Chapter 4 Juliana

• He didn't need any more encouragement. He picked me up and carried me to a nearby cabin, throwing me down on the bed and violently tearing off my bikini. Just how I wanted it. I watched as he undressed, slipping out of the last piece of clothing - his brief, his muscular body on display for me.
• He was very huge and stood like a tower over my fragile body frame. He climbed on top of me, trapping me beneath him, his dick fat around the cap and extremely hard, I feared it was going to snap. I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him closer as he slid inside me. I moaned as he filled me up, his thrusts hard and deep.
• I gasped. Air escaped my throat as a wave of excruciating pain rushed through me.
• "You are so fucking tight," he groaned, his hands gripping my hips as he tore deeper into me.
• “Open me up Daddy, make me yours, dig me, Daddy, please” I cried.
• His dick was so big, I wondered if I could last another minute pretending I was enjoying his thrust, my pussy was struggling to adjust to his size.
• “Daddy, my pussy is going to fall apart” I screamed.
• “You like it, dont you? You like being big daddy’s slut?” I heard him say as he pounded harder into me.
• “Yessssssss daddy! Yes!!!! Yes,” I screamed.
• I could feel myself getting close, my orgasm building deep inside me.
• "I'm going to come," I gasped, my nails digging into his back.
• "Come for me, Jules," he growled, his thrusts getting, heavier, harder and faster.
• I screamed as I came, my pussy clenching around his dick as he fucked the waves of pleasure out of me. He followed soon after, his hot cum filling me up as he groaned my name.
• Just then I heard; “Jules! You seem lost again!” Olivia interrupted, jolting me back to reality. Fuck, I felt super embarrassed.
• “I am sorry, I just can't seem to move on from the crazy situation I had with Richard earlier” I lied.
• “Who is Richard?” Charles asked.
• “Her Ex-boyfriend, who won’t leave her alone” Olivia responded before I could even speak.
• “Hope he is not harassing you?” Charles asked, puffing the smoke from his blunt.
• “Not at all,” I said, sipping my drink.
• “Oh Jules, please forget about Richard and enjoy the moment with us, you always wanted to talk to my uncle about his summer 2022 collection, it was one of your faves,” Olivia said, nudging beside me.
• Charles gave me that,’ you should listen to your friend,’ kind of look. Before he spoke.
• "I dont know where to place your face, but I know you look familiar," he said.
• He was right, I was the girl from the cafe in Ybor City.
• ***
• I sipped the Earl Grey slowly, letting the warmth calm my nerves. Charles had settled across from me at the long neatly cleaned counter, his sleeves pushed up, a faint crease between his brows. He looked more relaxed now, less like the elusive fashion icon and more like a man who enjoyed good tea and even better company.
• “This blend,” I said, cradling the cup, “it’s perfect. Subtle, but strong. Like your designs, actually.”
• His mouth twitched with a small smile. “You see connections in everything, don’t you?”
• I shrugged, embarrassed but pleased. “It’s just how my brain works. I guess it’s the storyteller in me.”
• “You’ve got a rare gift,” he said, setting his cup down gently. “You don’t just write—you feel. That’s what made me agree to this as I have been reading your blogs since my niece told me about you.”
• His words caught me off guard.
• Yes Daddy, fuck me already.
• I wasn’t used to such direct praise, especially not from someone like him. For a moment, I just stared into my tea, unsure how to respond.
• “You know,” he added after a pause, “most people just want to know about the money, the fame, the ‘scandalous details’ of the brand’s growth. But you… you’re interested in the story under the fabric.”
• He was wrong for this part, really wrong. I was interested in the dick!
• I was interested in the meat under the fabric, fuck!
• His deep baritone voice was not helping at all
• Why was he so slow to pick up the fact that my pussy had turned into brewing refinery by just staring at him.
• But I had to play pretend.
• I looked up, feeling my cheeks warm. “That’s the real story, isn’t it? Not the headlines, but the heartbeat.”
• We shared a quiet smile.
• Then, because the silence was starting to feel a little too long, I glanced around and said, “You’re so put together. I wonder what you home would look like, I guess beautiful. It would feel lived-in but still elegant. Like someone who reads a lot and appreciates silence.”
• That was my first shot at him trying to know I wanted a special invite to his house already.
• He chuckled. “That’s oddly accurate. I like space. I don’t do well with too much noise.”
• “I’m the opposite,” I replied. “I love a bit of chaos. The fashion shows, the street markets, the back alleys of cities most people wouldn’t bother with. There’s always something unexpected.”
• “Have you travelled much?”
• “Not as much as I want to,” I admitted. “But I’ve got a list. Paris, obviously. Tokyo, for the edge. Lagos for colour and culture. You?”
• “Been to all three,” he said, eyes distant for a second. “But not as a tourist. Always work. Never really had the luxury to wander and enjoy.”
• “That’s sad,” I said without thinking. “All that beauty, and you’re too busy to take it in?”
• He tilted his head thoughtfully. “Maybe I didn’t have the right reason to slow down.”
• There was something about the way he looked at me then—curious, as if he was still working out whether I was the reason or just another observer passing through his world.
• I quickly changed the subject. “Did you always want to do fashion?”
• God knows the conversation was beginning to taste like burnt fried egg. I was too thirsty for this man to sit through this conversation and not show him how much I want him.
• He leaned back in his chair and exhaled. “No. At first, I wanted to build houses. Be an architect. I used to draw buildings in the back of my school books.”
• “What changed?”