The Billionaire's Dirty Secret

"Open up," Emerson commanded, his voice thick with a sudden, sharp authority.

Julian looked like he wanted to argue, his green eyes flashing with a spark of rebellion, but Emerson didn’t give him the chance. He threaded his fingers through Julian’s dark hair and guided him down. Julian let out a sharp gasp, his mouth falling open in surprise, but he didn't fight. Instead, he leaned into it, his throat working to accommodate Emerson with a hunger that matched the intensity of the night.

"That's it," Emerson groaned, his head falling back as the heat of Julian’s mouth enveloped him. "Show me how good you can be. Do as I say, and I'll give you exactly what you’ve been looking for."

Julian didn't answer with words. He made a low, guttural sound deep in his throat and got to work. He was ravenous, his tongue darting and swirling with a precision that made Emerson’s vision blur. The friction was perfect, the heat overwhelming. Within seconds, the pressure began to build at the base of Emerson’s spine, a tidal wave of release threatening to crash over him way too soon.

"Enough," Emerson panted, his hands tightening in Julian’s hair. "Stop. Right now."

He could feel the vibration of a smug smile against his skin. Instead of slowing down, Julian picked up the pace, his bobs becoming more frantic and deep. He was trying to force the finish, a silent act of defiance that told Emerson exactly who he was dealing with. This was payback for the power play at the bar, a way to strip Emerson of his control.

"I said stop," Emerson hissed through gritted teeth.

Summoning every ounce of his willpower, Emerson pulled him away. The loss of that warmth was a physical ache, but he couldn't let Julian win this round. If he came now, the night was over, and Emerson wasn't done proving his point. He needed to be the one to decide when they reached the end.

Julian pulled back and spat on the floor, his green eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. The smugness remained, mixed with a visible streak of irritation. He knew exactly what he’d been doing.

"Nice try, brat," Emerson said, his breathing ragged.

"Fuck you," Julian snapped, shifting as if to get up.

"Not a chance."

Emerson used his weight to pin Julian back down against the dark silk sheets. He was stronger, fueled by a mixture of scotch and pure, unadulterated adrenaline. He grabbed Julian’s wrists, pinning them above his head with one hand while using his other to press firmly into the small of Julian’s back, forcing his hips up.

"Who told you that you could take charge?" Emerson growled, leaning down until his lips brushed Julian’s ear. "I told you there would be a punishment if you kept acting out. Did you think I was joking?"

Julian let out a huff of contempt, trying to buck his hips to throw Emerson off, but the movement only made things worse for him.

"Answer me, Julian."

"Go to hell," Julian muttered, though his breath was hitching.

Emerson didn't need any more than that. He raised his hand and brought it down firmly against Julian’s skin. The sound of the slap was loud in the quiet VIP room, followed immediately by Julian’s sharp, surprised yelp. Emerson didn't wait; he did it again, harder this time.

"Fuck," Julian groaned, his body arching off the bed. His defiance was still there, but it was being rapidly overtaken by the sheer physical reaction to the touch.

Emerson watched the way Julian’s body jerked, the way his skin began to flush a deep, beautiful rose. It was intoxicating. He leaned down, pinching the sensitive skin of Julian’s hip before sliding his hand lower to trace the rim of his heat. Julian was already slick, his body betraying his verbal protests with every shuddering breath.

"Will you do what I tell you now?" Emerson asked, his voice low and dangerous.

Julian turned his head to the side, his eyes burning with a mix of fury and desperate need. "Fuck you."

Emerson grinned. He reached for the lube and the condom he’d thrown onto the bed earlier. "I think you need a little more convincing. You really are a piece of work, aren't you? I never imagined my first night back in the city would involve someone this stubborn."

"You wish," Julian grumbled, his voice shaking. "I bet you don't even know what to do with that thing."

"Oh, I think we're past the point of betting, Julian."

Emerson kept a firm grip on Julian’s wrists, not willing to risk a stray elbow or another attempt at a power grab. He worked the condom on with practiced ease and applied a generous amount of lube. He moved between Julian’s legs, his knees pinning Julian’s thighs apart. He pressed a single finger against the entrance, watching Julian’s eyes blow wide.

"You like that, don't you?" Emerson murmured, circling the sensitive area without pushing in yet.

"Fuck," Julian shivered, trying to cant his hips toward the touch. He was desperate now, the bravado finally starting to crack under the weight of his own arousal.

"You have a very pretty hole, Julian," Emerson noted, his voice devoid of mockery, replaced only by a raw, dark appreciation. "I think it’s going to look even better when I’m the one filling it."

"Then do it," Julian growled, shaking his hips as hard as he could against Emerson’s hold. "Do it already. I’ve never heard anyone talk so much and do so little."

"Do you want me inside you? Is that what you’re trying to say?"

"Yes!" Julian snapped, his face flushed as he finally met Emerson's eyes.

Emerson smiled, the victory sweet on his tongue. He had spent the whole day being told 'no' by his father, being made to feel small and insignificant. But here, in the dark, with this beautiful, fiery man under him, he was the king. He was the one with the power.

"Yes, what?" Emerson urged, leaning down to kiss a slow, burning path up Julian’s spine. "I’m not moving until you ask me properly, brat. We can stay like this all night if that’s what it takes."

Julian’s eyelids fluttered, a long, shaky breath escaping him. He fought it for a few more seconds, his teeth gritted so hard Emerson could see the muscle in his jaw jumping. But the body doesn't lie as well as the tongue does, and Julian was vibrating with a need that was bordering on painful.

"Yes, please," Julian finally exhaled, the words vibrating through him and into Emerson. "Screw me already, you absolute asshole. Just... please."

A surge of satisfaction erupted in Emerson’s chest, more powerful than the alcohol or the music. "There. Was that so hard to say?"

Julian tried to snap back with another insult, but it died in his throat as Emerson wedged two fingers inside him. The first obscene moan of the night filled the room, and Emerson knew that from this point on, Julian belonged entirely to the moment.

The rhythm they found was frantic, a collision of two people who had been pushed to their limits all day and finally found a place to break. Emerson watched Julian’s face—the way his eyes rolled back, the way his lips stayed parted as he gasped for air. Every time Julian tried to regain some semblance of control, Emerson would change the pace or the angle, reminding him exactly who was setting the rules.

"You're mine tonight," Emerson whispered, his voice a rough command as he prepared to finally bridge the distance between them. "No business, no fathers, no expectations. Just this."

Julian reached back, his fingers tangling with Emerson’s as he pulled him down for a kiss that tasted like a surrender. "Fine," Julian breathed against his lips. "Just this."

As Emerson finally pushed home, the world outside the VIP room ceased to exist. There was no Lanka Vlub HQ, no revenue reports, and no conservative traditions. There was only the heat, the friction, and the green-eyed stranger who was finally, quietly, following his lead.