Chapter 13 #2
Her hands cradle my face, gentle yet insistent, as I draw back just enough to nearly lose myself in the depths of her soulful blue eyes. “You are so beautiful,” I breathe, the words tumbling out, raw and worshipping. “Your body is exquisite–god, Juliette, you’re scrambling my brain, baby.”
A soft gasp escapes her lips, and her hand slips between us, fingers wrapping my throbbing length.
She guides the sheathed head along her slick, swollen center, teasing us both until I’m full-on battling with restraint.
“Please,” she whispers, voice breaking with need. “Fuck me now, Mr. Mercer. Please.”
I can’t deny her and I can’t deny the power of this moment.
One last taste of her breast, my tongue swirling around her hardened nipple before I graze it gently with my teeth.
I claim her mouth in a searing kiss as I thrust forward, burying myself deep inside her in a single smooth, possessive stroke.
She cries out, a raw, uninhibited howl of pleasure that reverberates through the small apartment, her head arching back against the pillows.
I still my movements completely, buried to the hilt, our bodies perfectly joined.
In the quiet distance, a clock ticks steadily, marking the moments as I watch her lashes flutter as she struggles to adjust. I fucking love the way her breath hitches as she takes all of me.
Time halts. Her pulse races visibly at the sensual hollow of her throat, a sheen of sweat glistening on her forehead. I hold back as long as I can, savoring the heavenly grip of her cunt around me.
“You’re so tight,” I murmur against her skin, voice rough with awe. “So warm and perfect–god, Juliette, do you have any idea how perfect you are? How good you feel? This pretty pussy was made for me.”
I can’t stay still any longer. My hips begin to move, slow and deliberate, each languid thrust dragging along her walls, building that delicious friction that pulls us both toward the brink before easing us back.
She hooks her hands behind her knees, pulling herself open wider, offering everything.
The sight of her knuckles whitening, the sheer vulnerability and trust in her grip ignites something feral in me, sends a deep thrum straight to my core, my balls tightening from the intensity of it all.
“I want to be bare inside you,” I admit, following the vulnerable admission with praise. “You’re so gorgeous, so perfect, Juliette. I want to know what you feel like around me, just you and me.”
She nods, licking her lips, looking down to see me sink into her again. “T-take off the condom,” she breathes, the words a plea. “My tests are always negative and I’m on the pill.”
I haven’t done this, not for years.
I shouldn’t.
But I do.
The moment I tear the condom off and sink into Juliette, bare and utterly connected, the world around us picks up, shifting into gear, everything clicking in place.
My lips find hers in a slow, reverent kiss, and our hearts thump in unison, a shared rhythm that seems to echo through my chest. Buried deep inside her, I close my eyes, feeling my cock pulse with need.
Her breath scatters over my bare chest and I become consumed by the exquisite heat of her body wrapped around mine.
She is perfection. Beneath me, flushed and trembling, she is the most breathtaking sight.
My chest constricts, a sharp ache blooming as my breath catches. I’m teetering on the edge, so dangerously close, desperate to pull her over with me–to feel her shatter around my cock the way she did around my fingers before.
God, I want that more than air. More than anything I’ve ever craved.
And that’s the problem.
Because this intensity, this soul-searing pull, has only ever consumed me once before. And it terrifies me to discover that same pull here, inside of Juliette, in her body, in her eyes, in her arms.
Before I can rein it in, before I can consider how my actions will hurt her, I’m pulling out, scrambling off the couch.
My hands shake as I snatch my clothes from the floor, apologies spilling from my lips in a frantic rush.
“I can’t…We shouldn’t… This was–” The words choke me.
I can’t look her in the eyes and call her a mistake.
She’s the furthest thing from it. The truth is, I had to stop because she feels too right. Too real.
And that scares me to my core.
She sits up slowly, tears already tracing glistening paths down her cheeks. My heart fractures at the sight. I drape a blanket around her trembling shoulders, press one last kiss to her lips, soft, apologetic, and aching.
It all unfolds in a blur, too fast to grasp.
Then I’m at the door, voice rough as I call over my shoulder, “Lock this behind me, Juliette.”
On the way to my car, the night air does nothing to cool the fire still raging in my veins. With my cock half-hard, heart pounding, my mind is a chaotic storm. I grip the wheel and dial the one person who truly understands.
“Hey,” my brother answers, voice steady.
“It happened.”
Silence stretches for a beat. He knows. Of course he does. He’s been a widower too.
Of all the things we’ve shared–grief, loss, the hollow ache of moving forward–the one fear that once bound us tighter than blood–the angst of feeling that undeniable pull again. That fierce, all-consuming devotion that says I’d burn the world for you.
I was never afraid of being alone forever.
I was afraid of this.
Because the instant I slid into Juliette bare, I saw it all–the life I was meant to have with Katherine.
And in her place… I saw it with Juliette.