39 RHEA
Julian’s hands are everywhere, and I can’t decide which part of me he’s trying to claim first. My shirt’s halfway over my head, his fingers fumbling with the clasp of my bra like he’s solving a puzzle. I’m laughing, breathless, as I kick off my sneakers, my socks somehow already missing.
“You’re driving me fucking insane,” he mutters, his voice rough, his lips grazing my neck as he finally gets the damn bra undone. My hands are just as frantic, tugging at his shirt, the fabric bunching under my fingers.
“Oh, am I? You’re the one with the damn tactical maneuver zipper,” I shoot back, my fingers slipping on the pull of his jeans.
He grins, that cocky smirk that’s equal parts infuriating and irresistible. “Tactical maneuver zipper? That’s a new one.”
“Yeah, well, someone over-engineered these pants,” I say, finally getting the zipper down. His hands are already on the waistband of my jeans, yanking them down my hips as I step out of them, my balance wobbling.
“Careful,” he says, catching me by the waist before I topple over.
His hands are warm, calloused, and I swear I can feel every ridge of his fingertips against my skin.
“You’re the one who’s supposed to be careful,” I tease, my voice dropping as I press against him, my hands sliding under his shirt, feeling the taut muscle of his abdomen.
“Careful’s not really my style,” he says, pulling his shirt over his head in one swift motion. His chest is a map of scars and ink, and I can’t help but trace the lines with my fingers, my breath hitching as he leans down to kiss me, hard and urgent.
“Neither is mine,” I say against his lips, my fingers hooking into the waistband of his boxers.
He steps back, kicking them off, and I’m suddenly aware of how much taller he is, how much stronger, but there’s nothing intimidating about the way he looks at me—like I’m the only thing in the room that matters.
He lowers me onto the mat, his hands cradling my head, and I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer. His skin is hot against mine, and I can feel his heartbeat, wild and erratic, as he presses into me.
“Damnit,” he groans, his head dropping to my shoulder, and I can’t help but laugh, the sound breathy and uneven.
“You good?” I ask, my fingers threading through his hair.
He lifts his head, his blue eyes dark with want.
“Good doesn’t even begin to cover it.” His hips roll against mine, and I gasp, my nails digging into his back as every nerve in my body lights up.
His mouth finds mine again, and it’s all heat and urgency, the kind of kiss that leaves you dizzy and craving more.
“You’re…” he starts, his voice trailing off as he pulls back just enough to look at me.
“I’m what?” I ask, my hands sliding down to his hips, urging him deeper.
“You’re fucking perfection,” he says, his voice rough, and I can’t help but smile, even as the intensity of it all threatens to overwhelm me.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” I manage, my breath hitching as his pace quickens, the rhythm between us turning almost frantic.
“Not so bad?” he repeats, his grin wicked as he leans down, his lips brushing against my ear. “I’ll show you not so bad. But it needs to happen soon because I’m about to cum like a damn school boy with you humping me like that.
“Then fuck me Julian. Fuck me now.” I shoot back.
“God damnit,” he growls.
His hands grip my thighs, spreading me wider as he runs a finger through my folds. His lips brush against my ear. “Jesus, you’re wet.
You know exactly what you’re doing, don’t you, pretty girl?” His voice is low, rough, and it sends a shiver down my spine.
I laugh, breathless, my hands grabbing at his shoulders. “Do I?
Because I’m pretty sure you’re the one driving this show.” He grins, that cocky, knowing smirk that makes my stomach flip.
“Oh, I’m driving. But you’re the one keeping me on the road.” His fingers dig into my hips, pulling me closer, and I feel the raw intensity in every movement.
“Julian, please,” I start, but he cuts me off, his mouth on mine, his tongue demanding as he kisses me hard. My hands slide up his back, clawing at his muscles as he shifts, bending my legs back until they’re almost behind my head.
“Look at you being all flexible,” he whispers, his breath tickling my skin as he takes a nipple in his mouth. His hands tighten on my thighs, and I can sense the weight of him, the strength, as he positions himself.
“Tell me if it’s too much,” he says, his voice steady but laced with something darker, something that makes my heart race.
I nod, my breath catching as he pushes into me, slow at first, then deeper, harder, until I’m gasping, my nails digging into his shoulders. “Julian,” I whisper, my voice shaking, and he smirks, his hips rolling against mine.
“Goddamnit you’re tight. I’m not going to last long in this tight little pussy.”
“Then fuck me, so we can go again.” He laughs. “That’s it, greedy girl,” he growls, his pace quickening, his eyes locked on mine. “Take what’s yours.”
“It’s yours. Fuck it’s yours.” I say, my mind seeming to have bypassed my filter.
He stalls briefly. The look in his eyes is indescrible. “Baby, you might regret saying that, you’ve given me permission to wear you the fuck out.” He drops one of my legs, giving himself more leverage as he pounds in to me. Thank god for the fucking mat underneath me.
“Julian, oh fuck.” I gasp again, my back arching as the pleasure builds, sharp and intense. I can feel it coiling in my stomach, threatening to overflow, and I cling to him, my fingers tangling in his hair.
“You look so good wrapped around my dick.” He grunts, sweat dripping down his brow.
“Julian, fuck I can’t…” I’m out of body right now.
“Yes the fuck you can Rhea. Scream, wake them the fuck up.” He demands, his voice rough, his hands holding me in place as he drives into me, each thrust sending heat spiraling through my body.
“Let them know who’s owning your pussy right now. Come for me.”
I do. My voice breaks as I come apart, the sound raw and unfiltered, and I can feel him trembling above me, his breath ragged as he follows me over the edge.
His name slips from my lips, a broken whisper, and he collapses against me, his weight heavy but comforting.
“Fuck,” he groans, his lips brushing against my neck as he catches his breath.
“You’re going to be the death of me.” I laugh, shaky and breathless, my fingers trailing lazily down his back.
“You’re the one who told me to scream.” He grins, lifting his head to look at me, his blue eyes dark and satisfied.
“And you listened. Good girl.” He presses a soft kiss to my lips, lingering for a moment before pulling back.
“But next time, you better make sure it’s my name.”