51. It’s Supposed to Be Me #2
He walked her backward onto the bed and my heart hammered like a trapped bird, the thumping so loud in my ears I was almost afraid they could hear too. They were about to fuck. I shouldn’t have been here. I knew that. But I was stuck.
Through the slats of the closet doors, I had an unobstructed view.
Julian’s back was to me. The sheer breadth of his shoulders was undeniable.
His skin was a rich ebony, gleaming faintly under the ambient light of the bedside lamp.
He was wearing nothing but a pair of black boxers that hugged the tight, muscular curve of his ass.
He looked like a sculpture carved from onyx, every ridge of muscle defined and hard.
Alyssa was already on the bed, reclining against the mountain of pillows.
I could admit she was breathtaking in a way that made my stomach churn with acid.
Her skin was a luminous nutmeg, contrasting with the pale gray sheets.
She was in a red bra and panty set, and her fake-ass hair framed her face.
Her eyes were wide and shimmering, fixed on Julian with a mixture of adoration and hunger.
I pressed my hand over my mouth, breathing shallowly through my nose. I was an intruder, but I couldn't look away. I needed to see. Needed to know what she had that I didn’t.
Julian moved to the end of the bed, and reached out, his large hand covering her ankle as his thumb stroked the skin there. Then he yanked her down to him as she shrieked. He hooked both hands into the band of her panties and pulled them off.
“Lay on your stomach,” he commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument. “Legs together.”
My heart raced faster and my breath kept getting caught in my throat. She moved instantly, rolling over gracefully. She stretched out flat, head turned, eyes closed, her legs together.
I watched, paralyzed, as Julian stood up, stripped off his boxers letting his dick spring free, jutting out from his body with insistence. He was magnificent. My body reacted traitorously, a flush of yearning rose up my body at the sight of him, as memories of how good he felt flooded my system.
He climbed onto the bed, straddling her legs, gliding a hand over her ass.
He hovered over her, planting his hands on either side of her shoulders.
Then lowered his hips, letting the heavy length of his dick slide between her cheeks, teasing her.
He bit gently at the back of her neck, his teeth scraping her skin there.
She moaned, a low, throaty sound that seemed to pull the air out of the room. She pushed her hips back against him, seeking friction.
“Patience,” he said against her ear, but his own restraint was visibly snapping.
He shifted his hips, aligning himself with her pussy, and with one slow, smooth thrust, he pushed inside her.
I saw her fingers claw into the pillows, her back bowed further in the air as he filled her.
Julian groaned and his head dropped forward, and he didn't stop until his pelvis was flush against her ass.
Then he began to move. Long, slow, deep strokes where he’d pull almost all the way out, then plunge back in, grinding his hips against her at the bottom of every thrust. The rhythm was hypnotic, a slow torture that built tension like a tightening wire.
“Juliannnn,” she whined and moaned, her voice choked with ecstasy.
“Mmph, you feel too good,” he growled with a strained voice. “Too good.”
That caught me off guard. Julian was a quiet lover. Barely even grunted or groaned, let alone expressing his pleasure with words.
He picked up his pace, alternating between slow, grinding circles and fast, punishing thrusts.
The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the room, a wet, rhythmic, thwack-thwack-thwack, that drowned out my own exploding heartbeat.
I watched the muscles in his back ripple and flex with every movement, glistening with a sheen of sweat.
He was a machine, driving into her with a primal intensity that made the bed frame creak and rock.
She was unraveling beneath him. Wailing out with every deep stroke, her body trembling uncontrollably. The way he took her, even from behind? It was possession. Claiming.
“Bend your knees,” he ordered suddenly.
She struggled to comply, bringing her legs up so her feet were in the air, her knees bent at a ninety-degree angle behind his back. The position changed the angle of her hips, opening her up.
Julian sat back on his heels for a moment, reached behind his back and grabbed her ankles, pulling them toward him, using her legs as an anchor. I was shook.
He slammed back into her, at an angle I was sure was impossibly deep.
“Oh My—Julian! Yeeees!” Alyssa cried out, her voice shaking.
He used the leverage of her legs to piston into her, relentlessly. The bed was shaking violently, the headboard slamming against the wall with thuds. They were lost in it.
“I’m… comiiing,” she sobbed, her hands gripping the sheets so hard the corner of the bottom sheet slipped off the mattress. “Yes…Yes…YES….Yeeeeeees… Ohhhhhhhhh!”
He let go of her legs and slowed down, as her body went rigid, then she let out a sound that was gasping and sobbing, as the orgasm tore through her. Her legs shook.
“Fuuuuuu—” he hit his peak and let out a guttural roar, his body seizing as his climax took him.
They lay there tangled together, heaving. Slowly, the tension drained out of Julian’s shoulders and he carefully pulled out of her.
No condom. In all the time I had been with him, he never went without protection. It was a strict rule with him, yet there he was giving it to her raw?
My heart sank.
He turned her spent body onto her side and pulled her into his arms, kissing her face, her forehead, her lips, mumbling soft words I couldn't catch. She was still trembling, small aftershocks rippling through her.
“I’ll get you a washcloth,” he told her, brushing a stray hair away from her forehead. “Want water?”
She could only nod.
He climbed off the bed and grabbed a bottle of water off a shelf, handing it to her.
Then he disappeared into the bathroom. I could hear the toilet flush and the faucet run.
He returned with a washcloth and sat on the edge of the bed.
She was still catching her breath and had not opened the water yet, so he lifted her head, twisted off the cap and helped her sip.
She drank greedily, her hand resting on his thigh.
When she was done, he set the bottle down, and gently wiped her down with a tenderness that brought tears to my eyes.
He touched her as if she were made of spun glass, not the woman he’d just ravaged within an inch of being comatose.
He cut off the lamp and pulled the heavy duvet up, cocooning them. She immediately rolled into him, burying her face in his chest as he wrapped his arms around her.
“I love you,” he said softly.
Those words from his mouth shot through the air and hit me like a .357 Magnum aimed point blank at my chest. My ears started ringing and my head throbbed. I slowly slid down to the floor, for fear I might pass out with a thud.
“I love you, too,” she whispered back.
He kissed her. “Run in the morning?” She groaned into his chest.
I sat there in the darkness of the closet, with my legs numb and my heart shattered into a thousand jagged shards.
I had been right about him. I always knew Julian was a man capable of love.
I had been the one who said the version of him every other woman met was not the real version.
I had been the one who said he was just careful, and that if you were patient enough, the part of him he kept locked down would unlock.
I had been right about every single thing I’d ever known about him. I had been wrong about one thing only. The woman.
The tenderness had been saved for her. The I love you had been saved for her. Every part of him I had spent years earning the right to access had been waiting for a widow with a kid to walk in and snatch it.
She had not even asked. Didn’t earn it. He had given her everything I had been earning for years, easily.
It wasn’t fair.
I had to swallow the bile climbing up my throat. Having to stand there and watch them make love wasn’t the thing that made me sick. Hearing them profess their love for each other? That destroyed me from the inside out.
I had been with Julian more times than I could count. He had never looked at me like that. He had never touched me like that. Never held me like I was the most precious thing in the world after we finished.
With me, sex was great, so I thought. But this? This was something else entirely. This was a man completely undone by a woman, taking her apart to undo her as well, then putting her back together again with his own tenderness. He never came close to giving me that.