Chapter 21 #3
My mouth hangs open as I stare at him, the tender softness in his eyes making my heart pound with aching. Julian has spent his whole life keeping people away in order to protect himself. He has a loving family. He has amazing parents. He grew up in a good home.
If my suspicion is true, then his anxiety disorder has planted the seeds of this bitterness in his heart. What is he doing to help himself?
“Do you feel that way about us?” I ask.
His head flips up, and he stares into my eyes, warm blue inviting me in. It takes everything in me not to reach out, kiss him, and pull him close, but right now I just want him to talk. I don’t want this conversation to be derailed by kisses.
“No, I don’t,” he replies with conviction. “I think the thing that keeps throwing me off is that I don’t feel that way about you and Archer.”
“Maybe because you know that we won’t just leave you, that we like you for you.”
“I don’t know, maybe,” he says with uncertainty. “I’m not good at this stuff. I suck at relationships. I’ve never really even been in one. I like to be alone, but when I’m with you guys, it just feels like I’m alone with you.”
This time, I let my fingers do what they want, crawling up his arm, touching his neck, and pulling him closer.
“That’s because you’re comfortable with us.
We’re comfortable with each other,” I say.
His full, pink lips invite me, and I press mine to his just to savor his kiss.
He smiles against my mouth, winding his arms around my waist. The towel comes undone, and I don’t bother to fix it.
For a moment, I feel a bit self-conscious that my breasts are now exposed.
“Freya,” he says, pleading as he glances down at the space between us.
“Yeah?” I ask.
“Can you please come here?” He replies on a sigh. “I’m dying.”
A giggle escapes my lips. “You know, you’re pretty cute when you’re bashful.”
“For fuck’s sake. Just come here.” He groans, grabbing my hips and pulling me onto his lap. The towel falls away so my naked front is pressed against his clothes. His hands slide up my spine, digging into my messy bun as he pulls my face toward his. As our lips unite, he tugs me closer.
At the feel of his erection digging into me, my core moistens with arousal. I might very well make a mess of his jeans.
I bury my fingers in his hair, messing up the perfection of it. Julian comes off as all sharp angles and cruel edges, but he’s really soft and warm and pliable. His kisses are like honey, sweet and slow.
As my lips trail away from his mouth and down his jaw, my eyes catch on something purple peeking out from under his white T-shirt.
“Oh my God,” I shriek. “What is that?” Tearing down the neck of his shirt, I find a large blue and purple bite mark at the crevice between his shoulder and his neck. It looks fresh and painful.
He instantly clears his throat, touching his fingers to the spot. “That would be Archer,” he says before releasing the collar of his shirt from my fingers.
“He did that to you?” I ask.
“Well, I told him to,” he replies with a devilish smirk.
“Is this what you two did last night?”
“Yeah,” he says.
“Did you leave any marks on him?”
“Maybe a few bruises.”
“Is that…” My voice trails as I compose myself to ask this question. “Is that how you guys like it?”
He shifts in his seat, and I pull the towel back up to cover myself. “Not always, but I do think that’s why he came to me.”
“You don’t think he wants to be this rough with me?” I ask.
“No, not at all. I mean, do you want it that way?”
“I don’t know how I want it,” I reply with a laugh, hiding my self-consciousness. “I mean, I’ve never been bitten like that before.”
“Don’t get me wrong. It hurt like hell,” he says, “but that was the point. I wanted him to leave marks. I wanted it to hurt. I wanted the pain. But don’t you see, Freya, that’s what makes this work so well.”
I don’t know if I love the idea of being the gentle, fragile one, but I certainly don’t want teeth marks like that on my neck, at least not right away. But like I said, I don’t really know what I want, not yet. This is still so new.
“What else did you guys do?”
Julian’s cheeks turn a soft pink as he stifles a smile. “We fooled around a bit,” he says. “No sex. We drew the line there. For you.”
“Oh. Well, I guess that’s good.”
“Of course. Would have been weird having sex with each other. You clearly said you wanted to take things slow.”
“You know, I meant with me. You two could do whatever you want,” I say with a slight grimace.
“No,” he says with a shake of his head. “I think we all have to be in this together. We all need to take it at the same pace.”
“Okay,” I reply, a lazy smile pulling at my lips. I take Julian’s fingers in my hand, holding them gently as I stare at him. “So that means everything you did with him, you could do with me.”
He runs his fingers down my chest, between my breasts, and over my belly button. “To some degree, yes.”
Lifting his hips, he grinds himself against me, making me whimper. Then his fingers reach my clit, and I let my head hang back. His thumb draws tiny circles, warming my body up. It answers to his touch, arousal coursing down my spine.
“You’re stunning, Freya.”
My hips move of their own accord, grinding against the stiff length hidden behind his zipper. Lunging toward him, I grab his face and kiss his mouth, eating up his compliments. He kisses me back as he holds my hips down, increasing the pressure of his body against mine.
“You’re making a mess on my pants,” he mutters against my lips. “Don’t stop.”
I cry out in pleasure as my body lights up. There is just something about not going all the way that is so hot. This barrier, stopping us from what we really want, only makes it all better. The forbidden fruit tastes sweeter, or so they say.
His thumb is still working my clit as I grind against him. Out of nowhere, he lifts me up and tosses me down on the couch, keeping his body between my legs. Then he grinds me into the cushions as his mouth latches on to the sensitive skin of my neck.
“That feels so good,” I cry out as my legs wrap around his waist.
As his fingers slip farther between my legs, I tense. He moves his hard length against my thigh, and I’m torn between desire and apprehension. Then his middle finger slips inside me, and I melt for him. It’s not an invasion. It’s a union. Just one touch and I’m his.
“You are so fucking tight.”
My lips press closed as I try to focus on the pleasure.
“Oh God,” he groans, grinding harder against me.
“Don’t stop,” I moan. His hand picks up speed, his finger plunging, the heel of his hand pressed against my clit. It’s all so deliciously perfect and amazing, and I feel myself careening for the release. “I’m almost there,” I gasp.
The weight of Julian’s body and the movement of his hand and the feel of his fully clothed body against mine are enough to make every nerve ending in my body work toward one common goal.
When my orgasm hits me, I lose the ability to speak.
My body tenses, my spine curling, and I’m helpless against the power of the climax.
He collapses onto me, his ear pressed against my beating heart as I stare at his ceiling, letting my body sing its quiet postorgasmic song.