck in the snowdrift. She jostles it repeatedly, trying desperately to get it open—while I watch her with thinly veiled amusement. "Why the hell did you bring me here?" She whirls around to face me. "Why couldn't you be a normal old pervert and jet me off to somewhere tropical to coerce me?"

"Because I live here, Julia."

"Who the hell lives in Montana?"

"The population is one point one million," I reply flatly. "So, literally a million people live here."

Exasperated, she shakes her head and has the audacity to hold up her hand to shut me up. "You're an asshole, you know that?" she hisses. "And I can't wait to get out of here and never have to see you again."

I raise both shoulders. "You think I'd miss you? This shit ran its course the minute you fled in the middle of the night. I knew better. I won't make this mistake again."

I walk out before she can get the last word in—and I hope she's furious about it.