I WAS NEVER YOURS

AMARA'S POV----- 

"Ju-Julian.. I'm cumming, Julian fasterrr."

Silence does not arrive loudly. I learned that night Julian stopped calling my name. 

A few hours before were some moments of intense love. Julian and I just had one of the best sex sessions we have ever had in our entire situationship. 

Julian had me screaming and moaning his name softly as he sucked my pecky breasts while massaging my clitoris. 

"hmmm.." I moaned softly as he bit my nipple with the tip of his teeth.

I rolled my eyes and bit my lips seductively. I enjoyed every bit of the foreplay. 

"Julian...Fuckk." I screamed while releasing my nerves. 

He massaged and tapped my clitoris softly, whispering sweet words into my ear. In a short time, I became so wet and dripping. 

"You're wet," he said as he bent his head slowly into my pussy and sucked my clitoris, giving me the best sensation I had ever had.  

"Julian, please..." I had no idea why I was begging, but the sensation made my legs shake gently.  

My legs were weak. My whole body buzzed with pleasure and excitement. My nipples were already hard, and every brush of Julian's hands on them made me flinch.

Julian stood up, looking dangerous and completely ready to devour me. He stroked his dick while looking at me seductively.

Then I stood up and walked to where he was standing. I kissed him passionately while rubbing my hands on his dick. 

"You are a seductress, and I like it." He whispered, like he had surrendered his whole body to me.

His dick was already hard, ready to thrust me deeply. I bent down slowly, my nails crawling on through his thighs. Slowly, I put his dick into my mouth and gave him a deep-throat blow job. 

"Fuckk, I love it..." Julian said, as he screamed in his deep, masculine voice. 

I looked at him as I sucked deeply and seductively rolled my eyes. 

A few moments later, he carried me gently to the bed and laid me down.

I was already so wet and dripping. I could feel pleasure in every part of my body.

"I just want to be inside you and thrust your pussy so bad," he said. "I want you so bad, I want to fuck you deeply."

I felt special at that moment, not knowing what was coming after the sensational session. 

 He spread my thighs gently and tapped his cock on my clitoris before inserting it into my pussy.

"Ahh," I screamed while biting my lips. 

"Is it too much?" he asked.

I shook my head hurriedly and said.

"More." Then he slid in, thrusting me deeply. 

 

I felt every thrust in the deepest part of my body. 

"Fa-faster..." I kept on screaming.

My nails were crawling through his back, my legs wrapped around his hips. 

"Julian," I moaned softly. He slammed in harder. 

"Call my name." He whispered into my ears as he thrusted deeper and faster. 

"Julian..."

My orgasm hit hard and fast. My legs shook slightly like they had lost stability. 

"Arghh..Ar-Arghhhh...Julian pl-please,"

He continued to thrust deeper and faster, chasing his own release. 

As his release drew closer, he removed his cock from my pussy and poured his cum on my stomach.

He collapsed beside me and pulled me closer. We kissed passionately, still drooling over each other, and then he stood up to wash himself. 

"I enjoyed it," I said as I wrapped myself up in the duvet. 

"Me too," He replied coldly with less emotions. 

I laid on the bed, still thrilled by the sensation running through my body.

I smiled sheepishly as I watched Julian washing his cock in the open bathroom.

When he was done, he grabbed his white towel, wrapped it around his waist, and then moved to the bar in the sitting room to get a glass of champagne. 

I stood up slowly from the bed, not noticing that Julian didn't smile or speak to me. I went into the bathroom to take my bathe. 

I washed my body slowly, still feeling thrills in my pussy and reminiscing on the beautiful moment I just had with Julian.

When I was done, I put on a silk night wear and headed straight to the bedroom. 

I saw Julian sipping his glass of champagne, quietly scrolling through his phone as he read articles on some business blogs. 

"My company does it better," he said as he read one of the articles with a very serious look. 

He didn't pay any form of attention to me as I walked slowly passed him to the wardrobe were I hanged my dress. 

----

There had been no argument. No accusation. No dramatic ending where one person says something unforgivable and the other person storms out.

It would have been easier if there were, because anger leaves a mark, but betrayal leaves a trail. 

But Julian left nothing. Just quiet. 

That night, he was standing by the window of his penthouse. City lights stretched behind like the kingdom he owned; his expression was calm, controlled, unreadable. The same expressions he wore in boardrooms and interviews. 

But that night I had mistaken it for peace.

"You are thinking too much," I told him softly, walking towards him in my silk nightwear that revealed my breasts. 

He didn't turn around immediately. When he did, his eyes held something distant. Like something already leaving. 

"I have a lot to handle," he said, maintaining eye contact with me.

It was cold, but it wasn't affectionate either. It was neutral, and neutral is the most dangerous tone of all. 

I had grown used to loving him in undefined spaces. We had never labelled what we were. There were no public photos, no introduction as "girlfriend," no promises made in front of witnesses, just private emotions.

Private laughter. Private plans whispered at 2 a.m under the sheets. We built a world with no name. And worlds without names are easy to erase.

"You'll call me tomorrow?" I asked lightly, pretending not to need reassurance as I wore my dress, preparing to leave his penthouse. 

Julian studied me for a second too long. A look I couldn't decode then, but now understood. 

"Of course," he said with a faint smile. 

Of course. Two simple words. That was the last promise he ever made to me. 

Tomorrow came. He didn't call me at all. 

I tried calling him but his phone was Do Not Disturb. 

The day after, I told myself he was busy. Julian was always busy. He thrives on responsibility. On control. On winning. 

By the third day, my texts remain unread. 

By the fourth, my calls went straight to voicemail. 

On the fifth day, I realized something terrifying. He wasn't unavailable. He was silent on purpose.

Silence is power when you know someone is waiting for your voice. 

I did not cry immediately. That would have meant I understood what was happening. Instead, I defended him in my mind.

"He would never disappear for no reason, he couldn't, he wouldn't," I said in a shocked and confused state.

 

We had promised each other something once, back when we were younger and less complicated. Two ambitious teenagers sitting on a staircase after a school activity, speaking about their futures as if they were guaranteed.

“We’ll grow up and build everything together,” Julian had said, eyes bright with certainty.

I had believed in him the way only young hearts can. Fully and without clauses.

But adulthood had sharpened him. Success had hardened him. And somewhere along the way, I had become the one soft thing in a life he preferred to keep disciplined.

Weeks passed.

Then a month.

Julian did not return my calls. He did not send explanations. He did not offer closure. It was as if I only imagined them. And that was the worst part. No evidence of betrayal. No dramatic ending.

I saw him once during that period, on a business magazine cover at a café, where I had stopped by with a friend.

His face was sharper. Colder. The headline praised his latest acquisition, calling him one of the youngest rising stars in the corporate world.

I stared at the photograph longer than I should have.

He looked untouched, as if nothing had been lost, as if I had not existed in the margins of his carefully structured life.

“Are you okay?” my friend had asked, looking concerned.

I had forced a smile. “Of course.”

Of course.

It was strange how easily those words could lie.

The real ending did not happen in a confrontation. It happened quietly the day I stopped checking my phone every hour. The day I realized love should not feel like waiting for permission to matter.

I did not chase him.

Not because I didn’t want to. But because somewhere deep inside my pride, I understood something important, if he wanted to explain, he would have.

And Julian was not a man who struggled with decisions.

He had chosen silence.

So I chose survival.

The transformation did not happen overnight. It came in stages. I stopped visiting places we used to go.

I stopped rereading old messages. I stopped replaying conversations in my mind, searching for hidden warnings.

I built new routines. Applied for better jobs. Took evening courses to strengthen my skills.

If Julian had built his power through control, I would build mine through independence.

The pain did not disappear. It reshaped itself into a discipline.

I became quieter. Not fragile, just careful. Careful with hope. Careful with promises.

Years passed. And the girl who once waited by her phone became a woman who didn’t wait for anyone.

When I finally received the job offer from Ardent Holdings, I accepted without hesitation.

It was one of the most competitive corporate firms in the city, ambitious and demanding, and known for developing leaders.

I liked the challenge. I liked the thought of stepping into powerful spaces without being emotionally owned by anyone inside them.

What I did not know,  what I could not have predicted, was that Ardent Holdings belonged to him. JULIAN VALE.

 discovered it on my first morning. The name was written boldly in silver letters in the lobby.

The same name I had once whispered in the dark.

For a moment, the air felt thinner.

But I did not turn around.

I did not run.

As the elevator doors closed and carried me upward toward the executive floors, my reflection stared back at me, composed, elegant, guarded.

I did not know how Julian would react when he saw me again. I did not know if he would pretend not to know me. And I did not care either. Or at least I pretended not to. 

I did not know if he would finally explain why he left.

But I knew one thing with absolute clarity:

If he thought I was still the girl who waited for his voice to validate her existence… He was about to discover how wrong he was, because love may have once made me soft. But silence had made me powerful.