Chapter 13
THIRTEEN
JULIETTE
Aaron Bishop is as big of a liar as I am.
And if he keeps looking down at me like this, I’m going to climax before his dick is even inside me.
It’s big.
Impossible not to notice the thick bulge in his boxers as he leans over me, this time with no hesitation.
His hands slide to my back, fingers finding the clasp of my bra with surprising ease.
A quiet pop. One smooth motion. He doesn’t rush it.
He draws the straps down my arms slowly, deliberately, like he wants to see every second of it—like he wants to watch me react.
Of course, I let him.
My bra hits the floor.
His gaze drags over me, unhurried. One hand settles at my hip, thumb brushing idle circles against my skin before his fingertips skim higher, barely grazing the underside of my breast.
My back arches automatically into his hand, and I hate how easily he’s undoing me.
“So pretty,” he tells me a second time, cupping one of them. “I can’t wait to bury my face in these.”
I cover my face with one hand. “Don’t say that.”
“Why not?” He leans down and flicks his tongue over my nipple. Sucks. “I’m already so hard, these are making it worse.”
My face is on fire.
Body a blazing inferno.
Every touch feels amplified. Charged. His mouth takes its sweet, delicious time, and I forget how to breathe, my lungs fighting for air.
Then—
“What would your brother say,” he asks casually, voice rough against my skin, “if he saw you naked in my bed?”
I scowl, even as a laugh slips out. “Why would you bring him into the conversation? Talk about a buzz kill.”
His mouth curves against my skin like he enjoys the reaction almost as much as he enjoys touching me. He shifts his weight, one hand sliding to cup my other breast, thumb brushing slowly, deliberately, as if he’s testing how sensitive I’ve become.
Which is unfair.
Because I’ve become very sensitive.
I shiver when his palm tightens and his mouth closes around me, warm and slow, and I tug lightly at his hair without meaning to. He makes a low sound at that—pleased—and the vibration shoots straight through me.
“Feels naughty keeping so many secrets, doesn’t it?” he murmurs against my skin.
The words should make me pause.
Instead, they make my stomach flip.
I nod, breath hitching. “What I do is none of his business.”
Aaron hums low in approval, a sound that vibrates straight through me. “Goddamn right it’s not.”
His mouth drifts lower, slower now, like he’s savoring me. He is in no rush. Every inch he covers feels intentional, worshipful almost, and I have to swallow back the little sounds threatening to escape.
My hands slide down his shoulders, over the hard, sculpted line of his back. He’s solid beneath my palms—heat and muscle and tension coiled tight. A spring waiting to snap. I can feel how much he wants me in the way he holds himself, in the careful restraint threaded through every touch.
I arch instinctively when his lips find the sensitive spot below my collarbone. He lingers there, teeth grazing lightly—enough that my breath stutters—before soothing the sting with a slow, open-mouthed kiss.
“Juliette?”
“Mmm?”
“You’re on birth control, yeah?” he asks so matter-of-factly that the directness of the question sobers me.
“Honestly? No, I…”
I haven’t been in a relationship in a long time, and Preston was new. I have no interest in putting my body through all those changes unless I have a damn good reason to.
Or a commitment.
I shake my head.
No.
Aaron’s nostrils flare, eyes alive with arousal. “I’ve got you—there are condoms in the nightstand. We’re covered.”
Uh-huh. Of course there are.
The practicality of all this unnerves me. As if he does this often, meanwhile, my thighs are already shaking and we haven’t even… you know. And now we’re talking about safe sex and condoms while I quiver on his mattress.
Who am I?
Aaron is steady and strong and unbearably sexy—at least, to me anyway.
He reaches toward me again, gently brushing his thumb along my jawline. “We’re not doing anything stupid. Let’s save the risks for later, eh?”
Hands roam: down my sides, over my ribs, spanning my waist. I feel small beneath him.
Petite.
Fragile.
We’re both bare now, skin against skin, and the heat of him is almost overwhelming. I can feel every inch of him pressed to me, hard and heavy, but still, he…
Does.
Not.
Rush.
His mouth trails down my throat, over my collarbone, following the curve of my chest. He pauses to press a slow kiss between my breasts, then lower, dragging his lips over the flat of my stomach. His hands slide beneath my thighs, urging them wider without a word.
I inhale sharply.
“Aaron…” My voice sounds wrecked already.
He glances up at me from between my legs, eyes dark.
My breath turns shallow as he leans in, his mouth brushing closer—slow enough to make me ache with anticipation. He presses a soft kiss to the sensitive skin high on my thigh first, then another, working his way inward with maddening patience.
“I’m going to get you close to coming—and then I’m going to fuck you.”
I have no idea what to say to that.
I nod, completely unable to speak.
My fingers tighten in the sheets instead, thighs trembling as he drags his hands up the backs of them, urging me open. He looks up at me once more, holding my gaze as if he wants to see the exact second I surrender.
And I do.
My head tips back, breath catching when his mouth finally lowers again, mouth on my pussy, all the buildup and anticipation giving way to sensation.
Every nerve in my body sizzles.
Aaron’s tongue flattens against me, licking my core as he sucks, my hand tangling into his hair—not to guide him or hold him steady, but because the pleasure is almost too much to bear, building in a steady wave…
If he isn’t careful, he’ll come, and we won’t have the chance to—
My hips lift instinctively, chasing the sensation, and he answers with a low sound of approval that vibrates straight through me.
He looks up at me again.
Smiles into my thigh.
Wipes his mouth on my skin before he pulls away, dragging himself up my body like he’s in no rush to get there. He presses slow kisses to my stomach, my ribs, the underside of my breasts, his mouth warm and commanding as it moves.
Licks a nipple, his erection hard between my legs, brushing against the apex of my thighs.
My body reacts instantly, hips tipping forward, wanting more.
“You’re so fucking pretty,” he murmurs against my neck. “Like a fucking angel.”
He’s told me I’m pretty before, but the way he’s saying it now feels different, as if my hair and bows and pale skin are the sexiest thing he’s ever seen, and he’s as excited to slide inside me as I am to invite him in.
My heart pounds.
He’s speaking as if I’m his fantasy.
My legs fall open without hesitation, inviting him closer, needing him closer. There’s nothing coy about it. No pretending. I want him. I want the weight of him, the stretch of him, the connection of it.
Aaron drops his head into my neck, breathing hard, his control slipping.
He exhales and reaches to the side, arm stretching toward the bedside table. The drawer sticks for half a second before he yanks it open, rummaging without breaking eye contact.
Tears the condom packet open, using his teeth—something I’ve only seen done in the movies—foil crinkling in the quiet room.
I watch as he leans back on his haunches to slide it over his cock, down the shaft. Then he moves back over me, the mattress dipping beneath his weight, caging me in again, broad shoulders bracketing my body, his warmth covering mine.
Aaron kisses my neck.
Teeth graze lightly beneath my ear before he soothes the spot with his tongue…
I have never been so aware of my own body.
Breathlessly, I wait for him to line himself up, gripping his own dick and teasing me with the tip of it, dragging it back and forth slowly.
Oh god…
I gasp when he inches forward.
The first press of him makes my back arch, a startled, needy sound escaping my throat before I can swallow it down. He stills immediately, forehead dropping to mine, breathing hard.
“Easy,” he murmurs, voice strained but controlled.
My hands slide up into his hair, anchoring him there. I don’t want easy. I want this. I want him.
“I’m okay,” I whisper, though I’m trembling.
He moves again—slow, careful, watching my face like it matters more than anything. The stretch, the fullness, the heat—it steals the air from my lungs. It’s intense. Almost overwhelming.
And thrilling.
My nails drag down his back as he sinks deeper, inch by deliberate inch, until he’s fully pressed against me, both of us frozen for a second like the world has tilted on its axis.
Aaron exhales a low, almost disbelieving sound into my mouth.
“Holy fuck you feel good…” he groans. “So fucking good.”
The rawness in his voice sends another rush of heat through me. It’s not just physical—it’s the way he sounds undone. Like he wasn’t prepared for this either.
I tighten around him instinctively, and his reaction is immediate—his jaw clenching, breath catching.
“Do that again and I’ll come,” he warns.
A smile tugs at my lips despite how breathless I am.
He starts to move then, slow at first, testing, learning the rhythm of us. Every shift of his hips sends a ripple through my body, my head falling back into the pillow as sensation builds again—different from before.
Deeper.
It steals the air from my lungs.
This isn’t only pleasure—it’s consuming. Every slow thrust feels amplified, like my body is lit from the inside out. I hadn’t expected it to be this intense. Hadn’t expected to feel so completely full of him, so aware of every shift, every drag, every controlled inhale he takes above me.
My fingers curl into his shoulders.
He wasn’t prepared for this either.
I can see it in his face—the crease between his thick brows, the way his eyes darken to black, confused like he’s trying to understand what’s happening inside his own body.
“Look at me.” His voice is gravelly when he whispers to me.
I shyly glance up at his face, into an expression that isn’t just displaying arousal.
It’s awe—as if he’s stumbled onto something he wasn’t prepared for. Which makes two of us. But he’s had sex before; surely this is nothing different?
Why is he looking at me like this?
“You feel that too, right?”
I mean. Of course I feel him—he’s buried to the hilt inside of me.
When I move, raking my nails over his spine, he inhales, eyes squeezing shut. The muscle in his neck flexes, and I want to kiss the pulse I see beating there.
I move again, and he lowers his lips to my hair.
“Jesus, Juliette.” He rasps out my name and it’s like a drug. The power is intoxicating; hearing my name on his lips in the throes of this moment is… it’s…
Heat floods my face when he moans, “Fuck, you’re so fucking wet.”
Another slow thrust and he’s moving again, kissing my temple. The corner of my lips, murmuring, cords in his biceps straining. Flexing as he pumps in and out.
I moan, too, hands roaming his backside.
Fingers pressing into his ass.
I didn’t think it could get more intense, but I was wrong.
“God, I want you on top,” he moans into my nape, and I’m suddenly aware that perspiration dampens my hair. “I want to watch your tits.”
He moves, rolling to his back. One second, I’m pressed into the mattress, the next I’m riding him, still joined, still full of him—his hands go to my waist before migrating up, teasing the underside of my breasts.
I gasp at the new angle.
He does too. “Fuck me, Juliette.”
I swallow and lean forward experimentally, lifting off him, letting him slide almost out, before sinking back onto the tip.
His head sinks into the pillow.
“Don’t tease me,” he grinds out through gritted teeth. “Please, don’t tease me.”
But now that’s all I want to do.
I roll my hips as slowly as I can, finding a rhythm that makes his jaw clench and his abs flex beneath me.
I can feel every inch of him from this angle.
The stretch. The drag.
His hands palm my breasts, thumbs grazing over hardened peaks, eyes locked on the way my body moves with his.
“Look at you,” he whispers. “I knew you’d look like this naked.”
I look down into his eyes. “You’ve pictured me naked?”
Aaron gives a jerky nod. “Of course I have. Who wouldn’t take one look at those prissy ribbons in your hair and not imagine you tying them up then sucking his cock?”
My lips part.
Oh…
Is that what he sees when he looks at my braids?
Heat pools low in my stomach at the way he’s watching me ride him—like I’m something he’s been imagining and can’t believe he gets to touch.
“You’re not as innocent as you pretend,” he says as his thumbs brush over my nipples, gently pinching them and causing my head to roll back.
“I’m not pretending,” I whisper breathlessly, hands going to the headboard.
Mostly.
The last time I was out with a man like Aaron, I was in college and my brother tried beating the crap out of the dude because he invited me to a threesome.
And Preston was an office geek.
Aaron looks like a demigod.
Feels like one, too.
He uses his core to lean up, arm banding around my waist to anchor me while his tongue drags over one nipple, then the other, as I rock back and forth against him.
The friction causes me to see stars…
Aaron has his eyes squeezed shut again.
Moans leave his throat.
Loud grunts.
Hand braced on the back of my neck, pulling me into him so he can kiss me, the moaning getting louder as he frantically fucks me, the nerves in my body tingling, even more so at the sound of the headboard banging against the wall.
Thump, thump, thump, to the rhythm of our fucking.
He’s so deep…
So deep…
So…
“Fuck,” he rasps. “I’m gonna come.”
The sensation crests all at once, his orgasm hitting at the same time as mine, and my mouth opens against his at the sheer pleasure ricocheting through my body as his writhes with spasms, his large hands gripping me.
For a second, there’s nothing but the sound of both of us breathing too hard.
The headboard stills.
The room is quiet except for the ragged drag of air into lungs.
He keeps his forehead pressed to mine, eyes closed, chest heaving. His hands don’t move right away. But then, Aaron pulls me closer, arms wrapping around me as his breathing begins to even out.
“That wasn’t…” He clears his throat. “Supposed to be like that.”
I don’t know what that means. “Supposed to be like what?”
His head shakes. “Nothing.”