Chapter Twenty-Four
Marcel
I slide her panties down that perfect body, kissing her belly as I do. I am barreling headlong into something terrifying and I don’t care. All I want is Juliet.
As soon as I have her underwear off, I lift Juliet up into my arms and carry her to the small ensuite bathroom. While still holding her, I turn on the hot water as she wiggles and launches her protest.
“You don't have to carry me,” she scolds and I hold on tighter.
“Yes I do, you're tired and I like the way you feel in my arms.” I kiss her to pass the time while we wait for the water to warm up.
When it's the proper temperature I step in and only then do I set Juliet on her feet. She's only standing upright long enough for me to press her against the wall making sure she can feel my hard length between our bodies.
“You drive me mad,” I confess. “I am consumed with thoughts of you and right now all I want to do is become a part of you in every single way you'll allow me.”
“Oh my,” she gasps. “You really do go all in don't you.” She giggles as I nuzzle my nose and lips into her soft neck.
“I'm ready to be all in now,” I whisper hotly against her ear and I feel a shiver run through her body.
“Yes.” She barely breathes.
It's all the encouragement I need. I trace my fingers along her perfect shape making sure to circle the pale pink areola until it tightens into a sweet rosebud perfect for my mouth.
I suck on her deliciously soft skin and trill my tongue along the sharpened peak until she is wiggling and moaning beneath me.
“Marcel, I can’t wait. I want you.” She tugs gently on my stone hard cock fitting it to her center and usually I like to get a woman warmed up before I go in but I find myself sliding into her slick wetness.
She’s fucking heaven, Christmas day, and angels singing in a choir.
She's every single amazing thing squeezing my cock deliciously warm.
Her all-encompassing essence fills every part of me.
Before I know it I'm kissing those soft plump lips and pressing myself into her deeper as I lift her leg to circle my hip and start thrusting with reckless abandon because all I can do now is fuck her.
I'm sure she wanted something a little more sensual but all I can do is rut and thrust like an animal possessed.
“More,” she whimpers in my ear and I oblige.
I think because of the stress and the potential days, weeks, months, and years I might have had to spend without her, I erupt with desire.
I cannot still myself and I am an absolute mess, kissing her neck, her other breast—the one I'd left unattended, her collarbone, then returning to her mouth, all while fucking like a demon.
She's mewling and making noises I've never heard.
They are a cross between a gasp and a scream.
I taste her and she's mint and chocolate, cinnamon, and Christmas.
I feel like I'm about to become a puddle of nothing on the floor just to worship at her feet.
I need to feel her orgasm. I want to see her euphoric face, so I pinch, pull, and diddle her clit, pressing it against her pelvis bone until she is writhing on my cock. She squeezes me and I push in deeper until I am a part of her. Here is where I want to stay for all eternity.
“Come for me,” I whisper as I’m losing myself inside of her sanctuary. “Come again, and again.”
I angle my cock to hit her G-spot, the one I know makes her flinch with sensation and I press into it with tiny pulses up and down in a feverish pace until she comes, this time her whole body trembles and I unleash a torrent.
One thing about Juliet being pregnant that delights me is the fact that I can try and impregnate her over and over again with no consequence.
We are already in play. And if by some small chance she wasn’t pregnant, well, we have plenty more chances to try because, in that moment, I realize all I want is our baby and a family.
Insta-love, love at first sight, love in the sky, enemies to lovers, the Grinch, and his girl, I don’t care what you call us; we are.
I come so hard I see stars yet it still doesn’t stop me.
“Marry me,” I blurt out in a euphoric lapse of sanity. “No one will ever be you. Marry me,” I say frantically before I can take it back.
My breaths are heavy and deep and with each one I can feel her breasts rising and falling with her heartbeat thrumming against my chest. I’m still in her, still a part of her, and I’m ready to take her again as she stares at me in shock.
“What are you saying?” she breathes.
“I’m telling you that there will never be another Juliet in my life and no one, no single soul will ever be Juliet enough.
Marry me. I can give you the world. I don’t care where we live or how we work things out, but I want to wake up to your deep steady breaths.
I need to explore you, understand you, witness every expression you make.
You are my muse and the magic that makes getting out of bed in the morning worth the effort.
Money, power, prestige—none of it will hold the same sparkle now that I know you. Please say yes.
Sincerely what is wrong with me? I do not make rash decisions and I absolutely do not make marriage proposals naked in the shower with my cock in a woman. Somehow I have lost a little of my balance and Juliet understands this.
Putting her slender fingers on my cheek she kisses my lips tenderly and rubs her nose against mine in a sweet little elfish manner.
“I love that you asked,” she says, “and I'm not saying no, but I think you and I need to take this a little slower.
I would love to be your wife; however I'm still in college.
You and I have known each other for just two weeks and I'm pregnant.
We still haven't resolved if that's something you're happy about or not.
I want to marry Marcel Dubois not because he's a billionaire, not because he's successful, and not because he’s the sexiest man alive.
I want to marry Marcel Dubois because he gets along with my gran, he's funny, and he's reckless enough to make marriage proposals in the shower.
Let's see how we do and if at this time next year you absolutely feel as committed to the idea of marriage as you are right now, I will say yes to you.”
“A year?” My heart falls at the thought of having to wait so long to make Juliet a permanent part of my life.
“Yes, by then our baby will be here and the stress of being a parent will be in full swing.
I'll have graduated from CIAS and I'll be ready to make decisions about where my life is going, and you'll know better where yours is.
If we are still aligned and still in love, I will get married next year around Christmas time.
Until then, I'm not saying we separate or end this, I'm saying let's invest in one another so that we know who we really are to each other.”
She's so fucking sensible. In a romance novel or some fantasy tale she'd say yes and I could ride her off into the sunset, but as a pregnant senior at the California Institute of Arts and Sciences with a whole life ahead of her, she's pragmatic, smart, and reasonable. It is exactly what we need to be doing and in one year we’ll have the wedding of the century because I’m not going to change my mind.
She yawns and I understand that the vigorous love making as well as the late hour and the early stages of her pregnancy have probably left her absolutely exhausted.
I pick her up again and she grumbles but this time, doesn't say anything as her head lobs against my chest. The feeling is incredible.
I dry both of us off and set her on the bed.
I slide in next to her, kiss her cheeks and spoon in behind.
She falls asleep within minutes; my cock rises with her soft breathing and I simply let the warmth of her body satisfy his needs.
Sometime during the middle of the night she turns into me and kisses my chest and then my lips, and in a half-euphoric sleep she places me inside of her.
We slowly, quietly, and deliberately make love.
We're both half-dazed, both dreaming, and we're both falling in love.
Her tiny gasps and cries let me know she's reached her peak as I've gently massaged for G-spot and her clit, getting to know the places that make her come.
I quietly find my release and fall into the deepest, most blissful sleep.
We wake up to a fervent pounding at the door that splits my head.
“You two love birds, it’s ten thirty. The muffins are going to get hard as bricks if you don’t come down and get breakfast soon. We have a charity event at twelve at my church, so get yourselves decent. We do not sleep all day in this house.” God bless Gran.
“Yep, we’re getting up,” I groan and Juliet buries her face in my chest.
“Tell me that’s not my Grandmother.” Her cheeks redden with embarrassment.
“No. That is a little old lady drill sergeant.” I snuggle her closer. “Truth is, I never sleep in this late. I must have a billion emails and texts to address but fuck um.” I kiss her head. “I’d rather be here with you being yelled at by Gran.”
“I don’t know, if you fuck all those emails and texts, will they be as sore as I am?” She winces and I laugh.
“You shouldn’t get me so riled up,” I tease.
“Threatening to leave me is not a good look on you and it makes me completely feral. We should dial back these extremes, Juliet.” I say, totally being sarcastic.
“We’ll both end up broken and I’m not that young anymore. I’ve only got a few good years left.”
“Do you have all of your original teeth?” She pops her head up and looks in my mouth, also teasing.
“A full set,” I lash out and nip at her beautiful breast, latching onto the nipple.
“Oh, my God,” she squeals.
“You think we can get one more round in before the muffins turn to stone?” I whisper tickling her sweet belly, imagining it big and beautiful.
“Oh, I think we do.” She pops on top of me. “But I get to drive.”
I lean back and let her fit my cock inside of her very wet cunt. “Where are we going?”
Church, it turns out.
We go to Gran’s church after one more delightful session together before we dress and meet Gran downstairs for relatively soft, fresh baked muffins that are good. Gran was right, she isn’t the best cook or baker it turns out. She only has a few signature dishes but she does those well.
The church smells like pine needles, candle wax, and cinnamon, all comforting and holy all at once.
Gran squeezes Juliet’s arm as we step inside.
I linger back for a moment, taking in everything since I don’t belong.
I am definitely an outsider. At the far end of the hall stands a towering Christmas tree, glittering with ornaments.
But instead of baubles and tinsel, slips of paper dangle from the branches.
Upon closer inspection, I realize they are wishes scrawled in children’s writing asking Santa for things like socks, heat, and a winter jacket.
I approach the tree, curious at first and pluck one of the wishes off the branch and read it.
Dear Santa, Merry Christmas. This is Cole.
My sister Maria and I would like to share our wish.
Our Mom needs to find a house for us to live in.
We promise we will be good. We don’t need a lot of bedrooms, or anything fancy, but we hope we get one that doesn’t have cracks in the walls and windows.
My sister thinks they look like spiders.
Thank you Santa. I know what we are asking for is bigger than your sleigh, but Mom always says that Christmas is a magical time. I hope you can help us make magic.
I read wish after wish, only one kid asked for a television set, the rest are things no kid should have to use a Christmas wish on.
One is for a cure for cancer, another is for a father to return from the army, three kids need shoes, one needs a new sweater, another would like a Barbie blanket for her cold room.
I realize when I see the addresses these kids are giving Santa that they are from the demolition zone.
These are the kids that live in the derelict houses and I can’t help it. My heart hurts reading each one.
“A bike,” I murmur out loud, my voice strangely hoarse. “New shoes, food for the fridge.”
Gran comes to my side and watches me as I read each and every wish. My hands start to tremble as I reach for the next, angry, sad, distraught at each one, because the shocking wishes are for the basics every child should already have.
“A stuffed bear, a toaster oven, firewood.” I look at Gran, and I am seeking guidance and help, something I’ve never asked for. “Who ... who organized this? And how? What can I do?”