Chapter 33
“Hi, Sage,” I say, collecting my folders as she stops in front of my desk. “Thank you for coming to class today.”
Today was her second class.
During the first one, she hadn’t said a word or volunteered one answer.
Today, she answered one question.
Progress is progress .
She trails her fingers over the desk, her brown bangs falling in front of her eyes. “I saw you on the news.” She doesn’t look up. “A story about your father.”
I’m getting better at dealing with comments about him.
Improving on not suddenly feeling this intense anxiety.
What my father did will haunt me for the rest of my life.
I stand, shoving my folder into my bag, and not knowing what to say, I stay quiet. Unlike with the teens who came barreling into my classroom, talking shit, her situation is different.
We don’t have a relationship where I can tell her to cool it.
Attending my classes is optional for her, not mandatory, like with the children.
“My dad is dead too,” she says, finally looking up at me and blowing the bangs away from her face.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, my voice soft as I try to control my emotions. “I know it’s hard.”
I don’t want to talk about losing my father on the day of his funeral.
It’s why I came here.
But I don’t want to blow her off.
According to Lora, Sage still refuses to talk with a shelter therapist and isolates herself from the other women. She plays Go Fish with the children sometimes, but that’s the only time she speaks.
No one knows why she’s here, who she is, or where she came from. There are no physical signs of abuse that we can see, but that doesn’t always mean anything. Abuse isn’t only scars and bruises. Many people suffer severe mental and emotional abuse here as well.
Sage is one big mystery, but sooner or later, she’ll have to answer questions. Therapy and a psych evaluation are mandatory at the shelter. They need to know who they’re housing.
“Did he pass away recently?” I ask her.
She retreats a few steps, and I fully expect her to leave. Surprising me, she grabs a chair from the front row and jerks it away from the desk. It scrapes across the floor, making a loud screeching sound that hurts my ears.
I watch, eyes wide, as she sits beside me.
“About a month ago.” She suddenly flicks her attention to the doorway, as if someone were watching.
I peek a glance, making sure it’s not Julian.
The man loves to sneak into my class.
There’s no one.
She runs her hand over her floral tank. “He killed himself.”
“Is that why you’re here?” I ask, softening my voice. “You have nowhere else to go? No family?”
She plays with her hands on the desk. “My mother is still alive. She and my father were never married, and then she married my stepfather when I was eight. I have a younger sister.”
“You can’t stay with them?”
“They kicked me out.” Her attention slips to her chipped nails, and she bites at them. “She said since I was twenty, they didn’t owe me anything. My stepfather handed me a hundred dollars and told me to get started on living my ‘adult life.’” She says the last two words in air quotes.
“You came to the right place, Sage,” I say, resting my hand on her shoulder.
“Safe Hearts will help you every step of the way in moving into your adult life .” I don’t use air quotes.
“Please talk to our therapist and tell Lora your situation. They’ll help you find a job, get on your feet, and find you a program for housing assistance.
And anytime I’m here, feel free to come to me.
I’m always here to talk about anything .
It doesn’t even have to be serious all the time. ”
“Thank you,” she whispers, a tear falling down her cheek before she slowly lifts her gaze back to mine. “I’m glad I came to your class today.”
I smile at her. “I’m glad you did too.”
It’s been a rough week, but I’ve made it.
I’ve made it because of the people I have around me.
Julian has cut his time at the casino in half. When I talked to Pippa, she mentioned Damien and Antonio weren’t happy about it. I bite my lip, holding back from telling her that maybe it was Julian’s time for happiness.
He’s always fought for other people’s relationships and safety. It’s time he does the same for himself.
As usual, a vase of peonies is on the nightstand when I wake up.
Sometimes there’s a note to go with them, but it’s not always consistent.
Today, there is one.
I’m taking you out tonight. Don’t wear black.
His notes are always short and straight to the point.
Never longer than a few sentences.
Opening my nightstand drawer, I grab the pile of his other notes I’ve saved and flip through them.
Order something nice for yourself on your card.
I ordered a new pair of heels.
Will be home late. Sleep naked, pls.
That night, he woke me up, and we pretty much had sex for three hours straight.
You look gorgeous when you sleep. Don’t think that’s creepy.
I laugh because, a few times, I’ve caught him staring when I wake up in the middle of the night and tell him the creep-meter is firing off at a ten.
I smile wide, the biggest smirk of my life, when I hit my favorite note.
I can’t wait to put a baby in you tonight.
Unless he’s the best actor in the world, Julian is falling for me.
I’m sure of it.
I, Genesis Astor, will make history as the one woman who was able to steal Julian Bellini’s heart.
It’ll be a victory for all of us women who want to tame the bad boys.
Julian refuses to tell me where we’re going.
Because of that, I almost wear black.
But since I’m one to always honor dress codes, I don’t.
The last thing I want to do is attend someone’s event, not on theme.
I’m in our closet—yes, it’s our closet now since Julian grabbed all my stuff one day and moved it in here, like he had with my shower stuff—when Julian walks in.
He stops in step, his deep eyes darkening as they travel down my body, and he licks his lips. I squeeze my thighs together, a zing of excitement rushing through me.
His movements are so fluid as he drops his suit jacket on the floor and advances toward me like a man on a mission. I don’t even have a chance to ask questions before he drops to his knees in front of me. He slides my panties down my legs in seconds and drapes my leg over his shoulder.
In true Julian fashion, he doesn’t say a word as he presses his face against my pussy. I moan his name. I lower one hand to his hair, pulling at the roots when he makes the first lick down my slit.
My other hand moves to his shoulder, and I dig my fingers into his shirt while he spreads me deeper to thrust two fingers inside me.
“So damn delicious,” he says, staring up at me. “I wish I could have this pussy for every meal of my life.”
“You can,” I breathe out.
He slaps my pussy. “That’s right.” Another lick . “Because I own it.”
When I shudder, he covers my entire pussy with his mouth.
I run my fingers through his hair, relaxing myself, and rest my back against the wall. I’m growing addicted to how it feels with him there.
The scrape of his facial hair on my thighs.
It’s rough, but it feels so damn good.
How it feels when he places kisses on my skin, softer than what you’d imagine from a man like him.
The way he’ll take short breaks, run his hands up my thighs, and praise me when I’m close, but he isn’t finished with me yet. He loves to torture me with his tongue.
He moans my name between flicks of his tongue before sucking gently on my clit.
“Sooo good,” I moan.
“So mine,” he says, circling his tongue around my clit and then making a sweep so deep down my pussy that I swear it’s close to my ass.
Julian loves eating me out.
He doesn’t do it to go through the motions before sex.
Some nights, when I’m tired, he’ll eat me out until I fall asleep, never expecting anything in return.
My muscles twitch, my spine tingling, and pressure builds inside my body.
I’m shaking.
“Yes, give me that orgasm,” Julian groans, licking me three more times. “Drip your pussy juice all over my face. Drown me with it. I want to taste it on my lips and tongue for the rest of the fucking night.”
And that does it .
I forget every thought in my head as waves of warmth and pleasure flow through my veins. My pussy pulsates against his fingers, and as my orgasm shatters through, he harshly plunges three fingers inside me, fingering me fast.
When I’m done coming down from my Julian-induced high, I realize he’s literally holding me up because my shaking legs are useless. He waits until I’m stable, giving me time to catch my breath, before inching back a step.
“All right, get dressed.” He kisses my forehead, grabs my panties, and helps me put them back on. “We don’t want to be late.”
I place my hand on my chest, still fighting for breaths. “That was so fucking hot.”
“Hot for you. Fucking delicious for me.” He collects my juices from his wet lips, sucks on his fingers, and winks at me.
I watch him as he strips out of his clothes and quickly changes before I can return the favor. He’s attentive, helping me with my shoes, before we walk downstairs.
If he’s not falling in love with me, I’m so screwed.
Because I’m already there.
I’m so in love with this man that I’m ready to hand him my heart.
I hope he doesn’t give it back to me broken.
When we’re finally in the car, I peer over at Julian while buckling my seat belt. “Will you tell me where we’re going now?”
He adjusts the rearview mirror while backing out of the garage. “To get married.”
“Har har, funny,” I grumble.
He shifts to look over at me. “Don’t believe me?”
I shake my head, laughing. “I absolutely do not believe you.”
A smirk spreads across his face, and he makes a show of locking my door. “By the end of the night, you’ll be Mrs. Bellini.”