Isabelle #4
The second orgasm crashes hard on the heels of the first, my back arching as I grind myself into him, his fingers curling, rocking into me.
I'm ruining his jeans, and I don't fucking care.
His fingers pump into me as I moan and writhe, drawing out the orgasm for as long as he can, and then he yanks his hand away, wrapping his other arm around my back as he pulls me up into a searing kiss.
"Get my jeans open," he groans. "Get that cock out, pretty girl."
I moan, fumbling for his belt, and he pushes his two fingers between our mouths, smearing my arousal over my lips as he licks it away.
He pushes his fingers between my lips as I yank down his zipper, then drags them back into his, sharing the taste of my orgasm between us as I finally, finally feel the hot, thick swell of his bare cock against my drenched pussy.
He hisses at the sensation, his arm tightening as he moves me up and down, smearing my wetness all over his shaft as the hard heat of it rubs against my clit, my folds, all over me. I'm panting, moaning, and he bites my lower lip, reaching between us.
"I'm going to fuck you so hard," he growls. "I'm going to make you come so many times you cry, for all the shit you've put me through since we…"
I feel a vibration against my thigh, in his pocket.
Julian freezes.
"No!" I grab his chin, my hand reaching between us for his cock. "Don't stop, Julian, for fuck's sake…"
But he's already pushing me off his lap.
Not rudely… he lifts me slightly and sets me on the side away from the spilled wine glass, but he stands the moment I'm seated, fumbling in his pocket for his buzzing phone with one hand as he tries to put his too-stiff cock away with the other.
He curses as he does it, turning as he wrestles with his erection and looks at the phone at the same time.
But he doesn't do it fast enough for me not to see his face as he reads whatever message just came through. His jaw tightens, and his entire body goes rigid.
"What is it?" I ask, though I already know the answer won't be good.
"We have to go." His voice is flat. He's managed to get himself decent again somehow, and his entire demeanor is as if nothing that just happened actually did. "Now."
I blink, still half in a daze. "What? Why?"
"There's someone in the area. Too close. We need to move immediately." He's already heading for the door, his phone in his hand. "Pack everything. We leave in ten minutes."
"Julian—"
"Ten minutes, Isabelle." He doesn't look back. "I'm not negotiating on this."
I stand on the balcony for a moment longer, my body still thrumming with unfulfilled desire, my lips swollen from his kisses. The cool night air raises goosebumps on my skin, and I wrap my arms around myself. We were so close. So fucking close.
And now we're running again.
I go back inside and start throwing my few belongings into my bag, my hands shaking with frustration and fear. Julian is in the other room doing the same as he packs his laptop and checks his gun.
"How close are they?" I ask when I emerge from the bedroom with my bag.
"Close enough." His expression is grim. "There's a car two blocks away that's been sitting in the same spot for the last hour. I'm not taking chances."
"Where are we going?"
"I'll tell you when we're on the road." He takes my bag from me and slings it over his shoulder along with his own. "Stay close to me. Don't make any noise. If I tell you to run, you run. Understood?"
"Yes."
He looks at me then, and for just a moment, I see the desire still burning in his eyes, the frustration that mirrors my own.
But his face shutters a second later, and I know we're back to where we were before. Disappointment burns in my gut, but I know now isn't the time.
"Let's go," I say quietly, and I see a flicker of relief in his face.
We slip out of the safe house into the darkness, moving quickly and quietly through the empty streets.
Julian keeps me close, his hand on my lower back, his eyes constantly scanning for threats as we take a roundabout route to where Julian has a vehicle stashed.
My heart is pounding, adrenaline mixing with the lingering arousal from the balcony, making everything feel sharp and surreal.
I can still taste him on my lips, still feel the ghost of his hands on my body.
We were so close. And now we're running again, and I don't know when—or if—we'll get another chance.
Julian helps me into the passenger seat of a nondescript car, then slides behind the wheel. He doesn't start the engine immediately. Instead, he sits there for a moment, his hands gripping the steering wheel, his jaw tight.
"Julian—"
"Don't." His voice is rough. "Don't say anything right now. Please."
So I don't. I just sit there in the darkness, watching him struggle with whatever he's feeling, and I wonder if this is what it's going to be like from now on. Desire is interrupted by danger. Always running, never quite reaching each other.
Finally, he starts the engine and pulls out onto the empty street.
And we disappear into the night once more.