His hands were more hesitant than they’d been at the bar, staying firmly planted on my sides as he kissed me. But I wanted more. My core was pulsing in tempo with our kisses.
“I thought you said everything,” I whispered.
His eyes flared wide at my words. “And I meant it. Show me what you want.”
The alcohol silenced my inner panic. In a bold gesture, I pushed his hand lower, lower, lower, over my hip and across the top of my thighs until he was precisely where I wanted him.
Shock mingled with desire in his irises as his hand settled between my legs. “Is that so?”
His fingers skimmed the hem of my dress, slipping under the material and reaching the cotton panties. He dragged one finger down the center of the fabric. I jolted in shock as the contact sent sparks through me.
“There,” I whispered.
His head dipped to my ear. “You want me to touch your pussy?”
I groaned at the filthy words as he leisurely rolled a finger around my clit. I was already wet from just this, soaking through the material. Surely, he could feel it. I was too heated to care.
“Please.”
He made a noise in the back of his throat that shot straight between my legs. He slid a finger under the fabric, finally—finally—touching me. He slicked a finger through my wetness and dragged it up to my clit.
“Oh fuck, Jen,” he growled.
His pelvis ground against my hip, and I could feel the length of him through his pants.
My head fell back onto the pillow as he continued to bring me to new heights. Then the pressure on my hip disappeared, and suddenly, his body was positioned between my legs. He released my clit, slipping the panties over my curvy hips and tossing them to the floor.
Before I could think what would happen next, he buried his face between my legs. I stifled a cry as his tongue flicked against my clit. I jerked and squirmed under the contact, but he forced my hips back down on the bed with his forearm. My hands flew over my head in shock as my orgasm hit me full blast. Still, he licked me until he drew out every ounce of my climax.
He released me when I was left panting on the bed. My eyes remained firmly closed, and I tried to process what had happened. But processing wasn’t exactly possible.
His weight shifted off the bed, and I turned in his direction. Julian stood next to me. He peeled off his shirt first, revealing the glorious six-pack beneath. He was lean and ripped from hours of soccer, running, and weight lifting with Hollin. Then went his belt buckle.
My mouth watered at the sight, and I came up to my knees on the bed. His eyes flashed to mine as he drew the buckle back and let it hang open. I scooted forward, pushing his hands away.
“You’re doing my job,” I told him.
His eyes widened again. “All yours, Dreamsicle.”
I giggled at the nickname. “You’re the one who tasted like it.”
His hands grasped my jaw, and he pressed a firm kiss to my lips. “Get to work.”
I heated under that tone. Confident, demanding, and oh-so predatory. I hadn’t known Julian had that tone. But my body tightened all over at the sound of it.
He released me, and I popped the button on his slacks. My fingers fumbled with the zipper, but then I got it. I pushed his pants over his narrow hips, leaving him in nothing but baby-blue boxers. My nails skimmed the waistband, dipping an inch inside before retreating. It was his turn to hiss and try to get more. I grinned and did it again.
“Who the fuck knew that you were this much of a tease?” he growled.
My eyes met his, and I pushed my hand all the way in, taking his dick in my hand. “I’m not a tease.”
“Fuck.”
His eyes rolled into the back of his head at my contact. I didn’t consider any other options, just withdrew him from his boxers and dropped my mouth onto the head. Pre-cum tasted salty on the tip, but I swallowed it down.
“Oh God,” he breathed. His hands delved into my hair, tightening his grip but not directing. “You feel fucking spectacular.”
“Mmm,” I groaned as I took him in my mouth.
As nervous and anxious as I was under normal circumstances, blow jobs had always been easier to think about than sex. I’d gotten really, really good at them, thanks to a lot of douche bags in high school and college. It was the only thing I could thank them for. But it was also something I’d learned to really enjoy. Not because I could deep-throat without gagging or my jaw didn’t hurt or anything. It was the sounds of pleasure Julian was making. Knowing I was responsible for that, it was a power that I didn’t have anywhere else in my life.
“Jen,” he said. “Please.”
He stilled me, and I frowned.
I stroked him up and down. “I’m going to finish.” I licked my lips. “Don’t you want me to?”
“Fuck. Yes.”
“Then…what are you doing?”
“I need to be inside of you.” He said it so naturally. As if it wasn’t a revelation to my senses.
He fished a condom out of his pocket and held it in the air. “Just to be safe.”
I took it out of his hand, tore the wrapper, and unrolled it over his dick. Then I sat back on the too-small bed and tugged my dress up and over my head. I flicked the clasp on my bra and let my breasts fall out.
“Fuck, Jen,” he groaned as his body covered mine. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
Music to my ears. Beautiful wasn’t the word most men used to describe me. I’d firmly been cute most of my life, but when he’d said it, the way he’d said it, I believed him.
The first touch of him between my legs made my eyes roll backward. He squeezed my hip reassuringly before sliding the rest of the way in. It was a tight fit, even as wet as I was. He filled me to the brim in a way that I’d never been filled before. It wasn’t just that I hadn’t had sex in a while. This was Julian. Everything felt so much bigger and better and more momentous.
He leaned forward over me, dragging our lips together as he started thrusting inside of me. I brought my legs up around his hips, meeting his thrusts with my own. I could barely breathe, barely think. Everything was hot and needy and building, building, building.
“Fuck, your pussy is so tight,” he ground out into my ear.
I cried out at the filthy words, and he covered my yells with his mouth, fucking me harder. I didn’t want him to stop. Not ever. My second orgasm was knocking on the door of the first. I could feel it coming on so close. I’d never come twice in one night, except by my own hand.
“Close,” he said.
“So close,” I repeated.
Then he lifted one of my legs onto his shoulder, and I swallowed back a shout as he managed to get even deeper.
“Oh fuck!” I moaned. And then I was coming, and there was no way to stop the cascade as it burst free like a broken dam. I tightened around him to the point of pain.
Julian came hard inside of me as my climax triggered his. He was stiff for a few seconds before finally collapsing forward on top of me.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he mumbled incoherently.
I stroked his dark hair out of his face and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Mmhmm.”
He trailed his fingers over my stomach and to my hips, kissing across my chest and to my breasts. “You’re incredible.”
I was so relaxed that I nearly fell asleep right there with him still buried inside of me. Me. The girl who took an hour to get her brain to calm down enough to sleep every night. I’d never been this relaxed in my entire life.