Jealousy

JaneVera's POV

“If you knew the thoughts running through my head right now, you wouldn’t question who I belong to.”

Caesar’s words hit me like a spark, sending heat coursing through me so fast my breath caught. My lips parted, a soft gasp slipping free before I could stop it. My pulse slammed against my throat, the whole room tilting for a split second under the force of what he made me feel.

I didn’t even have time to pull myself together before Sophia’s voice sliced through the charged air.

“Caesar, we were discussing something important,” she snapped, the kind of sharp, brittle tone someone used when they were barely holding themselves together.

I faced her, letting her see exactly where my attention had been and exactly where his still remained. She lifted her chin as if preparing for a battle she already knew she would lose. She tried to make it look like confidence, but it wasn’t. The emotion flickering in her eyes was unmistakable, Jealousy and maybe something darker simmering beneath it.

Hatred, aimed at me for daring to sit where she wanted to be, for daring to exist in a space she believed was hers. For being the one in Caesar’s lap, his hands resting on my body, his focus chained entirely to me.

Caesar didn’t even turn to acknowledge her. His gaze stayed locked on mine as he answered her, “Not now,” he said. “We’ll finish that later.” His said with the kind of tone that shut down arguments before they even had the chance to form.

Sophia’s sharp inhale cut through the room, barely audible but impossible to miss. In that single breath, she understood exactly who held his attention… and exactly who never would.

But still, she pushed.

“But it’s important,” she insisted, her voice tight, fraying at the edges.

Caesar’s fingers curled at my waist, a subtle flex, not meant to soothe me but to warn her. A quiet command wrapped in a touch.

“Then perhaps,” he murmured, still staring into me as if she weren’t even standing there, “you should choose a better moment to bring up important things.”

Sophia stiffened. The sharp inhale she tried to swallow slipped through anyway. Her fingers curled into a tight fist at her side, nails digging into her palm as she fought to keep her expression steady.

“Unbelievable,” she breathed, her voice trembling despite the composure she tried to force over it. “You think this is appropriate? Right now? With her?”

Caesar’s jaw shifted once, a small, unhurried grind of muscle. “I think,” he said calmly, utterly unbothered, “that my priorities are clear.”

My chest tightened, a sharp, breath-stealing twist, and for a moment I couldn’t decide whether to slip off his lap or cling harder to him because whatever was crackling between the two of them had wrapped itself around me too.

Sophia’s gaze snapped to me, razor-edged and unblinking, the kind of look that could flay a person without ever lifting a hand.

“You’re making a mistake Ceasar,” she said, aimed at him, yet somehow every word hit me first, soaked in her simmering anger.

“Am I?” Caesar finally responded, turning just enough to acknowledge her, a subtle shift that somehow managed to dismiss her. His hand didn’t move from me. It stayed exactly where it was, making it clear where he belonged, where his focus would always land. “Because from where I’m sitting, everything seems exactly where it should be.”

Her lips twitched, and she forced out words tight with frustration, “But… you know how much this matters… I came because you asked me…”

He lifted a hand, freezing her mid-word and my breath caught, a tight coil of anticipation pressing in my chest. He didn’t need to touch me. His hand hovered between us, suspended like a silent command meant for her, not for me.

“Sophia,” he said, his voice low, calm, but final, “leave.”

Her jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”

Ceasar turned his head back toward me, eyes locked on mine as he addressed her with calmly.

“You heard me.”

Sophia’s gaze flicked to me, then back to him, taking in the sight of me seated on his lap, his hand pressed possessively against my waist, holding me flush to him. Her lips parted in a sharp, offended gasp, and she threw me one last look, a glare so sharp it could cut glass, simmering with every word she refused to speak.

She huffed, shoulders taut, before pivoting and striding toward the exit. Her ponytail whipped behind her like a banner of frustration, and the click of the door locking behind her signaled her departure.

Ceasar leaned back into the chair, settling into a manspread. His eyes locked on me with that dark, claiming intensity that always made my pulse stutter. Before I could react, his hands gripped my waist firmly, tugging me down over his legs with a possessive force that left no room to resist.

My stomach and breasts pressed against the solid plane of his thigh, his hand grounding me, while his other leg tilted my ass up just so, arching me over him in a perfect, almost torturous curve that I'm certain he could see my cunt from behind. I could feel him harden instantly beneath my stomach, the press of him sharp, demanding, and thrilling all at once. I shivered against him, aware of how exposed my ass was and how exposed I was to him in this position.

I gasped, breath catching in my throat, my voice small and trembling. “Wh-what… what are you doing?”

“Trying to figure out why you came down here like this,” he murmured, low and teasing, “And daring her to see what only I get to touch.” His fingers dug lightly into my waist, pressing me down, tilting me just enough so.

My pulse stuttered, my breath hitching as the weight of him beneath me grounded me in ways that made my body tremble. My chest pressed firmly against his thigh, my stomach and breasts molded over him, every curve perfectly aligned with the solid plane of his leg. The arch of my ass left me exquisitely exposed, high and vulnerable, sending molten heat pooling low in my core, every nerve alight with anticipation.

“You were jealous,” Ceasar said calm and certain, like a truth that could not be denied