Chapter 25
Julian noted, as the sun went down, that Petula ate very little, even though his family had left them a delicious casserole which Julian had attacked with gusto.
“You going to finish that?” He pointed at her plate.
She laughed. “I wasn’t planning on it. But there’s no way you can fit—”
Before she could end her sentence, Julian was already scooping the remnants from her plate onto his.
“Julian,” she tsked, amusedly. “Won’t you be too full to, um, do…stuff a little while from now?”
He laughed. “Are you kidding? I’ve been known to eat twice this much, do an hour’s worth of PT, then go for a ten-mile run. And that’s work. Sex is fun.”
“Fun…” Petula repeated speculatively. “I’ve never actually put sex in that category before.”
“Because you haven’t been with the right guy.” He winked, scraping up the last bit of the tuna and noodles, shoveling them into his mouth.
“And it’ll be different with you?” she questioned with a crooked smile.
“Yup. We’re going to make this first time as playful and carefree as possible.” Julian told her after he’d finished chewing.
He’d been thinking about this, and figured that a good way to keep Petula from getting too much up in her own head, would be if they left any heavy stuff out of their initial encounter, and kept things lighthearted. There’d be no demands, no expectations, and no pressure at all to perform.
“I…like the sound of that,” Petula responded shyly.
Julian gave her a collaborating smile. He stood, and took their dishes to the sink where he rinsed them off and put them in the dishwasher, then turned to Petula and held out a hand.
“You ready?” he asked.
She sucked in a deep breath and got to her feet, her expression resembling someone who was headed for the executioner.
That wouldn’t do.
“Hey,” he assured her, putting a finger beneath her chin and lifting her pretty blue eyes toward his.
“No pressure, okay? Everything is fluid. If you feel like laying still and not moving, that’s what you’ll do.
If you need to orchestrate what will happen, I’ll roll with it.
And if you hate anything I’m doing, and I mean anything, you tell me immediately and I’ll stop.
This is for our mutual pleasure, Petula. Not just mine.”
Petula looked at him as if he were too good to be true.
It eased some of the angst Julian was keeping well hidden; thinking that he’d do something wrong and blow this party all to hell before it even got started.
Right now, however, Petula seemed to have found some courage, and rolled her eyes at him. “Remember. I’ve had sex, Julian,” she told him. “I’m not a virgin, so I know how things work.”
Julian gave her a hint of what was in his head. “I know that. But… You’ve only gone through the motions, Petula. At least that’s what I’ve garnered from what you’ve told me. There’s a lot involved that may be new to you.”
“Such as?” she asked with a practiced, arched brow, but he could see her curiosity bleeding through.
“What about foreplay?” he encouraged. “Have you ever had a man taste you? Down there?” His eyes dropped to the seam of her jeans.
He needed some clue as to what direction he could take this in, and how comfortable she’d be.
A fire-engine-red blush lit up her cheeks. “No,” she told him softly. “Nobody’s ever done that before. But I’m…interested.”
Julian couldn’t help the smile that came to his lips. “Good. Because it’s something I love to do, and I have a feeling that with you, it’s going to blow my mind.”
Her crimson bloom didn’t diminish, but thankfully her shy smile said she was telling him the truth.
That was enough for Julian.
“So. Let’s get moving.” She turned, and…
“Crap. I wanted to make a confident exit,” she laughed, somewhat mortified. “But I have no clue where the bedroom is?” She placed one palm against her hot cheek.
“No worries.” Julian laughed. “We’ll make that confident exit, together, if that’s okay. How would you feel if I scoop you up again, but this time like in the movies, and carry you to our boudoir?” he asked.
Petula snorted, and in a blink, her embarrassment bled away. “What kind of a question is that? And boudoir?” she postured, then giggled. “Yes, is the answer. What girl doesn’t dream of being picked up and carried off by her Prince Charming?”
He chuckled. “I’m not sure about charming, but I make a damned good pack-mule,” Julian replied.
Without wasting another breath, he bent down and, supporting her back with one arm this time, he put the other under her knees and easily lifted her up to be cradled in his arms.
“Are you sure I’m not too heavy?” she asked, chewing on the inside of her cheek.
“Phht. Compared to what? A pound of feathers?” he teased, and hoisted her even higher, placing a kiss on her abdomen where her shirt had ridden up.
She giggled. “I may be a little ticklish. In a few different places,” she warned.
Julian raised his head. “Then I’ll be extra careful. Now, this is the last bit of seriousness we’re going to have over the next couple hours.” He regarded her intensely. “I want to reiterate what I already told you. If I do anything you don’t like, and that includes tickling, you will let me know.”
Petula saluted him sassily, and Julian laughed.
“See? We’re already off to a good start. A worthy soldier always shows deference to their superior officer.”
She barked out a surprised laugh as Julian executed a perfect, one heel turn, leading into an over-the-top, parade march toward his bedroom.
Julian was euphoric to have Petula secure in his arms, bubbling over with mirth.
Absolute perfection.
He hiked them into the bedroom, and…
Speaking of perfect.
“Oh, my god. Look what my family has done to this room,” he marveled, turning Petula so she could see. The pictures they’d sent hadn’t begun to do it justice.
Her eyes grew wide. “It’s stunning,” she said.
That was an understatement.
The ladies had dressed the king-sized bed—a huge, four-poster—with a lush, red and gold comforter. Topping it with pillows to match, they’d added turquoises and blues, as well. It wasn’t a color scheme Julian would ever have gone with, but it really worked.
The large, floor to ceiling curtains that would cover the lengthy windows matched the bed-covers, and someone—he guessed it would have been Bobbie, the visually creative genius—had picked out modern art for the walls that complimented everything perfectly.
The result was luxurious, but not over-the-top in a way that you wouldn’t want to mess it up. No. It was perfect, comfortable, and welcoming.
“I have no words,” Petula added. “I never would have been able to come up with this on my own.”
“Me, either,” Julian agreed. “But… Wait. I noticed you have some awesome art in your house. Who picked that out?” It had to have been her.
She grinned. “Nobody.”
“Huh?” Julian mused.
Petula quickly clarified. “Statler painted all those watercolors.”
“Seriously?” Julian was blown away. “I never would have figured that.”
“The man has many talents,” she agreed. “But Julian,” she laid a hand on his chest, “let’s not talk about Statler right now. I want to find out if the man in front of me has any hidden talents to show me.”
“Happy to oblige,” Julian responded, relieved things were finally getting underway.
He’d been having a difficult time keeping his libido in check, but with those words of encouragement, his cock hardened from soft pine to solid oak…
which meant he had to surreptitiously reach down and rearrange things in order not to get himself into painful circumstances that might compromise his upcoming performance.
Once Julian was certain he wasn’t in jeopardy of choking his cock, he walked across the room to place Petula gently on the mattress. Briefly, he kissed her softly parted lips, then stood and turned, rubbing his hands together as he plotted.
“First, the curtains and the lights,” he assured her, walking over to pull the drapes closed.
“Umm…” Petula called his attention back to her, and he paused with his hand on the light switch, giving her his attention.
“I know this is going to sound pretty selfish of me, but…” She wrinkled her nose, clearly hesitant to finish her sentence.
“What?” Julian asked, then reminded her. “Don’t be afraid to say what you want. Remember. Anything goes.”
“Okay,” she blew out a gust of air. “Even though I need lights out, could you possibly…? Will you…?” She finally spit it out. “Before you turn off the lights will you take off your clothes so I can see you?” The last sentence came out so fast it almost sounded like a single word.
Julian grinned. “You mean, you want me to strip for you?” he asked with a smirk.
She nodded, her eyes holding both uncertainty and heat.
Wow. Julian would be pleased to do what he could, but…there was that skinny, awkward, geeky kid inside him that wondered if she’d like what she’d see.
He’d had plenty of women tell him he was handsome and built over the years, but their praise had never mattered much. With Petula, he really wanted her approval.
Maybe telling her about his doubts would help Petula shed some of hers.
“I, uh, mentioned that when I was young, I was slow to mature,” he reminded her. “So, part of me,” he cleared his throat, “when I look in the mirror, still sees that scrawny kid. Which means… Right now, with you, I’m not exactly oozing confidence, because your opinion matters to me so much.”
Petula sat, bolt upright. “Oh, Julian. I’m an idiot. It’s all good. Really, it is. Please ignore what I said. I don’t want you to feel bad. We’ll turn out the lights, get under the covers, and neither one of us will—.”
“No.”
Julian had already made up his mind. He’d not only get naked for her, he’d make sure she got a good show. “I’m going to do this,” he told her. “I just wanted you to know you’re not the only one with reservations.”
She lay back down, slowly, nodding, but still appearing a little uncertain. “Okay. But if at any point you get weirded out, you stop. Understand?” she said, throwing his get-out-of-jail-free card, back at him.
Julian chuckled. “Yes, ma’am. But right now…”
Julian did a quick two-step to get himself in the mood, then put on his best bump and grind.
The immediate smile on Petula’s face egged him on.
Channeling the guy in the movie that a few of his female teammates had teased him into seeing, Julian tried to recall some of the dance moves he’d witnessed, and emulate them. Wouldn’t that bunch of soldiers be laughing their asses off right now to know that his reluctant viewing was paying off.
Julian placed his hands behind his head and did a few pelvic thrusts, rocking his ass side to side, then turned his back to Petula to give her a couple good tush-pushes.
When she giggled, he knew he had her.
He toed off his sneakers, pitching them deftly, one by one, across the room toward the walk-in closet.
For that, he got a round of applause.
Not letting her ovation go to his head, Julian focused on making the next bit of business look sexy.
He reached for the hem of his shirt and slowly drew it upward, giving her a glimpse of his back muscles before he spun around, and taunted her with peeks at his abs.
First an inch, then two, then three, before…
He lowered it back down which had Petula pouting.
Perfect.
He ran his hand up underneath the material, flagrantly caressing his chest where she couldn’t see, while throwing his head back in mock ecstasy.
That got him a snort.
Amusement was good, too.
Not wasting any more time, Julian whipped the shirt up and over his head, twirling it on his finger and letting it go to land on the bed, right next to Petula’s hip.
She picked it up, buried her face in it, and blatantly inhaled while maintaining torrid eye contact.
Julian’s pike-like cock got even harder.
Yes. Let the fun begin.
He played with the buckle on his belt, letting his hand dip lower to caress the jeans-bulge she could clearly see at the front of his pants.
“Mmm,” she moaned appreciatively.
This was working better than he could have imagined.
Did Julian feel a little ridiculous? Yes.
Hell, he felt a lot ridiculous. But to make Petula forget her worries, he’d stand on his head and bray like a jackass if that’s what it took.
His buckle, once undone, hung heavily until he swept the entire length of leather clear of his belt loops, and sent it sailing toward his sneakers.
Now it was zipper time.
He began lowering it, and…
Shit.
Nooo.
Had he really worn the joke boxers his brother Vincent had given him for Christmas? Today, of all days? What had he been thinking? Julian wanted to scream. Clearly, he hadn’t been aware of exactly what he’d packed and grabbed.
Fuck. It was too late now.
Julian sighed.
If his cartoon undies made Petula laugh, he’d suck it up.
His jeans dropped, and…
A smothered giggle.
Julian narrowed his eyes at her, comically.
A chest heave.
A rocking of her shoulders she simply couldn’t hide.
“Okay fine. Read it. Say it out loud,” Julian groused, mortified but also amused.
“Let’s pitch a tent?” she quoted, her voice cracking up as she rocked on the bed in hysterics. “Oh, lord. Julian. A tent? That one you’re pitching looks like it could fit a whole platoon of Boy Scouts,” she chortled.
“It’s a troop,” Julian corrected with a fake-disgruntled huff. “Platoon is a military term.”
He liked that she was impressed with his size, but enough with the preliminaries. He needed this awkward interlude to be finished.
“Is it, uh, okay if I let the troops out?” he questioned.
Petula licked her lips. “More than okay.”
Julian shed the last of his clothing.
Well, almost.
He hadn’t quite thought this whole thing out, and still wore his socks.
Cripes. How geeky could he get?
Luckily it either didn’t seem to bother Petula, or she hadn’t noticed. She was too busy staring at his junk, her mouth partially open.
Mmm. Julian could imagine sliding his length into that warm cavity and…
Nope. If she kept looking at him like that, he was going to blow immediately.
“Lovely, Julian,” she told him breathlessly.
“Okay. Show’s over,” he stated gruffly. “Lights out time.”
Petula grinned up at him, then before he could switch them into darkness, she reached down to slowly and deliberately remove her socks.
The cheeky wench.
Julian groaned. “You noticed, huh?”
He’d had hopes that his package had distracted her.
“I did,” she teased. “But it’s okay Julian. If your feet are cold, you can leave your socks on.”