Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Jude
Inever felt like this.
Not with anyone.
Lust, sure. Companionship, yes. Even love, in quiet, flickering ways. But this—this sensation like a thread had been looped through the muscle of my heart and pulled taut, connecting me to another soul—this was new.
And terrifying.
Julian Reed was dangerous. Not just because of the podcast. Not because of the questions he asked or the lies he’d buried beneath his careful charm.
He was dangerous because, despite all of that, I wanted him.
Craved him. Not just his body, but him. The man beneath the skepticism.
The boy who lost his mother to a life of lies.
There was a rawness in him tonight that made my ribs ache. A kind of bruised courage that he didn’t even realize he was showing me.
Poor, lost Julian.
So sure he was in control.
So unaware of how much of his heart had already shown itself.
The rational part of my brain told me to slow down. Take this in stages. Let the connection grow like tree roots, deep and steady in the soil. But…
I wasn’t feeling rational.
I was feeling him.
Without a word, I stood.
Held out my hand.
Julian looked at it like it was a question he wasn’t sure how to answer, but then he slipped his fingers into mine, and I pulled him up from the couch. Our bodies brushed—hip to hip, chest to chest—and I didn’t break eye contact as I turned and led him across the loft to my bedroom.
The space was as sparse as the rest of the loft. White sheets, soft blankets, a simple wooden bed frame. A few woven tapestries on the wall and a shelf of well-loved books. Nothing fancy. Nothing performative. Just warmth and stillness.
I lit a few candles, the flames flickering gently, casting gold and amber across the walls. Shadows danced on the ceiling. The silence stretched between us, but it didn’t feel heavy. It felt charged.
When I turned back to him, Julian was watching me.
Wide-eyed. Breath shallow. Vulnerable in a way that made my chest swell with want and protectiveness in equal measure.
I stepped close. Slid my arms around him. Pressed our bodies together until our heartbeats had no choice but to fall into rhythm.
“I want to make love to you,” I whispered, lips brushing his ear. “I don’t have the right words tonight. But my body… my body never lies.”
He exhaled—sharp, trembling.
And then we were kissing.
Hot and hungry and real.
There was no pretense now. No game. Just mouths meeting like they’d been waiting their whole lives to do so.
Our hands roamed over still-damp clothes, grasping, tugging, craving skin.
I pulled his shirt over his head and let my palms explore his bare chest—warm, lean, imperfect in all the ways that made me want him more.
Julian’s hands were more hesitant, but they found their way—gripping my waist, skimming up my spine. When he slid my shirt off, he paused, just for a second, like he was cataloging me. Seeing not just a body, but the man beneath it.
And then we fell onto the bed, breathless.
The air between us was molten.
I kissed my way down his throat, biting gently at the place where his pulse beat wildly beneath his skin. He moaned—low and guttural—and arched into me.
Skin pressed to skin, and every brush of our bodies was reverent, hungry, worshipful.
Julian was fire and restraint, vulnerability wrapped in sharp edges, and I wanted all of it. I kissed down his chest, memorizing every inch, every hitch of breath, every quiet curse he let slip.
When our hips met, and we aligned—flesh to flesh—I saw it in his face.
Not just lust.
Not just need.
Trust.
I slowed down then, because I had to.
He was opening to me in a way that wasn’t just physical.
He was letting me in.
And I wasn’t going to take that lightly.
I cupped his cheek, leaned down, and kissed him again.
Softly this time, and I felt Julian’s cock press against mine.
Groaning, I kissed the side of his neck and felt his body tense beneath me.
His fingers curled into my hair, and our tongues danced together, a slow and sensual rhythm that mirrored the movements of our bodies.
Julian's fingers traced patterns down my back, sending shivers of desire through me.
Every touch was a spark, igniting a fire that burned hotter with each passing moment.
I broke the kiss and trailed my lips down his chest, savoring the taste of his skin, the saltiness of his sweat. His breath hitched as I reached his navel, my hands gripping his hips, pulling him closer. I could feel the heat of his desire, the urgency in his touch, and it only fueled my own need.
Wrapping my hand around his girth, I blew a stream of air on the head of it, and Julian’s breath hitched.
I looked up, meeting his gaze, and held it as I slowly took him into my mouth.
His eyes fluttered closed, and a deep groan escaped his lips, resonating through me.
I savored him, taking my time, exploring every inch, listening to his body and the subtle shifts that told me what he liked.
His fingers tangled in my hair, guiding me gently, not forcing, just feeling.
I could taste the salt of him, smell the musk of his desire, and it was intoxicating.
Every sound he made, every gasp and hushed whisper of my name, sent waves of heat crashing through me.
I was aching, hard, desperate for him, but this—this was about Julian.
About showing him he was safe with me, that I saw him, that I wanted all of him.
When his hips started to move, when his breath turned to pants and his grip tightened, I knew he was close. I slowed down, letting him catch his breath, then built him up again, taking him deeper, wanting to push him over that edge.
“Jude,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with desire. “Please, I don't want it to end yet. Let me taste you."
I paused, his words sending a rush of heat through me.
I looked up, his cock still glistening from my mouth, and saw the raw need in his eyes.
I released him, gently, and moved up his body, capturing his mouth in a deep, passionate kiss.
He could taste himself on my lips, and it only seemed to fuel his desire.
He pushed me gently, and I rolled onto my back, allowing him to explore my body as I had his. His fingers danced over my skin, tracing the lines of my muscles, the curves of my bones. He kissed my neck, my chest, lingering on my nipples until I was arching into him, gasping his name.
Julian's mouth moved lower, kissing every inch of me as if it were sacred ground.
I felt his hot breath on my stomach, his tongue dipping into my navel, and I shivered with anticipation.
When he finally took my cock into his mouth, it was my turn to grip his hair, my turn to gasp and moan and whisper his name like it was a secret that belonged only to me.
He was tentative at first, but his confidence grew with each sound of pleasure he drew from me.
He explored me with his tongue, his lips, his hands, and I was lost in the sensation, lost in him.
I felt his fingers brush against that sensitive spot behind my balls, and I bucked into his mouth, a cry escaping my lips.
"Julian," I gasped, "I'm close, but I don't want this to end yet."
He looked up at me, my cock still in his mouth, and the sight of him—his lips swollen, his eyes filled with desire and trust, made me shiver. Julian released my cock from his lips, and it hit my stomach with a soft smack.
"I want to make love to you, Julian." My body trembled as I got to my knees. Julian slid onto his back and his legs spread open, making room for me. I got in between his legs and rubbed the head of my cock against his entrance.
"God, I want you inside of me, Jude." A tear snaked down the side of his nose, and I had to wonder if this really was the first time he'd ever made love. Not fucked. No, I was sure he'd had many men before me. But I wanted to connect with him in the most intimate way possible.
I leaned over, brushed my lips across his, then I reached into the nightstand and pulled out condoms and a tube of lube.
I warmed the slick gel between my fingers before gently tracing his entrance, feeling him tense briefly before relaxing into my touch.
I took my time, circling, pressing lightly, letting him get used to the sensation.
His breath hitched, and I leaned down to kiss him, swallowing his gasps, feeling his body gradually open up to me.
I slid one finger inside, slowly, carefully, watching his face for any sign of discomfort.
But all I saw was desire, trust, and a growing need.
I moved my finger in and out, crooking it slightly to find that spot that made his eyes roll back and his body arch.
When he started to move with me, I added a second finger, stretching him, preparing him.
His hands gripped the sheets, his knuckles white, but his eyes never left mine. "More," he whispered, his voice raw with need. "I want more of you, Jude."
I withdrew my fingers and quickly rolled on the condom, slicking it with lube.
Positioning myself at his entrance, I leaned down to kiss him again, our tongues mimicking the act I was about to perform.
I pushed in slowly, inch by inch, giving him time to adjust, to accept me.
His body tensed briefly, and I stilled, whispering words of reassurance against his lips.
"You feel amazing, Julian," I murmured, my voice hoarse with desire. "So tight, so warm."
He relaxed, and I slid in deeper, until I was fully sheathed inside him. We stayed like that for a moment, our bodies joined, our hearts pounding in sync. Then I started to move, slowly at first, then building up a rhythm that had us both gasping and moaning.
His hands were on my back, my shoulders, my face, touching me like he couldn't get enough. I could feel every tremor of his body, every hitch of his breath, and it was intoxicating. This was more than just sex—this was a connection, a merging of souls.
I reached between us and wrapped my hand around his cock, stroking him in time with my thrusts. His head fell back, exposing his throat, and I leaned down to kiss the pulse point, feeling his heartbeat against my lips.
"Jude," he gasped, "I'm close. So close."
I felt it too, the way his body tightened around me, the way his breath hitched in his throat. I thrust deeper, harder, my hand working him faster. Our bodies were slick with sweat, our breaths mingling, and our hearts pounding as one.
His eyes met mine, wide and vulnerable, and I saw it again—that trust, that raw emotion that made my chest ache. I leaned down, kissed him deeply, swallowing his moans, feeling his body tense beneath me.
"Let go, Julian," I whispered against his lips. "Let go for me."
And he did. "Oh God, Jude."
Julian's body convulsed, his cock pulsing in my hand as he came, hot and heavy, between us. The sight of him, the feel of him, pushed me over the edge. I thrust into him one last time, my body shaking as I found my own release, his name a whisper on my lips.
We stayed like that for a moment, our bodies still joined, our breaths slowing, our hearts gradually returning to their normal rhythm. I kissed his forehead, his cheeks, his lips, tasting the salt of his sweat and tears.
Slowly, I withdrew from him, discarding the condom before pulling him into my arms. He nestled against my chest, his body warm and pliant, a contented sigh escaping his lips. I grabbed the edge of the blanket, pulling it over us, cocooning us in warmth.
The silence between us was comfortable, like we'd been together our entire lives, the aftermath of our lovemaking still lingering in the air. Julian's heartbeat against my chest, his breath on my skin, and it felt right. Like this was where we were meant to be.
"Thank you," Julian murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.
I looked down at him, puzzled. "For what?"
He looked up at me, his eyes soft, a small smile playing on his lips. "For seeing me. For wanting me. For making me feel... safe."
My heart swelled at his words, and I pulled him closer, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "You are safe with me, Julian. Always."