The Retired CEO's Guide To Being Spoiled-Chapter 169: Depths of Desire

It seemed that the time for playful teasing had come to an abrupt end. The atmosphere in the room shifted instantly, growing heavier and more intense as Ethan Caldwell decided to assert his dominance. His large hand descended through the air, landing a sharp, resounding smack against the soft, rounded curve of Julian Sterling’s buttocks. The sound of flesh striking flesh echoed crisply in the quiet space, a stinging reminder of who was in control.

"Turn around." Ethan commanded, his voice dropping to a low, gravelly register that brooked absolutely no refusal. It was the tone of a king addressing his subject, or perhaps a master instructing his possession: "Lift your hips higher. I want to see exactly how that greedy little mouth of yours swallows me whole."

Julian was already lost in a haze of overstimulation. His mind was spinning in dizzying circles, unable to latch onto a coherent thought as the waves of pleasure continued to crash over him. His intimate entrance, already thoroughly ravaged, twitched and contracted in a rhythmic, hungry spasm, silently pleading to be filled once more. In this state of vulnerability, he had no will to resist. At the man’s imperious command, he did not offer even a whisper of refusal. Instead, he obeyed with the docility of a beautiful, soulless sex doll designed solely for this man’s pleasure.

His fair, porcelain-white body, now glistening with a fine sheen of perspiration that acted like a second skin, slowly rotated. His movements were languid and heavy as he turned to face the expansive floor-to-ceiling window. Desperate for stability in a world that was tilting on its axis, Julian pressed his palms flat against the cold, hard surface of the glass, seeking an anchor to keep himself upright.

Once again, Julian found himself face-to-face with the endless night of Saint Lawrence City. It was a view of breathtaking prosperity, a sprawling tapestry of artificial light, yet it also carried a profound, bone-chilling coldness that contrasted sharply with the inferno burning behind him.

Far below, the city was alive. Even from this dizzying height, he could discern the twin rivers of headlights flowing endlessly in opposite directions, creating ribbons of white and red light that pulsed like the arteries of a giant beast. Across the void, other high-rise office buildings stood like silent sentinels, their windows still glowing with fluorescent light. In some of those illuminated squares, if one looked closely enough, the vague silhouettes of people could be seen moving about, working overtime, chasing deadlines and dreams. Further out lay the bustling commercial districts, where the lights were brighter, more chaotic, a kaleidoscope of flashing neon signs and massive billboards painting the night sky in a riot of colors.

Saint Lawrence City was truly a metropolis that never slept. It was approaching midnight, yet the world outside was still drowning in a frantic, hurried rhythm. People were rushing, struggling, and striving for their livelihoods. It was a stark juxtaposition to Julian’s current reality, where he was drowning in a very different kind of rhythm, the rhythm of the most primal, raw, and unadulterated lust.

Intellectually, Julian knew perfectly well that this was high-grade, one-way glass. It was an architectural marvel designed for privacy; those on the outside could see nothing but the reflection of the city, while those inside could see everything. Theoretically, he was safe. Yet, the human mind is a fragile thing when intoxicated by desire. The mere psychological suggestion of exposure, the vivid imagination of someone looking up from the street or across from another building and witnessing this scene of debauched copulation, made Julian’s nerves scream with heightened sensitivity.

A cocktail of intense shame and electrifying excitement swirled in his gut, causing every sensory receptor in his body to amplify the sensations tenfold. The moment Ethan’s massive glans breached the entrance, stretching the rim of his opening to its absolute limit, Julian’s entire body gave a violent jerk. His toes curled tightly against the carpet, and a gasp was torn from his throat.

Julian threw his head back, abandoning all control. The line from his slender neck down to the curve of his spine formed a perfect, exquisite arch, a silhouette of deadly seduction against the backdrop of the city lights. His eyes were half-closed, his long eyelashes fluttering like the wings of a dying butterfly. Broken, fragmented whimpers spilled from his lips, forming a melody of surrender. He let the back of his head rest against the broad, sturdy shoulder of the man behind him, seeking comfort even as that same man tormented him.

"Hubby... husband... it’s too deep..." He mumbled, his voice sounding as weak and pitiful as a newborn kitten.

"Mmm, I’m here. Just relax." Ethan’s voice was a study in contradiction. It was incredibly indulgent, dripping with a tenderness that suggested he was coaxing his most precious treasure. He even shifted his stance to cover Julian’s hands, which were still clinging desperately to the glass. Ethan laced their fingers together, interlacing all ten digits in a tight, reassuring grip that mimicked a romantic lovers’ hold.

However, the actions of his lower body betrayed absolutely no such kindness or gentleness.

Ethan moved like a perpetual motion machine, an engine of stamina that knew no fatigue. His hips snapped forward with terrifying power, maintaining a frequency of thrusts that was fast enough to induce panic. The wet, slapping sounds of skin colliding with skin echoed loudly, bouncing off the glass and filling the room with the obscene soundtrack of their union.

Julian’s entrance, having endured countless rounds of depravity, was already soft and yielding, yet it still possessed a miraculous resilience. It clung tightly to the intruder, sucking greedily at the thick, veiny shaft that was burying itself deep within him. For some reason, tonight felt different. Every single thrust from Ethan was calculated to be fast, decisive, and utterly ruthless.

There was no mercy in his movements. Each inward stroke seemed determined to seek out the deepest, most sensitive spot inside Julian’s body, aiming to crush whatever remaining scraps of reason he held onto. Ethan drove into the depths of his colon with a force that made Julian feel as though he were being skewered, as if the weapon invading him might pierce right through his stomach and impale him against the glass.

And the withdrawal was just as torturous. Ethan would pull back until he was almost completely out, leaving only the swollen head of his member teasing the very entrance of the cave, before slamming back in, hilt deep, with the force of a battering ram.

In the beginning, Julian had tried to keep up. He had attempted to hum along with this maddening rhythm, trying to coordinate his breathing and his body to accommodate the assault. But as the minutes dragged on, his resistance crumbled. His entrance felt as though it had been pounded into a swollen, numb mess. Inside, it felt as if a fire had been lit. The friction was so intense that it generated a scorching heat that radiated through his viscera.

A sensation of paralyzing numbness shot up his spine with every impact, scrambling his neural pathways until he could no longer distinguish between pain and pleasure. They had merged into a singular, overwhelming white noise. Every time that massive instrument ground against the rugged, sensitive prostate deep inside, forcing out fluids and tears alike, Julian’s body would convulse uncontrollably, his mind going completely blank.

It wasn’t long before Julian reached his limit. The overstimulation was too much for his frayed nerves to handle. He began to sob openly, hot tears blurring his vision and distorting the city lights into smeared streaks of color.

Unable to maintain his grip on the glass, one of his hands slipped free. Weakly, tremblingly, he reached down to cradle his own lower abdomen. He could feel the terrifying shape of the man inside him, pressing out against the thin skin of his stomach with every deep lunge. He pressed his hand there, a futile attempt to soothe the ache, imagining that the pressure of his palm might somehow mitigate the sour, distended feeling of being filled to bursting.

He turned his head to the side, his face flushed a deep, feverish red and wet with tears. Through his sobbing breaths, he begged the man who had lost all control behind him.

"Husby... s-slow down... I can’t take it anymore... it’s too deep... hic... please... I’m going to break... hic..."

But his pleas fell on deaf ears. The man behind him seemed possessed, his rationality completely submerged under a tidal wave of dark desire. Ethan did not slow down. If anything, he increased the intensity. The head of his shaft ground viciously in a circular motion against Julian’s internal sweet spot, wringing out every drop of pleasure.

Simultaneously, Ethan released Julian’s other hand from the glass and brought his large, calloused palm down to cover Julian’s hand, the one that was still clutching his own stomach. Ethan pressed down, his fingers interlocking with Julian’s over the soft skin of the abdomen. He rubbed the area possessively, seemingly fascinated by the terrifying intimacy of it. He wanted to feel it, the heat, the distension, the rhythmic undulation of his own thrusts reverberating through Julian’s body, felt from the outside. He wanted to feel exactly how deep he was burying himself inside his beloved.