Page 64 of Secret Heir For The Billionaire Twin

His girth fills me completely, pressing against my walls, my clit throbbing from the fullness.

He grabs my leg, hooking it over his shoulder, adjusting our position so he can sink even deeper. The sensation is overwhelming, the pleasure sharp and consuming.

Julian starts to move, pulling out slowly before slamming back inside me with force. He repeats this, as he watches his cock go in and out, his length wet and coated in our shared arousal.

I cry out, my fingers clawing at his back, leaving scratches down his skin as he fucks me deep, hard, mercilessly.

“You feel so fucking good, Sophie” he grits out, his hips driving into mine, his thrusts brutal and precise.

I can barely form words, my mind spinning, my body on fire. I cling to him, my nails digging into his muscles, my moans loud and desperate as he pounds into me, his cock hitting every perfect spot.

His hand slides between us, his thumb pressing against my clit, rubbing in perfect circles. My body tightens again, the pressure unbearable.

“I’m close,” I gasp, my legs trembling, my walls fluttering around him.

Julian grins wickedly, his strokes turning almost punishing.

“Give it to me,” he demands.

His thumb rubs harder, his cock driving deeper, and the orgasm slams into me like a tidal wave. I scream his name, my entire body convulsing, my pussy clenching hard around his cock.

He groans deep in his chest, his hands gripping my hips brutally as he drives into me one last time. His body shudders, and I feel the hot rush of his cum spilling deep inside me, coating my walls as he moans in satisfaction.

He stills inside me, panting against my skin until he finishes completely. I feel his cock pulsating. We lay there for a moment, both flushed, the air thick with our mingled breaths. I force myself to breathe, my body still vibrating, my limbs heavy with satisfaction. The tingling heat between my thighs hasn’t fully settled, and my pulse is erratic as I lay there, his weight still pressing against me.

***

I wake sometime before sunrise with the sheets pulled high over my chest and the room washed in the faint gray light that comes before morning. For a few seconds, I stay still, suspended between sleep and memory, until the unfamiliar weight of the mattress beneath me and the quiet hum of the hotel suite bring everything back at once.

Julian is already awake.

He sits in the chair near the windows, wearing his trousers from last night and a white shirt he hasn’t finished buttoning. His jacket is folded over the back of the chair beside him, and one ankle rests over the opposite knee as he looks down at his phone. The posture is relaxed enough, but something about him is different from the man who followed me into this room hours ago.

I push myself higher against the pillows, keeping the sheet wrapped around me.

“What time is it?” I ask.

Julian looks up immediately.

“A little after 6:00.”

“You’ve been up long?”

“Not very.”

His answer is easy, but quieter than I expect. I sweep my hair away from my face and glance toward the windows. Boston is only beginning to emerge beyond the glass, the rooftops still muted beneath the early light.

“I ordered breakfast,” Julian says as he sets his phone aside.

“It should be here soon.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know.”

There is nothing wrong with the exchange, but I feel the difference anyway. Last night there had been no hesitation between us once the final distance disappeared. Now every word seems to have edges again.

I look down at the rumpled sheets covering me and feel the first uncomfortable tug of reality.