Chapter 86
Evelyn's POV
He didn't. He fucked me with a kind of desperate fury, like he was trying to fuck the frustration out of his system, trying to claim what he couldn't have in any other way. His cock hit deep with every thrust, stretching me, filling me so completely I could barely breathe.
His hand fisted in my hair, holding me in place as he drove into me again and again. Each thrust was punishing, relentless, edged with the anger and need he couldn't express any other way.
"Say my name," he demanded against my neck.
"Julian—"
"Again."
"Julian—" It came out broken, desperate.
"Don't forget it." He drove deeper, harder, his cock hitting that spot inside me that made stars explode behind my eyelids. "Don't forget who's inside you. Who's making you feel this. Don't forget that next time you try to push me away."
I couldn't speak, couldn't think. Could only hold on as he took me with a ferocity that felt like both punishment and worship. Every thrust drove me higher, the pressure building low in my belly until I thought I might shatter from it.
My nails scored down his back, breaking skin. He groaned at the pain, and it seemed to snap something in him. He shifted the angle slightly, and suddenly he was hitting that spot inside me with every brutal thrust.
"Julian—I can't—I'm going to—"
"Then come." His hand slid between us, his thumb finding my clit. "Come on my cock, Evelyn. Let me feel it."
The dual sensation—his cock pounding into me, his thumb circling my clit with perfect pressure—shattered me.
The orgasm hit like a tidal wave, starting deep in my core and radiating outward until every nerve ending was on fire.
My body convulsed around him, my pussy clenching rhythmically, trying to pull him deeper. His name tore from my throat—raw, desperate, almost a scream.
"Fuck—" He groaned as my walls squeezed him. "You're so tight—I can't—"
He managed three more savage thrusts before he broke. His teeth sank into my shoulder—hard enough to leave marks, hard enough that the pain mixed with the last waves of my orgasm and made me cry out again.
His cock pulsed inside me as he came, his whole body shuddering, a sound escaping him that was almost anguished—like the release was as much pain as pleasure.
He collapsed on top of me, both of us trembling, gasping for air. I could feel his heart hammering against my chest, could feel him still twitching inside me as the aftershocks rolled through us both.
For a long moment neither of us moved. Just breathed. Just felt.
He was still inside me. His arms wrapped around me tightly, almost desperately, and then his mouth found mine again. This kiss was different—slower, deeper, like he was trying to memorize the taste of me. His tongue swept against mine with languid possession while his hips began to move again, shallow grinding motions that kept me stretched around him.
The sensitivity from my orgasm made every small movement feel electric. I gasped against his mouth, and he swallowed the sound, kissing me harder. His hands slid down to grip my ass, holding me in place as he rocked into me with deliberate slowness.
"Julian—" I was trembling again, my body responding despite having just been shattered. "I can't—it's too much—"
"You can." He kissed along my jaw, my neck, his cock still moving inside me. "I can feel you getting wet again. Feel you starting to clench around me."
He was right. The overstimulation was shifting into something else—a new wave of arousal building despite the fact that I'd just come so hard I'd seen stars. My hips began to move with his, seeking more friction.
Only then did he finally pull out. I whimpered at the loss, suddenly empty, and he made a low sound of satisfaction at my reaction.
He rolled onto his side, pulled me against him, and just held me. His arms were tight around me, his face buried in my neck, his breathing still uneven.
"I can accept this," he said finally, his voice rough. "Keeping it private. For now. I don't like it, but I can accept it."
I nodded against his chest, relief flooding through me.
"But—" His hand came up to tilt my face toward his. "If we're doing this, you can't hide things from me. Not the important things. If something's happening—if you're in danger, if you're planning something—I need to know."
My breath caught. The image of my mother's case file flashed through my mind—the loan sharks, the men who'd killed her, the revenge I'd been planning in the dark corners of my thoughts.
"Evelyn." His thumb brushed across my cheekbone. "I'm serious. No more secrets between us. Not about the things that matter."
I thought about the names in that file. The addresses. The surveillance I'd already begun. The careful planning of how I would make each of them pay for what they'd done to her.
"Okay," I whispered. "I promise. No more secrets."
It wasn't exactly a lie. The revenge wasn't happening yet. Wasn't imminent. When the time came—when I actually moved forward with it—I would tell him.
At least, that's what I told myself.
"Good." He kissed my forehead, then slowly disentangled himself from me and sat up on the edge of the bed.
He was leaving.
Of course he was leaving. That's what this was—physical release, nothing more. He'd said the words, made his point, and now he was done.
"Stay," I whispered before I could stop myself. "Please stay."
He turned to look at me. Something shifted in his expression—surprise, then understanding, then something softer. I watched as he dealt with the condom, tying it off and dropping it in the waste basket.
"I'm not leaving." He disappeared into the bathroom for a moment, and I heard water running. When he came back, he had a warm washcloth in his hand.
He sat on the edge of the bed, gently pushed my thighs apart. I flinched at the first touch of the cloth—oversensitive, raw—but he was careful, thorough, cleaning away the evidence of what we'd done with surprising tenderness.
"I'm just taking care of you," he said quietly, his eyes meeting mine. "That's all."
When he finished, he tossed the cloth toward the bathroom, then climbed back into bed and pulled me against him. His arms wrapped around me, solid and warm, and I felt something in my chest unclench.
"I'm not going anywhere," he repeated, his lips against my hair. "I promise. Go to sleep, Evelyn. I'll be here in the morning."
I closed my eyes, let myself relax into his embrace.
And if a small part of me whispered that I was already breaking my promise, that keeping the revenge plan from him was exactly the kind of secret he'd just asked me not to keep—
I ignored it.
For now, I let myself have this.
Even knowing it couldn't last.
Even knowing I would probably ruin it.
For now, I let myself be held.
And that was enough.
I was drifting toward sleep, warm and safe in Julian's arms, when my phone buzzed on the nightstand. The sound cut through the comfortable haze, jarring and intrusive.
I groaned, reaching for it without opening my eyes. "Who the hell calls at this hour—"
The name on the screen made me freeze.
Isabella Russell.