Chapter 17 Julian #2
"Vivienne," I murmured against her mouth, my gloved hands finding the hem of her sweater. "I need..."
"Yes," she breathed, understanding immediately. "Yes, whatever you need."
I lifted her easily, carrying her up the stairs to her bedroom with the same desperate hunger I'd felt our first night together. But this was different—deeper, more necessary. This wasn't just desire, it was claiming, confirming, sealing the decision we'd just made with our bodies.
I set her down beside the bed, my hands working at her clothes with barely controlled movements. The blue sweater hit the floor, followed by her jeans, until she stood before me in simple cotton underwear that was somehow more erotic than the most expensive lingerie.
"So beautiful," I murmured, my gloved hands skimming over her curves, reacquainting myself with every dip and swell. "Mine."
"Yours," Vivienne agreed, her own hands working on my jacket, my shirt, mapping the lean muscle I kept toned in the gym.
When we tumbled onto the bed together, I took my time despite the urgency thrumming through my veins.
I kissed every inch of skin I exposed, used my mouth and my gloved hands to suck and stroke her stomach, her chest, before removing her bra and worshiping her large breasts.
I came up for a kiss, even as my fingers rolled one of her nipples, and the other braced my weight over her.
I kissed down her neck, to her collarbone, before kissing my way to her breast. Once there, I hungrily sucked one of her nipples into my mouth, tonguing her hardened nub before sucking harder and trying to pull as much of her breast into my mouth as I could.
She was moaning and writhing beneath me even as I moved to give her other breast the same attention as the first. I worked my way down, kissing the soft flesh of her stomach towards her center. I lifted up to remove the last barrier, and once her dripping pussy was revealed, I couldn’t help myself.
I spread her legs even as she let out a little yelp of surprise, and dove in, first with long licks, just to provide a little stimulation and get her juices on my tongue, before going for more. My tongue entered her, exploring her drenched core to gather all her juices on my tongue.
Once I sucked up all her honeyed liquid, I nosed my way up and started giving her clit the attention it needed to have her dripping once again.
I sucked two fingers into my mouth, getting them nice and wet and brought them to her center.
I got them in up to the second knuckle, and instead of ramming into her like men usually did, I slowly curved them up, putting pressure on a sensitive spot just inside her as I continued to strum her clit with my tongue.
Before long she was writhing and trying to get my fingers inside of her to move.
"Julian, please," Vivienne gasped, her nails digging into my shoulders. "I need you."
"Tell me," I commanded, my voice rough with want. "Tell me what you need."
"You," she said without hesitation. "All of you. Now."
I reached for the condom I'd placed on her nightstand, my movements quick but trembling with need. I tore it open and rolled it on with shaking hands that only made Vivienne ache more for me—because this time, it wasn't just sex. It was survival. Reclamation. Proof that we were still here.
Our eyes locked as I settled between her slippery thighs. The head of my cock pressed against her, thick and throbbing, and she gasped as I eased inside her wet channel—slow, unrelenting, until I was seated fully within her.
We both froze.
My jaw clenched as I struggled for control, my hands fisting the sheets on either side of her head. I was big—she was still so tight around me—and the feeling of being wrapped in her heat, surrounded by her, nearly unraveled me.
"Okay?" I rasped, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek, my gloved hand trembling ever so slightly.
Vivienne lifted her hips in answer, her legs sliding up to cradle my waist. "Perfect," she whispered. "Move, Julian. Please."
I obeyed.
Each thrust started slow, deliberate—long, gliding strokes that let us feel every inch of each other, every shift, every drag. Her slickness welcomed me back again and again, and the sound of our bodies colliding and separating only to continue again and again filled the space between us.
She clung to me, hands gripping my back, nails scraping lightly down my shoulders. "Don't hold back," she breathed. "Not with me."
That broke something in me.
I surged forward, my hips snapping harder into hers, the rhythm deepening with every stroke. Her moans grew louder, throatier, until she was panting beneath me, her body trembling as I filled her again and again.
"You feel like heaven," I groaned, pressing kisses down her jaw, her throat, her collarbone. "Like everything I didn't know I was missing."
Vivienne arched under me, her breasts pressing against my chest, her voice breaking as she cried out, "Julian—God—don't stop, don't you dare stop—"
I fucked her harder then, angling my hips until I found the exact spot that made her sob, made her nails dig into my skin like she was afraid I might disappear.
"You're mine," I growled against her skin. "Mine, Vivienne."
"Yes," she cried, breath hitching. "Yours—always yours—"
I reached between us, my gloved fingers strumming her clit in tight, relentless strokes, and that was all it took. Her body seized beneath me, a cry tearing from her throat as she came apart, her walls clenching around me like a vice.
The moment after she shattered, I followed—my release crashing through me with a groan that was part worship, part surrender. I pulsed inside her in slow, grounding waves, anchoring myself in her body, in the way she held me through it.
Afterward, I didn't move. I stayed inside her, lowering my weight onto my elbows, pressing our foreheads together as our ragged breaths filled the silence.
"I thought this would push you away," I murmured. "And it nearly broke me."
Vivienne cupped my jaw, guiding my gaze to hers. “It didn't. I'm right here. We're both still here."
I kissed her—slow, tender, reverent—and then again, like I needed to memorize the shape of her mouth. When I finally withdrew, I did so gently, leaving her with a soft moan and a warmth that lingered long after.
I slipped into the bathroom to discard the condom, but when I returned, it wasn't just to crawl back into bed—it was to wrap her in my arms like she was the only thing that mattered in the world.
We lay together afterward, breathing hard, hearts racing in tandem. I pulled her against my side, marveling at how perfectly she fit there, how right this felt despite the chaos surrounding us.
"Julian?" Vivienne's voice was soft, hesitant.
"Yeah?"
"Can I ask you something?"
"Anything."
She was quiet for a moment, then: "Why do you always wear gloves?"
I felt my entire body tense. It was a question I'd been dreading and expecting in equal measure, one that went to the heart of who I was and why I'd built my life the way I had.
"It's complicated," I said finally.
"Most important things are." Vivienne's fingers traced patterns on my chest, her touch soothing despite the difficult territory we were entering. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. But I've noticed that you never take them off. Even when we're... intimate."
I was quiet for a long time, wrestling with how much to reveal, how much truth she could handle. But looking down at her, at the trust in her eyes, I realized she deserved honesty.
"I had to make some hard decisions when I was younger," I said carefully. "Decisions that changed me. The gloves... they're a reminder. And a form of control."
"What kind of decisions?"
I closed my eyes, the memories rising unbidden. My father's drunken rages, my mother's bruises that she always explained away. The day I'd come home early from school to find my father forcing himself on my mother while she begged him to stop, her desperate cries of ‘please’ falling on deaf ears.
"My father was an abuser," I said quietly. "He hurt my mother, hurt me. I thought I understood what was happening, but I was wrong. I was protecting her the wrong way."
Vivienne's hand stilled on my chest, but she didn't pull away. "Julian..."
"One day I came home early and saw what was really happening. My mother was begging him to stop, saying 'please' over and over, but he wouldn't listen. He never listened." My jaw tightened. "So I made him stop. Permanently."
The silence that followed was heavy with implication. Vivienne didn't ask for details, didn't press for specifics. She just held me closer, offering comfort without judgment.
"The police called it self-defense, defense of others," I continued. "I was a minor, and the evidence of abuse was overwhelming. But my mother's words haunted me—the way she begged for mercy and never received it.
"The way I made him beg, and never gave him that mercy either.
" The words tumbled out, things I'd never shared coming to light.
"I was just like him in those final moments, and I relished in it.
In denying him his cries for mercy just like he denied my mother hers.
Afterwards, I knew that I never wanted to be like him again. "
"Is that why consent is so important to you?" Vivienne asked softly.
I nodded. "I never want to be the person who ignores someone's wishes. The gloves remind me to stay in control, to never take more than what's freely given."
Vivienne was quiet for a moment, processing what I'd shared. "That's why you don't like what's happening with the photo. I didn't consent to having my privacy invaded."
"Exactly." My arms tightened around her. "You had no control over that image being used, over your name being spread around on gossip sites. It goes against everything I believe about respecting someone's choices."