The Retired CEO's Guide To Being Spoiled-Chapter 120: Reflections of Vain Regret

"Hmm?"

Ethan Caldwell arched a brow, his dark, obsidian eyes heavy with a terrifying weight of unslaked lust as he looked down at the man trembling beneath him. The corner of his mouth hooked up in a dangerous, predatory smirk: "You don’t want it anymore?"

As he spoke, Ethan didn’t stop moving. His large, calloused hand swept down the length of Julian Sterling’s back, which was slick with a sheen of perspiration. His palm glided over the curve of the spine, lingering possessively on the plump, well-rounded buttocks that he had been tormenting. He kneaded the flesh, his fingers digging in with a comfortable familiarity, molding the soft curves to his liking.

Then, his touch turned wicked. His fingers slid lower, brazenly brushing against the point of their union, tracing the rim of the small, overstretched entrance that was greedily swallowing his length. He felt the tightness, the heat, the way the muscle spasmed around him.

Ethan chuckled low in his throat, a rough, gravelly sound that vibrated against Julian’s ear: "But from what I can see... this little mouth down here is still starving. Look at it. It’s practically begging me to fuck it to death."

He pressed a kiss to the shell of Julian’s ear, whispering dark obscenities: "Just look at this greedy little thing. It’s biting down on me so tight, wrapping around me, refusing to let go. It’s a liar, just like its master."

The moment the words left his lips, Ethan didn’t slow down. Instead, he snapped his hips forward, increasing the pace of his thrusts, driving into Julian with renewed vigor.

Smack!

His hand descended in a sharp, punishing arc, landing squarely on the fleshy curve of Julian’s buttocks with a crisp, resounding crack. The slap was forceful, sending a shockwave through the firm flesh. The creamy white skin instantly bloomed with a vivid red handprint, marking his ownership. Julian’s rear, already tender and slightly swollen from the earlier spanking, throbbed with a fresh, stinging heat.

The sudden pain triggered an immediate physiological response. The entrance clenched reflexively, tightening around Ethan’s shaft in a spasm that made the man above him hiss a breath of pure satisfaction.

For Julian, the sensation was a maddening cocktail of sharp pain and blinding pleasure. The sting of the slap mixed with the fullness inside him was torture, driving him to the brink of insanity. He shook his head frantically from side to side, his hair damp with sweat and plastered to his forehead in disarray.

"No... ah... I don’t want it... Nngh... too deep..."

"Ah... Don’t... don’t hit that spot... Ah... Hic..."

Julian’s mouth spilled denials, begging for release, but his body was a traitor of the highest order. Ignoring the pleas, Ethan suddenly grabbed Julian’s hips and hoisted them higher, changing the angle of penetration. With a cruel precision, he drove his hips forward, slamming his hard length relentlessly into the exact sensitive spot he had been teasingly avoiding just moments before.

The reaction was instantaneous. Julian’s insides convulsed, the fleshy walls clamping down with desperate force on the thick weapon ravaging his interior. Darkness encroached on the edges of his vision, while fireworks exploded behind his eyelids. His entire body went boneless, melting like a puddle of water against Ethan’s broad chest. His mouth fell open, gasping like a fish out of water, struggling to pull thin wisps of oxygen into his burning lungs.

"Wasn’t my baby having so much fun playing with himself earlier?" Ethan bit down lightly on Julian’s earlobe, which was flushed a deep crimson. The man’s low laughter rumbled through his chest, vibrating against Julian’s own ribs: "Didn’t you call out "Husband"? Didn’t you beg me to come and fuck you?"

Ethan’s large hand reached around to the front, engulfing Julian’s trembling member. He stroked it gently at first, a teasing, barely-there touch that sent shivers down Julian’s spine. But then, his thumb moved to press firmly over the urethral opening, effectively blocking it.

"Don’t worry." Ethan murmured, his voice dripping with false sweetness. "Husband will make sure to love you plenty. Today, I guarantee I’ll feed you until you’re stuffed. I’ll fuck you until this little darling..." He flicked his finger against the head of Julian’s trapped erection. "...wants to shoot but has nothing left to give."

Hearing this, a chill ran down Julian’s spine, freezing him to the bone despite the heat of the room. Yet, in direct contradiction to his fear, the lewd little mouth between his legs only wept more profusely, and the head of his member leaked a steady stream of pre-cum, slicking Ethan’s hand.

Ethan didn’t give him time to process the threat. He tightened his arm around Julian’s waist, locking him in place. With his other hand, he roughly grabbed Julian’s ankle and yanked it high into the air. The position forced Julian’s waist to dip low, completely splaying him open, offering up his most vulnerable point for a brutal invasion.

Thwack!

Ethan thrust with all his might, burying himself to the hilt. Every stroke was a study in extremes, he would pull out until only the flared head remained at the entrance, teasing the rim, before slamming back in with the force of a battering ram, hitting the deepest point of Julian’s body.

The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the room, wet, sharp, and undeniably obscene. Julian was pounded into a state of senselessness. His soul felt as though it were being knocked loose from his body. He couldn’t even form coherent screams anymore. He could only gape, his throat producing broken, sobbing gasps as he was forced to passively endure the tidal wave of pleasure that threatened to drown him.

Julian’s face was a mess of tears and sweat. Salty droplets rolled down from his forehead to his chin, mingling together. His body jerked and bounced helplessly with every powerful piston-like thrust from Ethan. His weak, trembling hands clawed at the back of the chair, clinging to it like a drowning man clutching a piece of driftwood in a raging storm.

His nether regions had long since been worked into a soft, messy pulp. Ethan had already released inside him once before, and now, Julian was filled to the brim with the man’s essence. With every violent thrust, the pink, swollen flesh was dragged out and pushed back in, churning the fluids. White semen mixed with clear bodily fluids, frothing into a creamy lather that spilled over, coating his red, swollen entrance and dripping steadily onto the sodden upholstery of the chair.

Julian had lost count of how many times he had reached the peak during this prolonged session of debauchery. His member remained painfully erect, throbbing with need, but his internal reserves were completely depleted. True to Ethan’s cruel promise, his body could only convulse in dry orgasms, unable to expel a single drop.

In his dazed, semi-conscious state, Julian naively thought that the storm had finally passed.

His body went completely limp, draping over the velvet armrest like a broken ragdoll. His breathing was ragged and shallow, his chest heaving violently as he tried to claw back some semblance of composure. He squeezed his eyes shut, savoring the rare moment of stillness in the aftermath of the hurricane. Below, he felt numb, sticky, and thoroughly used. The emptiness that followed the withdrawal of that massive presence left him feeling a strange mix of relief and hollow loss.

He assumed it was over. He thought the man, having sated his beastly appetite, would finally show some mercy and let him rest. But Julian had severely underestimated his husband. Ethan Caldwell was not a man who let go so easily.

Suddenly, Julian felt the world tilt. A sense of weightlessness overtook him as strong, searingly hot arms slipped under his armpits and behind his knees. He was effortlessly lifted from the chair, leaving behind a dark stain of fluids.

Julian’s eyes flew open in panic. As his vision cleared, he realized Ethan was carrying him. But the direction was wrong. They weren’t heading to the bathroom to clean up, nor were they moving toward the soft sanctuary of their bed.

This direction... it led to the expansive walk-in closet that connected directly to their master bedroom!

Before Julian could protest, Ethan had carried him to the far corner of the dressing room, stopping directly in front of a floor-to-ceiling mirror.

"Ah... Husband... what are you doing?" Julian asked, his voice hoarse and raspy, laced with a tremor of genuine fear. By now, regret was washing over him in waves. If he could turn back time, he would never have let his competitive streak get the better of him. He would never have provoked this beast. 𝚏𝕣𝕖𝚎𝚠𝚎𝚋𝚗𝐨𝐯𝕖𝕝.𝕔𝐨𝕞

It was true what they said, every man had a touch of madness when he climbed into bed!

Ethan didn’t dignify the question with an answer. He stepped forward, pressing Julian’s naked, flushed body against the surface of the mirror.

The shock of the cold glass against his heated back made Julian gasp and shudder violently. Goosebumps erupted across his skin in an instant. His nipples, already swollen and red from attention, grazed against the hard wall of Ethan’s chest, hardening painfully at the friction.

Then, without warning, Ethan spun him around. Now, Julian was facing the mirror, the entirety of his front pressed against the icy, unyielding surface.

"Nngh!"

The sudden stimulation forced a sharp cry from Julian’s lips. The cold bit into his sensitive skin, a stark contrast to the feverish heat of the sex. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, refusing to look. He couldn’t bear to see himself like this.

"Be a good boy. Open your eyes," Ethan’s voice was a low purr right beside his ear, carrying a command that brooked no refusal. "Look at yourself. Look at what you’ve become."

Julian tried to turn his head away, desperate to escape the humiliating reality reflected before him. But Ethan’s hand was faster. He gripped Julian’s chin firmly, his fingers digging into the jawline, and forced Julian’s head up.

"Look." Ethan commanded, forcing Julian to stare directly into his own tear-filled eyes in the mirror.