The Retired CEO's Guide To Being Spoiled-Chapter 167: The Residue of Madness

"Ethan... Oh, God, Ethan... I’m about to... ngh... I’m going to break..."

Julian Sterling’s voice fractured into a thousand shards of desperation, his pleas dissolving into broken, wet sobs. He felt as though the most sensitive, vulnerable point deep within his body was being relentlessly ground down, crushed, and worshipped all at once by the man behind him. The pleasure accumulating in his lower abdomen had transformed into a pressurized sphere of white-hot energy, swelling to the point of agony, threatening to detonate at any second.

However, because he had only recently climaxed, his body was in a state of heightened, raw sensitivity. He was teetering on the precipice, desperate to release, yet physically unable to trigger the mechanism on his own without that final push. The sensation of needing to ejaculate but being held in suspension, that exquisite, torturous purgatory between pleasure and pain, was driving him utterly insane.

"You are not allowed to cum yet."

Ethan Caldwell’s voice was a dark growl against his ear, devoid of mercy. He released one hand from Julian’s hip and slid it downwards, his large palm encompassing Julian’s manhood. His fingers clamped down ruthlessly over the glans, effectively sealing the exit and denying Julian the release he screamed for.

"Endure it. Use that little hole behind to feel the pleasure. That’s all you need right now."

"Aaaaa! No... let go... please... it’s so uncomfortable... ah!"

Julian arched his back violently, his spine curving like a bow drawn to its breaking point. His fingernails scrabbled uselessly against the cold surface of the glass, creating a sharp, screeching sound that was swallowed by his own cries. The act of being physically blocked just as the tidal wave of orgasm crashed over him caused the pleasure to rebound, sending shockwaves of electricity recoiling through his nervous system, frying every synapse from his fingertips to his toes.

Ethan was relentless. He hammered into Julian’s prostate, that sacred, swollen spot, dozens of times in rapid succession. Every thrust was a battering ram against Julian’s sanity, causing the younger man to jerk convulsively, his tears flowing so freely that he could barely draw breath to sob.

"Does it feel good? Tell me. Does it feel good?"

"Good... hic... feels so good I could die... Hubby... please... spare me..."

"Call my name."

"Ethan... Ethan... ah... ah..."

The sound of his name, chanted like a prayer in the midst of Julian’s delirium, acted as the final catalyst that shattered Ethan Caldwell’s iron-clad self-control. The last thread of restraint snapped. He abruptly released the hand that had been suffocating Julian’s desire, and at the exact same moment, he drove his hips forward with the force of a collision, burying himself to the hilt, reaching the deepest, darkest recesses of Julian’s being.

"Pffft..."

Julian let out a high-pitched, unparalleled scream, his entire frame seizing in a violent spasm. Released from its prison, the seminal fluid erupted in a powerful jet, splattering heavily against the pristine, transparent glass in front of him. The white, viscous liquid hit the surface and began to slide slowly downwards, creating jagged, translucent streaks that blurred the dazzling, multicolored panorama of the city nightscape beyond.

Simultaneously, a guttural roar tore from Ethan’s throat. He locked his arm around Julian’s waist like a vice, anchoring them together as he poured wave after wave of scalding, potent fluids deep inside. He filled the hollowness, irrigating the fiercely contracting walls of flesh that pulsed around him, marking Julian as his, inside and out. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶

For a long, suspended moment, neither of them moved. They remained locked in that intimate embrace against the window, the only sound in the vast, luxurious room being the harsh, ragged panting of two men trying to remember how to breathe.

Slowly, the adrenaline began to recede, leaving Julian completely drained of strength. His legs gave way, and he began to slide down the glass surface. Ethan caught him effortlessly, turning Julian’s limp body around to face him. He pulled the younger man into his arms, allowing Julian to lean his weight against his solid chest, and together they sank slowly to the floor.

They settled on the plush, velvet carpet, their backs resting against the bottom of the glass wall.

Next to them, the windowpane still bore the undeniable evidence of their debauchery. The streaks of fluid were beginning to dry, glowing faintly against the backlight of the skyscrapers. Julian’s eyes flickered to the mess, then looked past it to the illuminated office buildings outside. The realization of what they had just done, and where they had done it, crashed down on him. Overwhelmed by a belated wave of mortifying shame, he buried his face into the crook of Ethan’s neck, refusing to lift his head.

"You’re terrible... you bully me..." He rasped, his voice hoarse from screaming. He lifted a weak fist to punch Ethan’s chest, but the blow lacked any real force. It was soft, ineffective, more like a lover’s caress or a scratch of an itch than an attack.

Ethan Caldwell threw his head back and laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that vibrated through the chest Julian was leaning against. He lowered his head, pressing a lingering kiss onto Julian’s hair, which was dampened with sweat. His large, calloused hand moved to Julian’s bare back, stroking the trembling spine in long, soothing motions to calm the aftershocks.

"Yes, I am terrible." He admitted with shameless candor, sounding almost proud of the accusation: "But who told you to be so damn seductive? Earlier, in the banquet hall... watching you smile and chat with all those people... all I could think about was dragging you out, pinning you down, and taking you right there and then."

Julian lifted his head slightly, his eyes still swimming with a layer of unshed tears, looking vulnerable and glassy: "Are you... jealous?"

"I suppose so."

It wasn’t that Ethan Caldwell intended to give such a vague answer, but in truth, even he wasn’t entirely certain of the definition. Between two people where love supposedly did not exist, where their union was a contract, a transaction, could the ugly, twisting feeling in his gut truly be called jealousy?

Ethan didn’t know. He couldn’t put a label on it. All he knew was that under the influence of alcohol, seeing Julian bestow those radiant, polite smiles upon others, even if that ’other’ was his own best friend, had ignited a spark of irritation that quickly roared into a forest fire of possessiveness. He hated sharing even a glimpse of Julian’s charm.

The man fell silent, offering no further explanation. His hand continued its hypnotic rhythm, stroking down the curve of Julian’s spine, tracing the vertebrae. Julian, for his part, simply slumped against Ethan’s broad chest, listening to the steady beat of the man’s heart. He didn’t push for a clearer answer.

Was it necessary to dig deeper?

Probably not.

In reality, deep down in the murky waters of their hearts, both of them likely understood the answer. perhaps, for Ethan, it wasn’t romantic jealousy in the poetic sense. It was envy. It was territoriality. An object that belonged to him—a prize he had claimed, had no business looking so beautiful for anyone else.

Julian harbored this thought, letting it settle in his mind, and a faint, self-deprecating smile touched his lips. It was a cynical realization, but one he accepted.

The silence stretched out, comfortable yet heavy with unspoken words, wrapping around them like a second blanket. It lasted until Ethan suddenly reached down, taking Julian’s hand in his own. He brought the limp fingers to his lips, planting several soft, reverent kisses into the center of Julian’s palm.

"Hmm?"

Julian emitted a soft, questioning syllable. He was simply too exhausted from the ravages of their intense passion to form actual words.

The man seemed to understand his fatigue perfectly. Without needing to be asked, Ethan moved his large, warm hands down to Julian’s waist, beginning to knead and massage the sore, overtaxed muscles there. As he worked the tension out of Julian’s body, he spoke calmly, his voice breaking the quiet:

"That glass is one-way, you know. You didn’t need to worry."

"I know."

Julian’s answer was calm, immediate, and surprisingly lucid.

This response clearly caught Ethan off guard. He paused his massage for a fraction of a second. After all, Julian’s state just moments ago, the sheer, unadulterated panic, the weeping, the desperate begging to close the curtains, had been visceral. That kind of terror, the trembling of his limbs, the way his internal walls had clamped down in fright... none of that could have been faked. It was raw, genuine fear.

"I was... I was fucked stupid earlier, so I couldn’t think straight." Julian murmured, his eyes half-closed, his cheek resting against Ethan’s pectoral muscle: "But now that I’ve calmed down... if I use my brain for a second, it’s obvious."

It made sense. This was The Ebony Lounge, a private, ultra-exclusive club catering to the city’s elite, titans of industry, celebrities, and politicians. This was a VVIP suite designed for the most powerful figures in the country. Would such an establishment truly install standard transparent glass, risking the privacy and reputations of its trillion-dollar clientele? It was inconceivable.

The only reason Julian had panicked was that Ethan had driven him to the brink of madness, pounding his senses into oblivion until logic had evaporated, leaving only instinct and sensation. Now that the haze of lust had cleared, the reality of their secure, private cocoon was self-evident.