Chapter 62
Evelyn's POV
I let my arm fall away. Let him see the flush on my skin, the rapid rise and fall of my chest, the way my pupils had blown wide with desire and something that felt dangerously close to trust.
And when he kissed me again, when his hand slid down my body with renewed purpose, when he positioned himself between my thighs and I felt the blunt head of his cock pressing against my entrance, I kept my eyes open. Kept my gaze locked with his.
He entered me slowly. So slowly that it felt like torture. Like he was afraid I might shatter if he moved too quickly.
I felt the stretch. The burn of my body accommodating him. He was thick, and it had been never, and the intrusion was almost too much.
I couldn't stop the way my face tightened. The way my breath hitched with discomfort.
His eyes widened slightly. His brow furrowed. Sweat began to bead on his forehead despite the coolness of the room.
His jaw clenched, the muscle jumping beneath the skin. I could see the tension in every line of his body. In the way his abdominal muscles contracted. The way his shoulders trembled with the effort of holding himself still.
He stopped. Swallowed hard. Tried again.
"Have you—" His voice came out strained. Carefully casual in a way that immediately made me suspicious. "Have you done this before?"
The question caught me off guard.
I blinked up at him, trying to read the intention behind it. Was he genuinely asking? Or was this some attempt to gauge whether his own inexperience would be obvious by comparison?
Then I understood.
A laugh bubbled up in my throat. Not mocking. Just... amused. Fond, even.
"Julian." I reached up, brushing a strand of damp hair from his forehead. "You're so stupid sometimes."
His eyes narrowed. "What?"
"I was married, remember?" I let the words hang between us. "My husband died. Did you forget that part?"
I watched the realization hit him. The way his face went through several expressions in rapid succession. Embarrassment. Relief. Something that looked almost like disappointment.
"Right," he said finally. "Of course. Arthur."
But there was something off about his tone. Something that made me study him more carefully.
And then I saw it. The way he wouldn't quite meet my eyes. The tension that hadn't left his shoulders despite my answer. The way his cock twitched inside me, still hard but somehow uncertain.
"Wait." I tilted my head, genuinely curious now. "Did you actually think I was a virgin? Or were you asking because you're—"
His mouth crashed down on mine, silencing me. The kiss was desperate, almost angry. Like he was trying to erase the words I'd been about to say.
The movement drove him deeper inside me. Made me gasp against his lips. Made my pussy clench around his cock involuntarily.
When he pulled back, his eyes were dark. Dangerous.
"I don't care about Arthur," he said, his voice rough. "I don't care that he was there first. Because he's dead, and I'm here, and right now you're mine."
The possessiveness in his tone should have alarmed me. Should have triggered every warning bell.
But instead it sent heat coiling through my belly. Made my breath catch. Made me wet enough that I could feel it, slick and obscene where our bodies joined.
"Yours," I repeated softly. Testing the word. Testing him.
"Mine," he confirmed.
And then he moved.
The careful restraint from before shattered. He pulled back until just the head of his cock remained inside me, then thrust in hard. Deep. Filling me completely.
I gasped, my hands flying up to grip his shoulders. My nails dug into his skin as he set a rhythm that was nothing like the hesitant movements from before.
This was raw. Primal. Each thrust deeper than the last. Each withdrawal leaving me empty and aching for him to fill me again.
The wet sounds of our fucking filled the room. Obscene and undeniable. His cock driving into my pussy over and over, my body accepting him, welcoming him, despite the burn and stretch.
"Say it," he demanded, his breath hot against my ear. "Say you're mine."
I turned my head away, refusing. Not because it wasn't true. But because saying it out loud would make it real. Would give him power over me that I couldn't afford to surrender.
His hand shot out, gripping my chin. Forcing me to look at him.
His cock never stopped moving. Never stopped claiming me.
"Say it, Evelyn."
"No."
The word came out defiant. Challenging.
Something shifted in his eyes. Not anger. Something darker. More determined.
He adjusted his angle slightly. The next thrust hit something inside me that made stars explode behind my eyes.
I cried out, my back arching off the mattress. My pussy clenched around him involuntarily.
"There it is," he murmured, satisfaction in his voice. "Found it."
He hit that spot again. And again. Each thrust precise and deliberate. His hand slid between our bodies, finding my clit and circling it with his thumb.
The dual sensation was overwhelming. His cock inside me, thick and hard and hitting that perfect spot with every thrust. His thumb on my clit, applying just the right amount of pressure.
I could feel the orgasm building. Fast and inevitable. A tightening coil of pleasure that had nowhere to go but up and out.
"Julian—" His name came out broken. Desperate.
"That's right," he said, his voice rough. "Say my name. Let me hear you."
His thumb pressed harder on my clit. His cock drove deeper, faster, relentless in its pursuit of my pleasure.
And then I was coming. Hard. My pussy clenching around his cock in rhythmic pulses as pleasure crashed through me in waves. My whole body shook with it. My nails raked down his back as I gasped his name over and over.
He didn't stop. Didn't slow down. Just kept fucking me through it, prolonging the pleasure until I was trembling and oversensitive and barely coherent.
When I finally came down, gasping for breath, I realized he was still hard inside me. Still moving. His jaw was clenched, his breathing harsh, but he hadn't come.
"Julian—"
"No." The word was sharp. Final. "Not yet."
Before I could ask what he meant, his hands were on me. Flipping me over with a roughness that should have alarmed me but instead sent a jolt of dark anticipation through my system.
He pressed me face-down into the mattress. One hand between my shoulder blades. The other gripping my hip as he adjusted his position.
I felt the head of his cock at my entrance again. From this angle it felt different. More vulnerable.