The Retired CEO's Guide To Being Spoiled-Chapter 192: Wilderness and Want

Julian Sterling did not hesitate. His patience had worn thin, frayed by the palpable tension that hung heavy in the air between them. With a sudden, impulsive movement, he reached out, his slender fingers closing firmly around the man’s hand, anchoring him in place. His eyes, bright with a mixture of challenge and desire, locked onto Ethan’s as he demanded: "Are you truly not intending to resolve this situation?"

As the question hung in the charged silence, Julian lifted his leg. It was a brazen, calculated move. He pressed the sole of his foot directly against the evident swell in Ethan Caldwell’s trousers, a rigid testament to the man’s arousal that had already tented the dark fabric. Somewhere amidst the earlier chaos of their heated exchange, Julian had lost his shoes. He couldn’t even recall when they had slipped off. Now, only his pristine white socks remained, hugging the contours of his feet.

The visual contrast was striking, almost artistic in its eroticism. The stark, innocent white of the cotton sock against the expensive, dark material of Ethan’s trousers created a visual shock that heightened the sensory experience. Against the backdrop of Julian’s pale, alabaster skin, the sight was incredibly suggestive. But it was not just a visual display. Julian’s foot was not stationary. His small, restless foot moved with deliberate intent, kneading and rubbing against the hardness beneath the fabric. He could feel the scorching heat radiating from the man, a feverish warmth that promised release. It was a dangerous game, a deliberate provocation meant to rouse the slumbering beast that lay dormant within Ethan, urging it to wake and devour him.

However, the man before him seemed possessed by an inexplicable restraint today. Despite Julian’s overt seduction, a rare and precious thing given his usually proud nature, Ethan simply shook his head. It was a gesture of refusal that sent a shockwave of disbelief through Julian. Ethan’s large, calloused hand descended, wrapping around Julian’s slender ankle with a grip that was firm yet frustratingly controlling, effectively halting the mischievous exploration of Julian’s foot.

Ethan leaned down, pressing a kiss to Julian’s cheek, a gesture far too chaste for the fire burning in Julian’s veins. Then, to Julian’s absolute horror, Ethan actually began to rearrange Julian’s dishevelled clothing, attempting to pull the trousers back up to cover the long, shapely legs that had been so invitingly bared to the air.

Julian felt as though he were being driven to the brink of insanity. A volatile cocktail of fury and unslaked lust exploded within him, shattering his patience. He lunged forward, his hands bunching into the fabric of Ethan’s collar. With a violent tug, he hauled the larger man down toward him and crashed their lips together, or rather, he attacked Ethan’s mouth. He bit down on the man’s lower lip, hard. He used enough force that when he finally pulled back, a crimson bead of blood welled up on Ethan Caldwell’s thin, expressive lips, marking him.

"Speak." Julian hissed, his chest heaving: "What exactly is wrong with you today? The fat is dangling right in front of the cat’s mouth, and you’re turning up your nose? Or is it that my desire simply doesn’t matter to you? Do you find my interest negligible?"

"I am not turning up my nose, nor do I find you negligible." Ethan sighed, the sound heavy and ragged. His voice was a low, gravelly rumble, thick with suppressed restraint. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against Julian’s bony shoulder, inhaling deeply as if the younger man’s scent was the only thing anchoring him to sanity: "I just... I don’t want you to think that my treatment of you, my care for you, is simply a transaction, a repayment for our sexual compatibility. I need you to understand that I cherish you for far more than just this."

Silence stretched between them.

Listening to Ethan Caldwell’s confession, Julian found himself momentarily bereft of words. His eyes widened, fixing on the sharp, masculine profile of the man resting against his shoulder. To be brutally honest, Julian had never plagued himself with such complex, philosophical worries. His approach to their intimacy was far more pragmatic: they went to bed, they made love, and as long as both parties derived pleasure and comfort from the act, that was sufficient. If it weren’t Ethan, it would be someone else. In the high society they navigated, there was no shortage of individuals who would claw their way over broken glass just for a chance to climb into Julian Sterling’s bed.

Julian was not so insecure that he viewed himself merely as a vessel for someone else’s release. He did not interpret the pampering he received as a pitiful reward for providing sexual relief. He knew his worth. He knew exactly where he stood in the world, and he knew, deep down, that Ethan Caldwell was not that kind of man. To think otherwise was effectively devaluing himself, complicating a relationship that, in Julian’s eyes, should have been delightfully simple.

"Ethan Caldwell." Julian said, his voice dripping with incredulity: "Are you an adolescent boy going through puberty? Only hormonal teenagers with chemically imbalanced brains and heads full of unrealistic daydreams come up with that kind of nonsense! We are adults. We have needs, and we resolve them. Why are you making this so incredibly complicated?"

Ethan remained silent for several seconds, his breathing syncing with the rustle of the wind around them. He seemed to be digesting Julian’s scathing rebuke. Finally, he lifted his head, his voice dropping an octave, solemn: "You are the one acting like a child. You simply do not understand my heart."

Julian stared at him. Since when had the formidable Ethan Caldwell become so juvenile and melodramatic?

"Fine." Julian scoffed, his eyes flashing dangerously: "So, is this old uncle going to continue or not? If you can’t perform, then get out of the way. Step aside so I can find someone young, someone from my own generation who has the energy to... mph!"

Julian’s provocation was cut short, stifled in his throat as a sudden, rough action elicited a startled cry from his lips. His trousers had long since been discarded, tossed carelessly into a corner of their secluded surroundings, leaving his lower half clad only in thin, cotton briefs. Ethan, abandoning his previous philosophical stance without a word of warning, reached out. He hooked his fingers into the fabric, easily dragging the barrier aside.

There was no preamble. Ethan’s rough, calloused finger pushed directly into the tight, secluded entrance below.

It was a shock to the system. Although they had shared intimacy countless times, and Julian’s body was attuned to Ethan’s touch, making acceptance slightly easier than it might have been for another, it did not mean the body was ready for such abrupt intrusion. Ethan had skipped the gentle comforting, the careful preparation, and the necessary lubrication, opting instead to storm the gates. The sudden invasion caused the soft, delicate walls of flesh to spasm and contract violently in defense.

Even though it was only a single finger, the dryness and the speed created a sharp, stinging friction. A sensation of stretching and raw discomfort flared up, causing Julian to grimace in genuine pain. His reflex was immediate. He lifted his leg and kicked out violently at the man, his voice rising in a shout of anger: "Get lost! That hurts like hell! You’re killing me!"

"You were the one demanding we continue, and now you are the one chasing me away." Ethan growled, catching the flailing limb mid-air. His grip was like iron, pinning Julian’s leg down. His voice carried a dangerous edge, dark and predatory, yet his hand did not retreat: "You are incredibly difficult to please, Julian."

"Screw you! I don’t want to do it anymore! Get the hell away from me immediately, you brute!" Julian yelled, struggling against the hold.

"Hush now. Be good." Ethan’s tone shifted instantly, the aggression melting into a contrite softness: "I apologize. I was... too hasty. I lost my head."

As he spoke, the man lowered his body, his lips finding Julian’s cheek again, this time pressing a kiss there with infinite tenderness, as if seeking forgiveness. He moved to kiss Julian’s trembling eyelids, fluttering shut against the sensation. It was a known fact that Ethan Caldwell harbored a particular obsession with kissing Julian’s face, treating every inch of skin as if it were a rare, priceless treasure that might shatter if mishandled.

Sensing the resistance draining out of Julian’s tense frame, Ethan’s movements underwent a complete transformation. The roughness vanished, replaced by a patient, rhythmic gentleness. His finger, now slicker with the body’s natural reaction to proximity, moved with practiced dexterity inside the hot, tight channel. He explored the internal landscape with reverence, patiently smoothing out the folds, stretching the tight ring of muscle with agonizing slowness.

He sought out that familiar, sensitive spot, the sweet point he knew by heart, and began to circle it. He pressed down firmly, then released, pressed and released, teasing the bundle of nerves. It was a masterclass in stimulation, coaxing the dormant desire within Julian’s body to awaken, forcing the pleasure to climb, inch by agonizing inch, completely overriding the lingering sting of the initial entry.

The technical proficiency of the man’s touch was undeniable, but it was the environment that acted as the true accelerant. The teasing caresses were amplified by the sheer thrill of their surroundings. The forbidden nature of their location, the vastness of the sky above and the wildness of the world around them, turned every sensation into a high-voltage shock. The feeling of engaging in such a private, illicit act amidst the open air injected a massive dose of adrenaline into their bloodstreams.

It rushed through their veins like liquid fire. Julian’s heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic rhythm that far exceeded his normal resting rate. His breathing grew ragged and heavy, gasps tearing from his throat. They were pressed together so tightly that the boundaries between them seemed to blur. The heat of their skin fused, and in the quiet of the wild, Julian could almost hear the thundering echo of Ethan’s heartbeat, pounding a heavy rhythm that matched his own, two distinct sounds merging into a singular, chaotic cadence.

Perhaps it was the accumulation of frustration, a weariness of always letting Ethan take the lead, of always being the one controlled and maneuvered. Or perhaps the untamed environment had stripped away Julian’s usual composure, awakening a primal urge to claim rather than be claimed.

Whatever the catalyst, Julian decided he had had enough of passivity.

With a sudden surge of strength, he arched his back, lifting his torso to press himself flush against Ethan’s solid, muscular chest. The arms that had been draped loosely around Ethan’s neck suddenly tightened, locking into place like a vice. His fingers buried themselves deep into the man’s hair, gripping the strands firmly. With a demanding growl low in his throat, Julian pulled the towering man down, collapsing the remaining space between them until they were breathing the same air, forcing Ethan to submit to his own rising hunger.