Chapter 13
I shouldn’t be here.
I have no logical way to explain it if I get caught.
Caught doing what? I don’t know, because I’m not sure what I’m doing.
And yet, as she pulls open her apartment door, blonde hair messy around her face, voluptuous thighs on display in nothing but an oversized t-shirt, I know it would take an army to make me leave.
“I thought he’d never leave,” I breathe out, saying the words that are etched over my heart. I don’t know what’s changed, but the years of casually ignoring the way Juliette has matured and blossomed, and has become the only woman that catches my attention, I just can’t ignore it anymore.
The realization is jarring. Unexpected, even.
But I can’t ignore what she makes me feel.
She pulls the door open wide, and in an instant, I have her pinned against it, the wood creaking softly behind her back as I push it closed.
My hands move with desperate urgency, fingers fumbling blindly along the edge of the wood until they find a lock, twisting it shut with a decisive click.
All the while, my mouth claims hers in a fierce, consuming kiss, hungry and unyielding, as if the world beyond that door ceases to exist. And maybe it does.
Maybe as long as that door is shut and locked, what happens inside the apartment is our secret, safe and private.
I don’t know, but I know figuring out what’s transpiring between us is for another day, another time, because this moment is engulfed in passion, and I wouldn’t douse that for a reality we both clearly are avoiding.
“Fucking hell, Juliette. You are absolutely gorgeous.” I’m caught between not wanting to take my mouth off of her and wanting to shower her in years of unspoken praise, praise I had no idea was festering at the surface inside me.
With those soft lips pressed to mine, her silken hair tangled in my fist, her hands grabbing at my chest, working the remaining buttons on my shirt, I feel something I haven’t felt in a long time.
Not aroused, but I am that, I am very much that.
Juliette grinds against me as I release her hair and hip, and that warm, unexplainable feeling in my belly unfolds, making my neck and face hot.
Still, I move my mouth down her throat as I worm out of my shirt, moving to my belt while she reaches for my wallet, fishing a hopeful condom out.
I’ve thoughtlessly kept one, and suddenly it makes sense why.
Panting, chests heaving, her lips and nose ruddy from the affectionate assault, she holds the foil square between us, and our eyes lock over the top of it.
I could stop now.
Juliette Wilson, who looked to me to help her decide which college to apply to and how to fill out financial aid applications, is holding a condom that she wants me to put on so we can have sex.
Sober and of my sound mind, I look at the square, the tiny little square that means so little when stashed into my wallet, but means the world when it stands between me and her.
As I'm considering if I should do what my instinct tells me, and make love to this beautiful, talented, amazing woman, or if I should do what’s right, and leave her be, her face falters.
It’s that moment of hesitation that floods her with insecurity, and I can see it, burning beneath her skin.
She swallows, and her eyes drop to her bare toes, and it’s then I know, I can’t stop.
I can’t let her think anything but the truth.
I fucking want her.
I tear the condom from her hand and use my teeth to rip it open. “If you don’t want this–” I start, trying to give her an out as I shove down my slacks, my erection falling into my hand immediately, eager and ready.
She stares at my cock, cheeks flush, nipples hard behind the worn old t-shirt, and after a minute, looks up at me. “I want this,” she says, “I want you, I’ve wanted you–”
My mouth is on hers before she can finish.
When she reaches between us and grabs my cock, my entire back tenses, and my breath catches as I hiss out a groan.
“Fuck, Juliette,” I moan, goosebumps rising up along the flesh of my arms and chest at hearing her name so feral, and from my mouth.
She pumps me, taking the condom from my hand as she lines it up with my reddened cockhead.
Rolling it down, she makes little noises of delight in the back of her throat, like she’s edging just by touching me.
It’s fucking hot, and it’s been so long since I’ve been feral for sex, my mind is reeling. With my erect cock sheathed and bobbing between us, Juliette fills her hand with my balls, and gives them a gentle tug, making me roar.
My head falls back and she drops to her knees, licking and lathing my sack like she’s starved.
“Take off your shirt,” I grumble. “I need to see that beautiful body, baby, please,” I moan, stroking my fingers through the top of her hair as she treats my balls to the heaven of her mouth.
She tips back, hesitancy rendering her frozen, my balls in her hand. She doesn’t say anything, but the expression on her face somehow angers me, as if I know just what Harry said to her the last time she was nude.
I reach past the straining heat of my cock, sliding my hands beneath her arms, and lift her effortlessly to her feet.
Her gaze locks onto mine, steady and trusting, as my fingers find the hem of her t-shirt.
With deliberate care, I pull it up and over her head, careful not to tangle her beautiful hair.
I hold her eyes, refusing to let mine wander just yet. Hers shimmer, brimming with emotion, and in response, I brush a tender kiss across her lips, a silent promise that she’s treasured when she’s with me.
Then, with her standing bare and vulnerable before me, the weight of the moment settles deep in my chest. I need to hear it from her. I need to know this is what she craves as fiercely as I do.
“Do I have the privilege of looking at you?” My voice comes out rough, frayed at the edges, as though I’ve been drinking all night instead of nursing just a few. “Please, Juliette.”
In that instant, I know I would sink to my knees and beg if she asked me. A tear rolls down one pink cheek but she swipes it away, nodding, the words nearly a whisper when she murmurs, “yes, you can.”
My eyes land on her breasts first, heavy, full, and tipped by the most perfect nipples, hardened and pink.
“Fuuuck.” That’s all I can manage, because she’s so beautiful, so sexy, I’m speechless for a moment.
I collect her in my hands, and she spills over, causing a groan to lift from my lips as my cock bobs, still sheathed, eager for more.
“I can’t believe this,” she murmurs, her eyes moving over my cock, my balls, the ink on my thighs and on my chest. “I can’t believe you’re here. Like this. With me.”
I lower my mouth to one of her perfect, pert nipples, rosy and begging for attention, and draw it between my lips with a slow, deliberate suck. A broken moan escapes her as I guide her backward, step by step, until the backs of her knees meet the couch and she sinks down beneath me.
Her fingers thread through my hair, tugging gently, possessively, and the simple touch sends a hot pulse of need straight through me. A low groan rumbles in my chest as I feel the first slick rush of arousal spill free, caught safely by the condom.
God, it’s been so long since anyone has undone me like this.
She’s breathtaking; every curve, every gasp, every shiver. So utterly, devastatingly sexy.
I ease her down onto the cushions, pinning her gently beneath my weight, and hook my thumbs into the delicate lace of her panties. Slowly, I drag them down her thighs, getting rid of them. Settling between her legs, I look up at her, drinking in the flush on her skin, the trust shining in her eyes.
“Can I taste you, sweetheart?” The words come out rough and reverent.
I don’t say the rest–that I’d likely combust at this point if she refused me.
She doesn’t speak. Instead, she draws her knees back, opening herself completely, offering everything to me in a single, earth shattering act of surrender. My chest grows tight.
Juliette is this intoxicating blend of shy and fearless, vulnerable yet daring, and I know, with a certainty that steals my breath, that she would only ever bare herself like this for me.
I’ve known that kind of trust once before. The rare, soul-deep bond where you lay every insecurity, every hidden piece of yourself, at the feet of one person–one trusted, cherished, fiercely loved soul.
That was Katherine.
And now… it’s Juliette.
I kiss her clit, blooming and shiny with arousal, my cock pressing into her couch cushions angrily.
Her flavor explodes across my tongue, sweet and tangy, as I drive my hands into the softest part of her thighs, keeping her pinned wide open.
Peering up over her shaved mound, I find her eyes, hooded and bleary, peeking down at me.
“You taste like heaven, sweetheart,” I praise, massaging her thighs as I suck her clit between my teeth and roll it gently until she’s squirming.
“Oh my god,” she moans, lifting her hips off the couch, her wet cunt seeking more of my mouth.
It’s hot, it’s frantic, and it makes me feel like this is the place I belong.
“Please, more, Mr. Mercer, more,” she begs, and I nuzzle into her pussy deeper, slipping two fingers inside of her as I suckle and nibble her sensitive clit.
“Juliette,” I growl, stalking over her until we’re face to face.
The couch creaks beneath us, surely not made for what’s coming, but I’m too eager to get inside her to move to her room.
With my mouth back on hers, her tongue colliding with mine as she tries to moan my name, I need her to know just how special she is, how good she feels.