The Billionaire’s Secret 🥀 | Part 7: After Midnight at the Blackwell House (Patreon)

All characters depicted in this story are fictional and 18 years of age or older. Everything portrayed is safe, sane, and consensual.

The corridor felt longer than it ever had.

Not because of distance, but because of what I knew waited at the end of it.

Sebastian walked beside me, unhurried, one hand resting lightly at the small of my back. Not guiding. Claiming. The quiet of the house wrapped around us as the noise of the party faded behind closed doors. The marble floors absorbed our footsteps. The walls seemed to listen.

I could feel my heartbeat everywhere. In my throat. In my hands. In the way my body leaned toward his without permission.

“This way,” he said calmly, as if we were discussing nothing more dangerous than a late drink.

The study door closed behind us with a soft, decisive sound.

Sebastian crossed the room and stopped by the bookshelf. He glanced back at me, the corner of his mouth lifting.

“You already know how this works,” he said.

My breath caught. I smiled.

He reached out and pressed a single book. The shelf shifted with a low, smooth sound, revealing the hidden passage beyond. Warm light spilled through the opening, softer than the study, more intimate. The private bedroom.

The same room.

Memory crashed into me without warning. A flash of silk sheets. Low light. The unmistakable sound of breath breaking apart. I remember the man arching his back while Sebastian fucked him intensly. The memory of Sebastian’s composure stripped away, replaced by something commanding and raw. The image had lived in my head for days since the night I sneaked into the party with Jacob, resurfacing when I least expected it.

And now he was inviting me into it. Inviting me to his private bedroom. Inviting me to be part of the same memory that I had fantasized about all these days.

Sebastian stepped through first, unbuttoning his coat as he went. He set it aside with careless precision, then his shoes, movements easy, unselfconscious. When he turned back to me, he looked entirely at home. The richest man in the country, the most dangerous one too, watching me like this was exactly where he wanted to be.

He sat back against the pillows, relaxed, one arm draped along the headboard. Waiting.

Not summoning me.

Waiting.

The power of that nearly undid me.

I closed the distance slowly, aware of every movement of my body. I slipped out of my blazer, then my shoes, my hands unsteady despite my resolve. I could feel his eyes on me the entire time. Not rushed or greedy, but with intent.

“You don’t have to be nervous,” he said softly.

“I’m not,” I replied, surprised to find it was mostly true.

When I reached the edge of the bed, he lifted a hand and caught my wrist, gentle but certain, drawing me closer until my knees pressed into the mattress. I could feel the warmth of him through our clothes, the pull of proximity.

“Good,” he murmured.

He drew me down with him, guiding rather than forcing, until I was stretched along his body. His hand settled at my waist, steadying me. The contact sent a slow, electric awareness through me, every place we touched lighting up.

Our mouths found each other without ceremony this time. The kiss was deeper, more assured, the kind that carried days of restraint breaking apart. His lips moved with confidence, his attention absolute. I responded instinctively, fingers curling into his shirt as if anchoring myself.

When his mouth shifted to my jaw, my neck, I inhaled sharply. The contrast of warmth and pressure made my thoughts scatter. His teeth grazed skin, just enough to promise more, then his lips soothed the place as if he knew exactly what he was doing.

I did not stop him.

I wanted this.

My hands slid up his chest, unfastening buttons one by one, revealing the solid heat beneath. The closeness made everything sharper. His scent. The quiet sound he made when my fingers traced lower. The way his grip tightened briefly at my back before easing again.

He let me explore, let me learn him, even as he stayed unmistakably in control. One hand settled at my hip, fingers firm through fabric, holding me in place as if to remind me exactly where I belonged in that moment.

I pressed closer, feeling his bulge on my legs, the heat undeniable now. The room felt smaller, charged, as if it were holding its breath with us.

Sebastian shifted beneath me, just enough to make his intention clear without taking it further. His forehead rested briefly against mine, grounding us both.

I pulled back just enough to look at him, my breath ragged, my cock already straining hard against my pants from the friction of our bodies. His eyes were dark, hooded with that same unyielding control, but there was a flicker of raw hunger there now, something he wasn't hiding anymore. "Take it slow," he said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through my chest. "I want to feel every second of this."

His words sent a fresh wave of heat pooling in my groin. I nodded, my hands trembling as I finished unbuttoning his shirt, peeling it open to expose the chiseled expanse of his chest. His skin was warm, flushed, the hard ridges of his abs contracting under my touch as I ran my palms down them, feeling the taut muscle flex. God, he was fucking perfect; broad pecs dusted with a fine trail of dark hair leading down to his navel, every inch screaming power and restraint.

I leaned in, pressing my lips to his collarbone, tasting the salt of his skin. He grunted softly, a deep, dominant sound that made my cock twitch. Encouraged, I kissed lower, my tongue tracing the valley between his pecs, lapping at the firm swell of muscle. When I reached his nipple, I circled it with my tongue, slow and wet, before sucking it into my mouth, grazing it with my teeth. Sebastian's breath hitched, his hand sliding from my waist to tangle in my hair, not pulling but holding me there, guiding without words.

"Fuck, that feels good," he growled, his voice gravelly, that billionaire poise cracking just a fraction as his hips rolled up subtly, grinding his thickening bulge against my thigh. I could feel him hardening fully now, the massive length pressing insistently through his pants, hot and rigid. It was impossible to ignore; I remembered that his cock was huge and now it was straining the fabric, the outline so clear I could almost taste it already.

I switched to his other nipple, sucking harder, my teeth nipping just enough to draw another grunt from him, this one louder, more commanding. His free hand roamed down my back, fingers digging into my shirt before yanking it free from my waistband. "Take it off," he ordered, his tone brooking no argument. I sat up, straddling his hips, and unbuttoned my shirt and tossed it aside. The cool air hit my skin, but his gaze burned hotter, raking over my chest, my hardening nipples, down to where my own cock bulged painfully in my pants.“Beautiful”, he said looking at my body.

Before I could move, Sebastian's hands were on me, strong and possessive. He flipped us effortlessly, pinning me beneath him with his weight, his hard body covering mine. His mouth crashed down, claiming my lips in a bruising kiss, his tongue thrusting deep, fucking my mouth with the same dominance I knew he'd bring to everything else. I moaned into him, my hands clutching at his shoulders, nails scraping his skin as he ground his hips down, his rock-hard cock rubbing against mine through our clothes. The friction was torturous, sparks of pleasure shooting through my balls, pre-cum leaking into my underwear.

He broke the kiss, trailing his lips down my throat, biting hard enough to mark me, then soothing with his tongue. "You're so fucking hot," he muttered against my skin, his voice thick with lust. His hand slid between us, palming my bulge, squeezing my hard cock through the fabric until I arched up, gasping. "Ah fuck, already leaking, are we, Mr. Hartley."

I whimpered, bucking into his grip, but he pulled back, smirking that dangerous smile. "Not yet." He sat up on his knees, straddling my thighs, and unbuckled his belt with deliberate slowness. The zipper rasped down, and he shoved his pants off his hips, kicking them away. Underneath, he wore sleek Versace underwear, black silk clinging to his massive bulge like a second skin. His cock was enormous, the thick shaft outlined so fucking perfectly, the head swollen and pushing against the waistband, a dark spot of pre-cum soaking through. His balls hung heavy, straining the fabric, and his thighs flexed with raw power as he adjusted himself.

"Holy fuck," I breathed, my mouth watering at the sight. He was even bigger up close than I'd seen it a few nights before, his bulge throbbing visibly.

Sebastian chuckled, low and dominant, grabbing my hand and pressing it to his crotch. "Feel that? That's what you do to me." I squeezed, feeling the heat, the hardness, the way his cock jumped under my palm. He grunted again, thrusting into my hand, his abs tightening as he loomed over me.

His hands moved to my pants next, unfastening them with expert efficiency. He yanked them down my legs, along with my socks, leaving me in just my briefs. My cock sprang up, tenting the cotton obscenely, the head leaking a lot of pre-cum, my balls aching for release. Sebastian's eyes darkened further, and he palmed my ass through the fabric, squeezing the cheeks hard, his fingers digging into the flesh. "Such a perfect little ass," he growled, kneading it roughly. I moaned, pushing back into his touch, my hole clenching at the pressure.

He brought his hand down in a sharp smack, the sting blooming across my right cheek. I yelped, the pain mixing with pleasure, my cock leaking more. "You like that?" he asked, spanking me again, harder, the sound echoing in the room. My skin burned, red and hot under his palm, but I nodded frantically, grinding against the sheets.

"Fuck yes," I gasped, and he rewarded me with another squeeze, his thumb brushing over my crack through the underwear, teasing my hole. His grunts grew deeper, more animalistic, as he dominated the moment, his body a wall of muscle and control.

He flipped me onto my back again, hooking his fingers into my waistband. "These are coming off." He peeled my underwear down slowly, inch by inch, my hard cock slapping against my stomach as it sprang free…seven inches of throbbing meat, veins bulging, the head purple and glistening with pre-cum, my balls tight and full. The air hit my exposed skin, making me shiver, but Sebastian's gaze was pure fire.

He positioned himself back against the headboard, legs spread wide, his Versace-clad bulge front and center. "Come here," he commanded, his voice rough. I crawled between his knees, my naked body trembling with need, my cock bobbing hard between my legs. I hovered over him, face inches from that massive bulge, inhaling the musky scent of his arousal through the silk.

Slowly, I leaned down, my tongue darting out to lick the outline of his cock through the soft underwear. The fabric was damp, salty with pre-cum, and I traced the thick shaft from base to tip, feeling it pulse under my tongue. Sebastian groaned deeply, his hand fisting in my hair, holding me there as I lapped at his bulge, the heat radiating through, his balls shifting as I nuzzled them. It was graphic, filthy, and I couldn't get enough…the taste of his dick seeping through his underwear, the way his cock strained harder, begging for more.

His fingers tightened in my hair, a low, possessive growl rumbling from his chest as he pressed my face closer to the soaked silk. "That's it, boy... worship it. Because soon I'm going to bury this cock deep inside you and make you mine completely."

I moaned against the throbbing heat, my own cock leaking onto the sheets, knowing that tonight was only the beginning; this was just the start of everything Sebastian Blackwell would claim from me.

────────────────The Billionaire’s Secret 🥀 | Part 8: Where I Learned To Kneel