Chapter 56 The Flames of Desire
Julian’s hand was warm and possessive as he led Sierra through the dimly lit suite, his fingers interlacing with hers like a claim on something he intended to savor. The common room faded behind them, replaced by the hush of a bedroom that seemed to pulse with its own quiet electricity. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the Duomo’s spires like a cathedral of light, but Sierra barely registered the view. Her breath came shallow, her body taut with anticipation as Julian turned to face her, his gaze dark and molten.
“You’re trembling,” he murmured, his thumb brushing the pulse at her wrist.
“It’s not fear,” she whispered, her voice a thread of certainty against the storm within her.
A smile curved his lips. He cupped her face, his touch deliberate, his eyes never leaving hers. “Good.”
The buttons of her black silk slip dress gave way under his practiced fingers, the fabric parting like a curtain to reveal the curve of her shoulder, the slope of her collarbone. Sierra exhaled as his mouth followed the path his hands had taken, a trail of fire that left her skin humming with an electric current. When he reached the swell of her breast, she arched into him, her nails digging into his shoulders as his lips grazed the sensitive skin there.
“Julian…”
He looked up then, his pupils wide, his expression one of quiet triumph. “Shhh,” he hushed her, his voice a velvet rasp. “Let me.”
He guided her to the bed, the linen cool against her hot skin as he lowered her onto it. For a moment, he simply stared at her, his eyes drinking in the sight of her. Then, with a slow grace that bordered on ritual, he stripped off his shirt, his physique a study in precision and power.
Sierra’s gaze traced the ridges of his chest, the shadow of hair leading into the dark waistband of his pants. She wanted him. All of him. Now. But Julian moved at his own pace, settling between her thighs with a patience that both frustrated and thrilled her. Pulling the Cosabella lace thong aside, his fingers found her, slick and warm, and she gasped as he touched her with a skill that suggested he knew exactly what her body needed before she did.
“Julian…”
He silenced her with a kiss, his tongue dueling with hers as his fingers worked their magic, coaxing tremors from her core. She was unraveling, her hips thrusting upward in a silent plea. But he denied her, his mouth leaving hers to trail kisses down her neck, her chest, until he was hovering at the juncture of her thighs.
“Please,” she begged, her voice raw.
He chuckled, the sound vibrating against her skin as his mouth finally claimed her. Sierra’s entire body locked up, her fingers clawing at the sheets as pleasure detonated through her in waves. She climaxed with a shuddering cry almost immediately, Julian’s fingers stilling to let her ride the peak before he began again. This time, he was relentless, his tongue and fingers working in tandem until she shattered all over him, her thighs trembling, her breath coming in broken gasps.
And still, he didn’t relent.
“Julian,” she panted, her voice laced with equal parts desperation and reverence. “I need you inside me.”
His eyes gleamed as he obeyed, his hardness gliding over her sensitized skin until he was positioned at her entrance. He paused, his forehead resting against hers. “Tell me,” he demanded.
She understood. Tell me it was what he wanted. Tell me she was ready. Tell me this was a choice.
“Inside me,” she said, her voice a fervent vow. “Please, fuck me.”
He buried himself in her with a single, fluid thrust, and Sierra let out a choked whimper. He was everything she’d imagined, thick, burning, perfect, and yet not quite what she’d expected. There was a rawness to him now, a hunger that transcended his usual polished control. He moved slowly, deliberately, his rhythm a hypnotic rhythm that allowed her to adjust, to feel every inch of him stretching her, filling her.
“God, Sierra,” he groaned, his hands bracing on either side of her head. “You feel incredible.”
She wrapped her legs around his waist, urging him deeper. “Faster.”
He complied, his thrusts growing harder, more insistent, until the bed was rocking beneath them. Sierra matched his urgency, her nails raking down his back as pleasure coiled tight within her once more. Julian’s mouth found hers again, his kiss bruising, demanding, and with a cry, her climax came a third time, clamping around him like a vice.
He didn’t last long after that.
His body went rigid, a strangled curse escaping him as he spilled into her with a force that left them both breathless. He collapsed beside her, his arm flung across her waist as if anchoring himself to her. The silence that followed was thick with the sound of their ragged breathing, the occasional creak of the bed, the distant chime of church bells.
Sierra was still hungry for him. She coaxed his member to another erection with her hand and mouth, and then she mounted him. Arching her back and rocking back and forth on his member. His fingers found her swollen bud, caressing her, bringing her to another climax. He turned her, pushing her face-first into a thick bank of pillows and entered her from behind. His thrusts were long, deep, and powerful. He drove her over the edge twice more before he finally released inside her.
His virility proved itself over and over for the next hours as their passion continued to seek satiation.
When they finally succumbed to exhaustion, Sierra lay there, her body sated but her mind adrift. The glow of post-coital bliss was warm, pervasive, but beneath it, a sliver of unease prickled at her conscience. Memories of Ryder’s calloused hands, his quiet laughter beneath the Arizona stars, flickered like a film reel in her mind. She pushed them away. Ryder’s not for me, she told herself. He didn’t fit her anymore. Julian understood the world she was in. He belonged to it.
She turned toward him, propping her head on her hand as she studied the sharp angles of his quiet face, already lost in sleep, and then she snuggled into him and allowed herself to drift away.
When the first rays of sunlight filtered through the windows, Julian was already awake, his arm still slung over her hip. He kissed her shoulder, then her collarbone, then her lips, a slow, lingering press that stirred something primal in her.
“Sierra,” he said when they parted, his voice low, urgent. “Come with me to St. Barts. My villa overlooks the water. We’ll wake to the sound of waves. Make this last.”
Her heart somersaulted. As the idea took root, a sharp pang of reality struck. William Sterling’s stroke. The firm. Chloe would have to handle the day-to-day.
She looked at Julian, his eyes imploring, his gaze unwavering. “The firm. I need to think.”
He nodded and slipped from the bed to the bathroom. “Of course.”
Outside, the Duomo’s bells chimed, their solemn peals echoing the weight of the choice before her.