Chapter 33: Everything I’ve Ever Wanted Pt.II

John

London’s rain always smells like metal—cold, sharp, and indifferent.

It matches my mood perfectly.

Hours of meetings, rapid-fire decisions, and a few threats later… finally, the plant is stabilizing.

So why do I feel worse?

Because my phone hasn’t vibrated once.

Not a single message from her.

Ridiculous, really. I’ve had lovers blow up my phone minutes after I walk out the door. Needy texts, seductive selfies, desperate invitations or constant series of claims of missing me.

Selene?

Silence.

And somehow that makes me want her more.

Adrian’s name flickers across my mind like an unwanted ghost. The younger Reed brother always lingered too close. Too eager. Too hopeful.

I know she’s conflicted.

I know he hurt her.

And I know—without question—that I’m not helping him win her back.

I purposely didn’t tell her he called me earlier.

I won’t apologize for it.

A man doesn’t hand another man the weapon that could cost him the woman he wants.

Her Gifts.

I cave.

I open my phone.

Click through contacts.

Dial my New York team, I want her spoilt.

Designer clothes, Shoes and the most expensive Jewelry money can buy.

The moonstone set—the moment I saw it, I knew it belonged on her skin.

I spend almost an hour choosing each piece.

Not to impress her.

Not to buy her.

But because gifting feels… grounding.

Like marking her with something I chose.

Something intimate.

Some men mark territory with arrogance.

I do it with luxury.

Even though she’s not the type to fawn over gifts.

Even though she’ll roll her eyes or though she might think it’s too much.

Still, I can’t help it.

I want her adorned in things that make her feel powerful.

Seen and Desired.

I want her to look in the mirror and think:

Someone chose this because he wanted me.

Someone = me.

The delivery is scheduled for 10 a.m.

Perfect.

I picture her opening the door—sleep-tousled, barefoot, wrapped in a robe—and being hit with designer chaos she never asked for.

The thought makes my cock twitch.

Christ.

The Switch Inside Me.

I sink into the leather chair of my penthouse, the London skyline blinking across the glass.

My mind drifts again—uninvited—to memories.

A hand in my hair.

A whisper against my throat.

A man once pulling my hips back with a confidence I didn’t expect.

Just brief encounters. All curiosities as I explored my sexuality.

Moments of surrender that never stuck.

Because none of them had the power to strip me down all the way.

None of them had her energy.

Selene has no idea what she could do to me.

What I would let her do.

The kind of man I become when someone like her whispers, “Good boy,” in the right tone.

Not that I’d admit that part aloud yet.

Not until she earns it.

Not until I’m sure she won’t run. Now don't get me wrong I crave submissions almost as much as I crave submitting.

The Call.

A message lights up my phone.

Delivery completed.

My pulse jumps.

Without thinking, I dial.

She picks up instantly, her voice dangerously soft, sliding into my ear like silk.

“Did everything arrive?” I ask, my voice already dropping lower.

“Yes. You really didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to. I told you—I like taking care of my women. And you…”

I let the pause hang.

“You are my Goddess and deserve to be spoilt .”

“Thank you, John. Everything is stunning.” She whispers gracefully.

My chest warms—an emotion I don’t particularly enjoy acknowledging.

“How’s London?” she asks.

“Messy. Nonstop meetings. But thinking about you the entire time.”

There’s a beat. A shift.

Then her voice sharpens.

“Why didn’t you tell me Adrian called you?”

And there it is.

I exhale slowly.

Because that’s the thing about her—she doesn’t ask beat about the bush... she tackles everything head on.

“I won’t apologize Selene,” I say. “I want you. I’m not helping another man reach you.”

Silence.

Not angry… thoughtful.

Dangerous.

“Look,” I continue, “I’ll be back in two days. Are you still planning to leave? Or will you still be in New York?”

“I haven’t decided.”

“Well, I hope you stay,” I say softly, surprising even myself. “I want to take you to that rooftop jazz club I mentioned. I want more time with you.”

Her inhale is small. Barely there. But enough.

“I’d like that,” she whispers.

And my entire body reacts instantly .

“Good. And Selene?”

“Mm”

“Wear the moonstone set when we meet. It suits your energy.”

A shiver runs through her tone.

I hear it.

Feel it.

“Talk soon, beautiful.”

I hang up smiling like a man who just closed the biggest business deal of his life.

And as I sit there, London glowing outside my window, all I can think about is what it will feel like…

to finally submit to her.

To finally let her take what I’ve never fully given.

My cock aches at the thought.

I know exactly how I’ll be ending my night, I slowly unzip my pants and free my thick erection. I begin to to slowly spread my copious amounts of precum over myself and start stroking , building my tempo as I imagine her fisting me. It doesn't take long before I cum moaning her name loudly and watching the stream of thick cum spread all over my hand.