Page 88 of Mr. Hotshot CEO

He spins me around so I’m facing the door and presses the length of his body against mine. His erection is hard against my lower back, and oh God, I want him even more now. Then he’s gone and I miss his heat, but my skin prickles as I realize he’s opening his pants. He can’t wait until we get to bed. He’s going to fuck me right here, against the door, both of us fully clothed.

He rolls on a condom before shoving aside my panties again and rubbing the tip of his cock against me.

“Yes,” I moan, pressing back against him. “Yes.”

He pushes inside, and I start shaking. He’s in me, and it feels so right and good.

His thrusts are fast and deep. It’s nothing like the first time, when we were wrapped up in bed together and he was so tender with me. This time, it’s rough and needy, but that’s exactly what I want right now. So many different things are perfect with him.

I clutch the door handle, needing to anchor myself. Julian is fucking me harder, grabbing my ass, filling me with such intense sensation—I never knew it could be like this. My orgasm builds, and when it crashes over me, I hardly know what’s happening. I think I might be falling, but I know he’s got me.

He growls and shakes as he finishes inside me. When he pulls out, he wraps his arms around me, and we slide to the floor together and don’t say anything for a long time.

Eventually, he pulls me to my feet.

“Let’s go to bed,” he says.

* * *

We have sex again inbed. This time, we’re naked and our touches are less frantic. Instead, it’s slow and romantic.

Afterward, he falls sleep, the lamp beside the bed still on, and I prop my head up on my hand and look down at him.

We’ve had our fling, and he’s been a wonderful lover. He’s wonderful in every way, in fact. But on Monday, I’ll go back to my regular life. No more penthouses and expensive hotels and tasting menus.

That’s okay. I don’t need luxury; I like my ordinary little apartment.

But I’ll miss seeing Julian Fong every day. I’ll miss him so much.

I let out a choked little cry.

I’m screwed.

I told myself I could handle the end, but now, I don’t think I can, and if I’m honest with myself, I was aware of that all along. I knew Julian would get to me, but I wanted him so badly that I was able to lie to myself so I could have what I craved.

Or maybe it would have been like this even if I hadn’t slept with him. We were still living together, spending so much time together.

I am so, so screwed.

My heart lurches in my chest. It wasn’t supposed to get involved, but it did.

This is the last thing I need, especially when I can feel the impending doom of depression coming my way. Dealing with heartbreak on top of that...well, last time it almost killed me.

That’s not an exaggeration. I was in the hospital on suicide watch. I couldn’t take care of myself; I could barely even breathe. I just wished everything would end, wished I could crawl into a dark cave and disappear from my own life.

This won’t technically be a breakup, because Julian and I were never officially in a relationship, but it’s heartbreak nonetheless. He’ll go back to his regular life, and I’ll go back to mine.

I cry silent tears into the night.

* * *

The next morning isour last in Montreal. We wake up around eight, both still naked after last night’s activities, and we simply hold each other. I try to enjoy this while it lasts, but maybe I should start extricating myself. Maybe it’ll be less painful if I start putting some distance between us now.

I start to slither out of Julian’s embrace, but he holds me still.

“I have something to ask you,” he says.

“Okay.” He’ll ask me his question, and then I’ll get up and have my shower.