Chapter 63
Evelyn's POV
"You know what I think?" Julian's voice was low. Dangerous. Spoken directly into my ear as he leaned over me. "I think you're a liar, Evelyn Valentine. I think you've been lying to everyone for so long that you don't know how to stop."
He thrust into me from behind.
The angle was different. Deeper. Almost overwhelming. His cock hit something inside me that made my still-sensitive body jerk with overstimulation.
I gasped, my fingers clawing at the sheets. My face buried in the pillow as he set a rhythm that was nothing like before. This was raw, almost punishing. Each thrust driving the air from my lungs. Each withdrawal leaving me empty and aching.
"You lied about not caring," he said, his voice rough. Breathless. "You lied about not wanting this. You're probably lying about Arthur too."
His hips slammed against my ass with each thrust. The sound of skin on skin mixing with my broken moans and his harsh breathing.
I couldn't answer. Couldn't form words through the pleasure and the guilt and the overwhelming sensation of being taken. Claimed. Possessed in a way I'd never experienced before.
My body responded to him instinctively. Meeting each thrust. My hips tilting to take him deeper even as my mind reeled from the intensity of it all.
My pussy clenched around his cock, wet and desperate. I could feel myself getting wetter with each thrust, could feel it dripping down my thighs, obscene and undeniable.
His hand slid from my shoulder blade to wrap around my throat. Not squeezing. Just resting there. A reminder of his control. Of my vulnerability.
"Tell me the truth," he demanded. "Tell me he never touched you like this. Tell me he never fucked you. Tell me I'm the first one who matters."
And God help me, I wanted to.
Wanted to give him that truth. Wanted to see what he'd do with it.
But the words stuck in my throat. Trapped behind years of training that said never reveal weakness. Never give anyone ammunition they could use against you.
So instead I just made a broken sound. Something between a sob and a moan. And pressed my face harder into the pillow. And let him take what he needed from my body even as I held my secrets close.
He seemed to understand anyway.
His grip on my throat gentled. His other hand slid around to find my clit again, circling it with a precision that made me whimper.
"Liar," he murmured.
But this time there was something almost fond in his voice. Something that sounded like forgiveness.
"My beautiful, dangerous liar."
His fingers on my clit moved faster. More insistent. His cock drove into me relentlessly, hitting that spot inside me over and over until I couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't do anything but feel.
The second orgasm built faster than the first. Sharper. More intense because I was already so sensitive, already so overwhelmed.
"Julian—" I gasped, my voice breaking. "I can't—"
"Yes, you can," he growled against my ear. "Come for me again, Evelyn. I want to feel you."
His thumb pressed hard on my clit. His cock drove deep.
And I shattered.
The orgasm ripped through me like lightning. My pussy clenched around him in violent, rhythmic pulses. My whole body went rigid, then trembled uncontrollably as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over me.
I heard myself cry out. Heard myself sob his name. But it felt distant, disconnected, like it was happening to someone else.
The sensation of my orgasm must have pushed him over the edge. His rhythm became erratic. Desperate. His cock swelling impossibly harder inside me. His breathing harsh and ragged against my shoulder blade.
"Fuck," he groaned. "Evelyn, I'm going to—"
His whole body went rigid. His cock pulsed inside me as he came, filling the condom with his release. His arms wrapped around me, holding me tight against him as he shuddered through it, my name a broken prayer on his lips.
We collapsed together. A tangle of sweaty limbs and racing hearts.
For a long moment neither of us moved. Neither of us spoke.
His weight was heavy on top of me. Pinning me to the mattress. His cock still inside me, softening now but not yet withdrawn.
I didn't ask him to move.
Instead I focused on the feeling of his chest rising and falling against my back. The way his breath ghosted across my damp skin. The way his fingers traced idle patterns on my hip.
Eventually he shifted. Carefully withdrew from me. I felt the loss immediately, an emptiness that was almost painful.
He dealt with the condom quickly, efficiently. Then he was back, rolling us onto our sides so I was tucked against his chest. His arms wrapped around me like he was afraid I might disappear if he let go.
I could feel his heartbeat against my spine. Still rapid but gradually slowing. Could feel the dampness of sweat cooling on both our bodies. Could feel the silver cross pressed between us, a small point of pressure over my heart.
We should have slept. Should have let exhaustion claim us.
But I couldn't. Didn't want to waste a single moment of whatever time I had left.
So when his breathing evened out, when I thought he might be drifting off, I turned in his arms. Pressed my mouth to his. Let my hand slide down his chest, his stomach, lower.
He made a sound of surprise that turned into a groan when I wrapped my fingers around his cock. Already half-hard again despite everything.
"Evelyn—"
"Again," I whispered against his lips. "I want you again."
And he gave me what I wanted. Rolled me onto my back and fucked me slow and deep until I was gasping his name, my nails raking down his back as I came apart beneath him.
After, when we were both breathless and trembling, he kissed his way down my body. Settled between my thighs. Put his mouth on me with a focus that suggested he was determined to memorize every sound I made, every way my body responded to him.
He made me come twice with just his tongue. Once with his fingers inside me, curling against that spot that made me see stars. And when I begged him to fuck me again, he did, taking me from behind while I braced myself against the headboard, his hand wrapped around my throat as he drove into me with a desperation that matched my own.
We fucked like the world was ending. Like we were trying to cram a lifetime of intimacy into a single night.
Because for me, maybe we were.
Dawn was coming. And with it, consequences I couldn't avoid. The organization would know I'd failed. Would know I'd spared the senator. Would come for me.
But that was tomorrow's problem.
Tonight, I let Julian fuck me until I couldn't think. Until the only thing that existed was his body and mine, the pleasure he gave me, the way he looked at me like I was something precious instead of something broken.
When exhaustion finally claimed us both, when we collapsed into a tangle of sweat-slicked limbs and racing hearts, the sky outside was already beginning to lighten.
I felt his arms tighten around me. Felt his lips press against my shoulder.
"Sleep," he murmured. "I've got you."
And despite everything—despite the danger waiting for me, despite knowing this couldn't last—I believed him.
I closed my eyes.
And for a few stolen hours, I let myself pretend I was safe.