Chapter 28 #2
“Fuck.” He breaks away, panting, then dives back in with another groan—deeper this time, animalistic—as he grinds his thick erection between my legs. Even through our clothes, the friction sparks heat that coils low in my stomach, tight and insistent. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted—”
“Julien.”
He releases one of my hands to cup my face, thumb brushing my swollen lips, his touch rough yet reverent. “Say it again.”
“What?”
“My name.” His mouth moves to my jaw, teeth scraping along the line of it. “Say it again. Louder. Let me hear how much you need me.”
“Julien.” Breathless. Desperate. “Please.”
He rewards me by finding a spot below my ear that makes my breath hitch. “Good girl.” He latches onto it, sucking hard enough to leave a mark, his tongue flicking against the sensitised skin, and some distant part of my brain registers that everyone will see it tomorrow.
And I… simply don’t care.
Let them see. Let them know.
I cup the back of his head, fingers threading through his hair, guiding him back to my lips.
His kiss tastes like possession now, like ownership, like the fantasies coming fully to life.
His free hand finds my thigh, hooking it around his hip, changing the angle so his erection presses exactly where I need him, creating friction against my clit through the annoying layers of fabric.
I whimper into his mouth, the sound swallowed by his growl, my hips bucking up, chasing like I’m the one starving.
“Fuck, you’re responsive.” His voice is gravel and smoke. “You’re wet, aren’t you?”
“Julien, please—”
“Do you want me to stop?” His forehead drops to mine, both of us panting. “If this is too fast, and I’ll—”
I kiss him again.
Don’t stop. Don’t ever stop. Don’t let me disappear anymore.
His smile against my lips is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever felt. Relief, hunger, and something that feels like victory. Then he shifts, putting me on top of him in one fluid movement, his hands finding the hem of my shirt.
“Off.” The command sends liquid heat straight to my core.
He yanks it over my head, and I attack his belt buckle with trembling fingers, fumbling with the mechanism until he helps me, shoving his jeans down his hips with rough efficiency. My sports bra goes next, flying somewhere across the room.
The cool air hits my fevered skin, pebbling my nipples, but his gaze is worse in the best way, devouring me, dark and possessive, making me feel exposed, wanted, and seen.
“Beautiful.” The word comes out hushed, reverent, gliding over my skin like a caress. Then his mouth finds my breast, and reverence gives way to hunger.
He sucks hard enough to make me cry out, my fingers digging into the back of his head, nails scraping against his scalp. His tongue flicks against my nipple before he bites down gently.
No patience. No slow buildup. Just desperate need and weeks of tension, finally snapping.
He rolls us again, his strength effortless, and works my jeans down my legs.
I kick them off along with my soaked underwear, the cotton clinging to my slick skin.
Then he digs into his pocket for a condom—thank god one of us is thinking—tearing the foil open with his teeth while his eyes lock on mine, promising devastation.
I prop myself on my elbows, watching as he rolls the latex down his length. His cock stands thick and hard, flushed dark at the tip, and my core clenches in response, empty and aching to be filled by none other than him.
He covers my body with his, kneeling between my spread thighs and poking the head of his cock into my entrance. I’m so wet, so ready, that he sinks halfway in on the first push, making me gasp.
The stretch burns. Perfect. Overwhelming.
“Breathe,” he commands, voice strained. “Relax for me.”
I force myself to exhale, and he slides deeper. My head falls back on a moan, the rough carpet biting into my shoulders, and he takes advantage, sealing his lips against my throat, sucking another mark as he bottoms out.
“Fuck,” he grits out. “You feel—”
I roll my hips experimentally, cutting off whatever else he might say, the drag of him inside me igniting every nerve.
He takes the hint, backing out slowly until only the tip remains, then slamming back in.
My body jerks, overwhelmed by the intensity, the fullness, the way he hits every sensitive spot inside me.
“That’s it.” His rhythm builds, each thrust harder, deeper, driving me across the rough carpet until he anchors me with a hand on my hip, fingers digging in like he’ll never let go. Never let me disappear again. “Good girl.”
I can’t form words, can only moan and whimper as he pounds into me, his cock hitting places inside me that make everything go hazy with pleasure. The slap of skin on skin fills the room, mixed with our ragged breaths.
Then he slows, torturously, giving me inch by inch, his mouth ghosting over mine for a kiss that’s incongruously gentle, given the brutal pace he was setting.
“You take me so well,” he murmurs. “So perfect for me.”
“Julien—” His name breaks on my lips with another deep thrust.
He slides his hand between us, thumb finding my swollen clit and circling with perfect pressure. The dual sensations are too much, too good. Building me up like a storm.
“Fuck.” His hand wraps around my throat as he leans in and brushes his lips against the shell of my ear. “Will you be a good girl for me and come on my cock?”
I nod frantically. So close. Right there.
“Look at me,” he commands. “I want to see it. See you fall apart for me.”
My eyes flutter open, locking on his. The intensity there—raw need, possessive heat, something that looks dangerously like… no—
I shatter.
My whole body quivers, waves of pleasure crashing through me so violently I scream his name, my pussy clenching around him in rhythmic pulses that seem to go on forever.
Alive. Free. He keeps moving, keeps touching me, wringing every last tremor from me until I’m boneless and spent, tears streaming down my cheeks from the overwhelming release, not just physical, but emotional, like he’s fucked the invisibility right out of me.
No one can take this from me.
“That’s my girl,” he murmurs against my temple, still moving inside me. “You’re so fucking perfect. So beautiful when you come.”
The words sink in, mending cracks in my soul that I’ve been patching with tape my whole life. His rhythm falters, hips stuttering as he chases his own release, and I clench around him deliberately, wanting to give him the same shattering pleasure he gave me.
Three more claiming thrusts, and he’s following me over the edge with a deep growl that tears from his chest, his body going rigid as he empties himself inside me.
We collapse together, sweaty and trembling. His weight should be uncomfortable, but I wrap my arms around his neck, holding him against me, never wanting to let go.
“Dakota.” He turns his head and kisses me.
Soft. Sweet. Tender.
Still buried inside me, still connected in the most intimate way possible.
He rolls his hips, thrusting deeper, and I jerk, oversensitive and raw, a whimper escaping as fresh sparks ignite. The carpet’s rough against my ass, sweat cools on my skin, the weight of him pins me down, a faint pleasant soreness blooms between my thighs, but I never felt better.
“So,” he says, voice ragged but teasing, lips quirking up at the corner, “never pegged you for someone who’d get so wet from being called a good girl.”
Heat floods my cheeks. “I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did.” He drops his voice lower, lips brushing my ear. “You clenched around me. Hard.” His teeth graze my earlobe. “Every single time I said it.”
I squirm beneath him, embarrassed and turned on all over again. His cock twitches inside me, and I bite back another moan, my body already responding despite the oversensitivity.
“Shall we test that theory? See if I’m right?” His hand strokes my hair back from my face, the tenderness at odds with the devil in his eyes. “Good girl.”
The words send another pulse of heat through me, and he feels it, his eyes darkening with renewed hunger.
“What about the party?” The words come out strangled.
He chuckles, dark and amused, and plunges deeper inside of me. I moan, torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer, greedy for more.
“Mm.” Another slow thrust as he watches my face closely. “We’ll go. But next time…” He leans down, his breath hot against my ear. “Next time, I won’t let you leave.”
It’s a promise. Not just about tonight or tomorrow morning. About all of it. The disappearing, the pretending, the careful distance I’ve maintained.
Next time, he won’t let me leave.
And god help me, I don’t want him to.
Because for once in my life, I’ve taken something just for me. Something real. Something that makes me feel alive instead of invisible.
And it feels right.
It feels like I finally found a home I’d like to return to.