My Accidental Billionaire Husband (Katia and Julian) novel Chapter 203

Dance for mas

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Dance for the

-Katia-

Julian climbed the stairs with a heavy, steady rhythm, and I followed.

My heart was doing a frantic, jagged beat against my ribs. I didn’t know where we were going. All I knew was that he’d stopped me at the dining table while eating dessert and told me we needed to discuss the London expansion. I knew it was a lie.

The London expansion was for my company, not his. He had no business with those files, but the look in his eyes–that dark, wired hunger that had been simmering since I walked into his mansion–told me that if I didn’t follow him, he’d simply take me right there in front of both our families.

He reached the landing and opened a heavy oak door. I entered without thinking.

The moment the door clicked shut behind me, the silence of the room felt like a physical weight. I turned around and realized we weren’t in a study or a library. We were in a bedroom. His bedroom. It smelled of him–sandalwood, expensive wool, and a sharp, masculine edge that made my thighs ache instantly.

“You wore that dress knowing what it would do to me, huh?” he said.

His voice was a low, jagged rasp. I didn’t look at his face. My eyes dropped instinctively. He wasn’t hiding it. The front of his trousers was strained, a massive, rigid line pushing against the fabric. The dick looked like it wanted to breathe because the pants were clearly too tight to contain it.

I swallowed hard, my throat feeling like it was full of dry sand.

“I don’t think it’s proper for you to want to discuss business in your bedroom, Julian,” I said.

My voice wasn’t steady. It betrayed me, trembling at the end of the sentence. I was trying to maintain the mask of the CEO, the woman who ran I* Technologies, but in this room, under the weight of his stare, that woman was disappearing.

Julian didn’t answer. He walked over to the velvet couch at the foot of the bed and sat down. He didn’t take his eyes off me as he reached for his belt. He unbuckled his trousers, then lowered his zipper.

He reached inside and set his cock free.

I gasped at the sight. I had felt the head of him inside my pussy before; I had felt the weight of him against my thigh, but seeing him fully exposed was different. He was thick, heavy, and pulsing with a dark, angry energy. He looked enormous in the din light of the room.

“Strip,” he barked.

It wasn’t a request. It was a command that bypassed my brain and went straight to my muscles. I reached for the zipper of my dress. My fingers were shaking so badly I almost couldn’t catch the metal tab. I slid it down, the silk pooling at my feet. Then the lace. Then the silk stockings. I stood there, naked and shivering, feeling the cool air of the room hit my damp skin.

“Dance for me,” he said.

My eyes went wide. I felt a flash of genuine shock. “What?”

“You heard me,” he said, leaning back, his hands resting on the arms of the couch. His cock was twitching with every breath he took. “Dance.”

What the fuck was wrong with him? The arrogance, the sheer demand of it–it should have made me walk out the door. But my body was a traitor. The “eye fucking” he was doing to me right now was so intense it felt like he was already touching me.

“Alexa, play music,” he said.

A low, bass–heavy track began to filter through the hidden speakers. I started to move. It wasn’t a polished dance; it was a slow swaying of my hips, my hands sliding over my own skin because I needed to touch something. I watched him watch me. I saw

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the way his jaw tightened, the way his knuckles turned white as he gripped the couch.

“Come here,” he barked.

I went to him. I knelt between his legs on the thick carpet. He didn’t waste time. He grabbed my hair, not roughly, but with a firm grip that tilted my head back. He guided me forward, and then he shoved his dick into itry mouth.

I choked slightly at the sheer size of him, but then adjusted. I started to suck him. I took him deep, my tongue swirling around the head, then sliding down to the base. I tasted the salt and the heat of him. I moved from the dickcap to the balls, using my hands to stroke the length he couldn’t fit in my mouth. He was groaning, a raw, guttural sound that vibrated through my skull.

But then I stopped.

I pulled away, looking up at him. Julian was always toying with my emotions. He was always playing this game of proximity and tease I knew what would happen next. He would make me wet, he would make me want him until I was sobbing, and then he would give me the tip of his cock and leave me hanging. He would never actually fuck me. He would never let go of that final bit

of control.

I got up.

“I didn’t ask you to stop, woman!” he barked, his eyes flashing with a dangerous light.

I didn’t care. I was done playing this game. His family and my family were downstairs, celebrating a merger, oblivious to the war happening in this bedroom.

“I am done playing this game, Julian,” I yelled, my voice cracking with built–up frustration. “You have never fucked me. Not once. It’s always the damn dry humping and the tip of your cock. I am done being your toy. Your wife is downstairs with your family. Leave me alone!”

The mention of his wife changed the whole mood. The air in the room didn’t just shift; it shattered.

Julian moved so fast I didn’t have time to blink. He was off the couch and on me in a second. He hauled me up, his arms like iron bands, and threw me onto the center of the bed. I hit the mattress with a thud, the breath leaving my lungs.

Before I could scramble away, he was over me. He grabbed my ankles and forced my legs apart, pinning my knees near my shoulders. He looked at me–truly looked at me with an expression that was terrifyingly void of restraint.

“You want the truth, Katia?” he hissed. “You want to know why I haven’t fucked you?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. He grabbed his cock and positioned it. Then, with one violent, heavy surge of his hips, he drove all the way into me.

I screamed.

It wasn’t a scream of pain but of sheer, overwhelming shock. My body felt like it was being split open. He was so big, so deep, that I saw literal stars behind my eyelids. My internal muscles, which had been tight and aching for years, were forced to stretch around the full, punishing length of him.

He stopped. He stayed buried deep inside me, his chest heaving, his face inches from mine. He waited for me to adjust, for my body to stop shaking from the initial impact.

This was the first time I fully got to get his whole cock. I could feel every vein, every throb of his pulse inside me. It was a physical invasion that felt like a spiritual reclamation.

I shifted uncontrollably, my hips tilting up to meet him, and that was all the permission he needed.

He started to thrust.

It wasn’t the measured, controlled rhythm of the server room. This was destruction. He was driving into me with a force that shook the entire bed, his hips slamming against mine with a wet, heavy sound. I moaned, the sound coming from deep in my chest, and held onto him like he was the only thing keeping me from falling off the edge of the world.

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“Julian,” I sobbed, my fingers digging into the muscles of his back.

He increased his pace. He was relentless. He wasn’t just fucking me; he was erasing every other man who had ever looked at me.

I was so done. I started to moan out his name over and over, my head thrashing against the pillows. I started meeting his thrusts, my body acting on instinct, trying to take even more of him.

He leaned down, grabbing one of my nipples into his mouth and biting down slightly while he continued to destroy my pussy. The dual sensation was too much. I saw stars again. My vision went white as my core began to snap.

I shook uncontrollably underneath him. My pussy started gripping and ungripping his cock in a series of violent spasms. I was coming so hard I couldn’t breathe.

“Fuck!” Julian growled.

His voice was a raw animal sound. He gave three more massive, soul–crushing thrusts, burying himself so deep I felt him hit my cervix, and then he broke. I felt the hot, heavy flood of him filling me, the sheer volume of his release making me cry out again as we both came together in a total, devastating ruin.

We lay there for a long time. He didn’t pull out. He stayed heavy and deep inside me, his heart thundering against mine.

The silence of the room returned, but it was different now. The game was over. The “tip” wasn’t enough anymore.

He lifted his head, his eyes searching mine. “Don’t ever talk to me about a wife again,” he whispered. “You know exactly who

you are to me.”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. I just pulled him closer, the scent of the reckoning still heavy in the air.

You know exactly who you are to me. What the fuck does he mean?