The image he paints sends both terror and arousal flooding through me. I want to argue, to protest, but my cock pulses at the thought of being displayed like that—Julian’s prey, Julian’s conquest, Julian’spossession.
“Now,” Julian says, straightening his shoulders and composing himself with practiced ease. “Let me fetch the attendants. You need to be bathed and prepared properly.”
He walks toward the door, leaving me standing there—naked, hard, and trembling with anticipation. The feast will be my reckoning, and I don’t know whether to be scared or excited that the walls I’ve built, the mask I’ve portrayed to everyone I know, are about to be torn down in public.
18
JULIAN
Idismiss the attendants after they fill the large marble tub. This isn’t something I’m willing to delegate. Not with him.
“I’m going to bathe you,” I tell Elliot, my voice rougher than intended. He nods, following me to the steaming water.
As I guide him into the bath, his muscles tense momentarily before relaxing against me. I’ve never seen anything quite as beautiful as Elliot Chambers surrendering his control. The warm water embraces his body, and I watch goosebumps rise on his skin where my fingers trace invisible patterns.
“You don’t need to—” he starts, but I silence him with a finger to his lips.
“Let me take care of you.”
I lather the soap between my hands, working it across his shoulders, down his chest.
“I never expected you,” I admit. My hands slide lower, circling his navel. “I thought I’d be obsessed with one of the women in the end.”
Elliot’s eyes meet mine, vulnerability shimmering in their depths. I’ve spent my life keeping people at arm’s length, maintaining control through distance, but with him, I want theopposite. I want to peel away every layer, drag the real man beneath all his bullshit out into the light.
“But you,” I continue, my hand dipping beneath the water to grip his hardening cock, “you’ve become essential to me. Like breathing.”
I stroke him languidly, watching pleasure bloom across his features. God, I love his cock—thick, perfect. The way it fills my hand, how it pulses when I squeeze it just right.
“Julian,” he gasps, his hips lifting into my touch.
“The sounds you make,” I murmur, leaning closer to his ear. “The way you respond when I’m inside you. I can’t get enough.”
He shivers despite the warm water, his head falling back as a moan escapes him.
I take my time washing Elliot, my hands gentle as they glide across his skin. Unlike before, I keep my touch purposeful but clinical—this isn’t about pleasure, not yet. I work the soap into a lather, cleaning away the evidence of our previous encounters while mentally marking the places I’ll claim again soon.
“Stand,” I command softly when I finish.
He rises from the water, rivulets streaming down his body. I take a plush towel and dry him, lingering over the marks I’ve left on his skin. Each bruise and bite mark is a signature, a reminder that he’s mine now.
I wrap Elliot in the towel and lead him to the center of the bathing chamber. Soft light bathes his skin, highlighting every mark I’ve left on him. He’s magnificent—all lean muscle and tentative vulnerability.
“Stand here,” I instruct, my voice low. “Legs apart.”
I retrieve a crystal vial of lubricant from a nearby shelf, uncorking it with a practiced motion.
“Unlike the women being prepared for the Feast, you need special attention,” I explain, coating my fingers generously. Theoil glistens in the low light. “You’ll be sitting on me for hours. I need to make sure you’re ready.”
Elliot’s breath catches as I circle behind him, my free hand sliding possessively down his spine.
“Bend forward slightly,” I murmur against his ear.
His muscles tense beneath my touch, but he follows my command. I slide my slick fingers between his cheeks, circling his entrance with deliberate pressure. The lubricant warms against his skin as I massage him, feeling his resistance give way to acceptance.
“Good boy,” I praise, pushing a finger inside him.
Elliot gasps, his body clenching around my intrusion before relaxing. I work him open, adding a second finger, then a third, stretching him with patient determination. His cock hangs heavy between his legs, hardening visibly with each thrust of my fingers.