The Retired CEO's Guide To Being Spoiled-Chapter 119: The Symphony of Silver Bells

Just as Julian Sterling had anticipated, escape was nothing more than a fleeting illusion. The moment he fell into Ethan Caldwell’s grasp, the air seemed to thicken with a palpable tension. Julian’s gaze fell upon the man’s hands. They were clenched so tightly that the green veins beneath the skin throbbed visibly, betraying the immense, terrifying self-restraint Ethan was currently exercising.

Julian swallowed hard, his throat dry despite the overwhelming heat rising within him. For a moment, he was forced to ignore the buzzing intruder that was still ruthlessly churning deep inside his body, wreaking havoc on his senses. Trembling like a leaf in a gale, he tried the only tactic he had left—surrender.

"Husband..." He whispered, the word fragile and breathless.

Ethan’s eyes darkened, a storm brewing within their depths: "So, you know how to act spoiled now? Where was this attitude moments ago when you were so bold, so daring?"

Julian shook his head frantically, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes, but it was too late. The man had been teased to the brink of explosion. His patience had evaporated into the heat of the room. With a fluid, powerful motion, Ethan scooped Julian up into his arms. He settled himself onto the plush, soft chair where Julian had, only minutes prior, been happily indulging in solitary pleasure.

Without a word of warning, Ethan reached down. His hand was merciless as he gripped the base of the vibrating toy, which was still humming at its maximum setting, and yanked it out in one swift, unforgiving motion.

Pop.

The sound of the object sliding out of the tight, wet entrance was obscene in the sudden silence, immediately followed by a soft, broken hiccup from Julian. The sudden emptiness was jarring. One moment, he had been filled, stretched, and vibrated to the point of madness. The next, there was a hollow void that left his body trembling in shock, his nerves screaming for the sensation to return.

But Ethan granted him no time to recover, no time to even catch his breath. He shifted Julian’s position, turning him to face him directly, arranging the younger man’s limbs like a doll before pressing him down with decisive force.

"Ah!"

A scream tore from Julian’s throat. Ethan’s member, massive and unyieldingly hard, surged upward, invading the entrance that had been softened and prepared by the toy. There was no hesitation, no gentle easing in. Ethan drove straight through, burying himself to the hilt, storming into the deepest, most sensitive recesses of Julian’s body.

The impact was electrifying. Julian was thrown into a state of sensory overload, his body arching violently forward while his head threw back, exposing the long, elegant line of his throat. His mouth fell open, a continuous stream of broken whimpers escaping as his eyes filled with a haze of tears.

"Hic... Husband... Hubby... Slow... slow down, please... uhng..."

Julian sobbed openly, his composure shattered. The pleas fragmented in his throat, dissolving into inarticulate cries. His ten fingers clawed desperately at the velvet upholstery of the chair, digging in so hard that the joints of his knuckles turned stark white against the dark fabric.

His legs were forced apart, draped widely over the armrests of the chair, leaving him completely exposed. It was a posture of total vulnerability, displaying his most private secrets to the man who now commanded his body. He felt adrift, like a small, fragile boat tossed about in the eye of a violent hurricane, his body jolting and shuddering with every savage, rhythmic thrust of the man beneath him.

Ethan held him tight, locking Julian within his embrace as they crowded together on the narrow chair. His hips moved with the relentless precision of a pile driver, utilizing every ounce of his strength to hammer his thick, scalding length deep into Julian. The sheer size of him was overwhelming. Even through the haze of pleasure and pain, Julian could vividly feel the throbbing veins of Ethan’s shaft scraping against his inner walls, stretching him beyond what he thought possible, forcing him to accommodate every inch.

Julian’s entire frame shook uncontrollably. Tears pooled and spilled, blurring his vision until the world became a kaleidoscope of indistinct shapes and colors. He was lost, his mind slowly unraveling under the onslaught.

Ethan’s pace was both rapid and profoundly deep. Every forceful drive upward grazed past a specific, maddeningly sensitive spot deep within Julian. It was a form of torture, Ethan was deliberately avoiding hitting that sweet spot directly or grinding against it to grant release. Instead, the mere friction of sliding past it again and again was enough to drive Julian to the brink of insanity. It was pleasure, yes, but it wasn’t enough. It was a frantic itch deep inside his soul that needed to be scratched, a hunger that Ethan was cruelly, methodically refusing to satiate.

Julian’s legs trembled violently, the muscles in his thighs pulled taut before finally giving out, losing all strength to hang limply over the sides of the chair. He was boneless, utterly dependent on the strong, iron-like arms of Ethan Caldwell to keep him from collapsing completely.

Around Julian’s slender waist, the pale yellow ribbon still remained, a remnant of his earlier self-play. However, the bow that had been tied at the dip of his hip had come undone at some point during the chaos. Now, Ethan’s deft fingers caught the loose ends. With a wicked ingenuity, he wound the silk around the base of Julian’s erection, which stood deeply flushed and weeping.

He didn’t tie it tight enough to cut off circulation, but tight enough to create a distinct sensation of bondage. The small silver bells attached to the ribbon danced with every powerful movement of Ethan’s hips.

Jingle. Jingle.

The clear, bright sound was incongruous with the heavy atmosphere of lust. The bells chimed frantically, their cold metal surfaces brushing against the hypersensitive skin of Julian’s member.

Julian felt trapped between two extremes of sensation. His front was being tormented by the cool, metallic friction of the bells, while his interior was being incinerated by the searing heat of Ethan’s invasion. The clash between cold and hot, between the sharp sting of being stretched and the euphoric rush of fullness, created a tidal wave of pleasure that washed over him like a flash flood.

It hit him with the force of a physical blow, swamping his mind and drowning his rational thoughts. Julian gasped, his mouth gaping wide as he struggled to steal oxygen for his burning lungs, fighting to save himself from the sensation of suffocating in pure ecstasy.

Overwhelmed, he reached out blindly, his hands finding purchase on the back of the chair to anchor himself. His forehead dropped to rest in the crook of Ethan’s shoulder, seeking a moment of respite. His back arched beautifully, forming a perfect, exquisite curve. The movement caused his shoulder blades, his butterfly bones, to protrude slightly beneath his skin, looking fragile and lethally seductive.

The sight of Julian, so undone, so steeped in the colors of desire, struck a chord in Ethan. He couldn’t resist. He freed one hand to stroke down that smooth expanse of back, his thumb tracing the spine, kneading the soft skin with a possessiveness that bordered on reverence.

The movements of Ethan’s hands were incredibly gentle, a stark contrast to the violence of his hips. He treated Julian’s skin as if he were handling a priceless treasure. Occasionally, he would bring his hand up to cup Julian’s face, his thumb clumsily but tenderly wiping away the tears of pleasure that streamed down Julian’s flushed cheeks.

Then, Ethan would lean in, pressing kisses to Julian’s wet eyelashes, to his trembling lips. Even the kisses were soft, lingering, and filled with a profound reluctance to part, as if he loved Julian more than anything else in this world.

It would have been a purely romantic scene, were it not for the savage reality occurring below their waists.

Ethan’s hips worked like a high-performance engine, relentless and tireless. Every thrust was a declaration of ownership, predatory and aggressive. His member, hard as a branding iron, didn’t pause for a single second. It pounded crazily into the wet, yielding channel, the rounded head showing no mercy as it ironed out every fold, pushing relentlessly to the deepest point of Julian’s body. The roughness elicited broken hiccups from Julian, his entire body jerking in time with each punishing impact.

The room was sealed tight, the air thick and heavy with the musk of sex and pheromones. The only sounds in the stillness were the man’s heavy, guttural breathing, the wet, slapping sound of skin against skin, and the liquid noise of their union. And weaving through it all, the clear, cheerful ringing of silver bells harmonized with whimpers that sounded like a kitten being bullied.

Julian was being taken so thoroughly that he choked on his own breath, unable to bear it any longer. He clung to the armrest, summoning every last ounce of his dwindling strength to lift his head. He pressed a trembling kiss to the man’s chin, a pathetic, desperate attempt to curry favor.

Then, looking at Ethan with eyes brimming with unshed tears, he begged, his voice cracking, "Don’t... hic... don’t thrust anymore! You’re going to kill me..."