Chapter 4 #2
I nudge my ass back and watch our reflection in the mirror as his mouth tips into a smile.
Knowing what this is doing to him—the hard press of him and how the tiniest bit of friction has him humming in approval—injects a heady mix of confidence and lust into my veins.
The low vibrating buzz of the fan is the only sound covering what we’re doing in here and masking it to whomever was just standing outside that door.
I widen my legs to grant him better access. “More.”
It's the only direction he needs as he grips the waistband of my jeans, shoving them down my ass and thighs.
I gasp, taken off guard by the sudden movement.
He palms my ass with a throaty growl as he squeezes. A little thrill zips through me as he kisses along my neck as he comes back to his full height, the look on his face showing his hunger for me.
I lean my weight against him, watching as our dirty fantasy plays out.
His fingers tease into the waist of my panties while his other hand pulls the neckline of my shirt to the side.
Sending a wave of arousal right between my thighs, his teeth graze the curve of my neck.
He growls next to my ear, watching along with me as his fingers move below.
Breath rushes from my mouth as two of his fingers tease along the lips of my pussy.
“Is she feeling needy?” he whispers quietly, and goose bumps trickle across my skin.
His head lowers and his nose moves to the crook of my neck as he takes a deep breath.
On his exhale, one finger glides into me. “She’s so wet, isn’t she?”
I exhale and nod as I watch his hand between my legs.
“I’ve never wanted to watch someone come more than I do right now.
Will you do that for me, Naomi? Will you let me fuck you with my fingers?
” His lips roam along my neck as his finger pumps slowly in and out, running through my lips and to my clit and back again. “Will you come all over them for me?”
I can’t hold back the whimper he pulls from me. My eyes close, head tipping back against his shoulder as he keeps the same pace.
“Are you telling me you want more?” he asks gruffly.
“Yes,” I whimper. “More.”
His fingers move away.
I shift, opening my eyes, but before I can protest, he grips the sides of my jeans and tugs them down farther.
Another double knock hits the door. Our eyes meet in the mirror, and he calls out, “I said, someone’s in here.”
Without wasting any more time, he reaches down between us, his hand gripping along my ass and then lower.
His wrist twists and then two fingers glide through me, spreading the lips of my pussy, back and forth before he moves higher, grazing my clit on the second stroke.
It makes my mouth open, and the smallest hum vibrates in my throat.
I haven’t been touched in so long. And not like this.
I can’t remember it ever feeling this good.
He pulls me tightly against his body, my back pressing from his chest to his hard length confined by his jeans.
Taking all my weight, one of his arms wraps beneath my breasts while the other teases along my clit.
The way his skillful fingers work me over as he holds me tightly feels like he’s taken complete control. Goddesses, I love it.
Raising my arm up to pull his lips closer, my fingers glide into his hair as he kisses along my neck.
His teeth graze along my skin as his touch skims along my opening before two of his fingers slide inside. My eyes flutter closed for a moment to enjoy the stretch and fullness.
“Fucking beautiful,” he whispers softly, and it has me feeling lightheaded. I open my eyes to find him watching me in the reflection of the mirror. His mouth tips up on the right side, knowing all too well what he’s doing to me.
I look down and watch as I ride his fingers.
It sends a rush through me, and I can’t help but feel turned on by the reflection of us, being able to watch what we look like together right now.
He shifts as I lean back and hold him close.
Moving his other hand down between my thighs.
Without faltering, his fingers find my clit as they spread my arousal in slicked, slow circles.
I’ve touched myself this way plenty of times, but with him, it’s unpredictable and feels like I have permission to let go.
“Oh god,” I moan as pleasure builds and my skin flushes hot. “I need?—”
“Me to make you come?” he cuts in. “That’s it, soak my fingers. I want you dripping down to my wrist.”
“Oh god.” I’m unable to catch my breath. Between his fingers and words, I know I’m going to come so hard. “Yesss, please,” I plead. I want this feeling to linger and crest all at once.
His fingers never waver on my clit, the steady pace and pressure like a masterclass in erotic persistence. His lips brush my shoulder first and then his beard scratches along my neck as he adds a third finger.
My fingers grip into his hair while my other hand presses against his, adding pressure and watching the reflection of all of it play out in front of me.
He practically growls as he says, “The sound of you on my fingers . . .” His lips brush along my neck, eliciting another shiver. “So damn wet and tight. Listen to the way your pussy’s making such a mess for me.”
The fullness mixed with his words is exactly what I need to push me right to the edge. Mere moments of this, his teeth nipping my neck, his dirty words ghosting my skin, and a weightless tingle begins behind my knees.
“You’re going to come for me, aren’t you?”
A desperate whimper and dazed nod are all I can respond with.
“Go ahead. Let me feel you grip my fingers nice and tight. Show me how pretty you look when you come, Naomi.”
My eyes snap open to see our reflection just as my orgasm crashes through my body like a goddamn awakening.
As my pussy contracts and grips his fingers relentlessly, I cry out, trembling against him, our eyes never leaving each other in the mirror until I’ve ridden the last wave of euphoria.
Eyes closing on a heaving breath, I fall and fucking die a little in his arms.
His lips trail along my neck and shoulder as awareness finds me again. I want more, more, more. An orgasm like that deserves more than just shifting clothes back into place. I turn to face him, just as another knock hits the door, followed by a muffled, “I gotta piss,” and we both share a smile.
“Two minutes,” Julian calls out as he shifts his fingers from between my legs and then lifts them to his mouth. When he sinks the digits between his lips and hums with pleasure, my brain explodes. Is this really happening? My pussy flutters like she didn’t just come harder than she ever has.
I swallow as he lowers to his knees, reaching for my panties and pants that are pooled there. He leans in, and his face buries between my thighs. I hear him take a deep breath of me, and then he slowly licks up my center.
I can’t help but shudder at the sensation and try to chase it as I roll my hips forward. My mouth opens, no sounds coming out other than the rush of breath that he’s stolen from me.
When he pulls back, his beard is shiny, and he smiles up at me. “I could spend hours savoring this sexy cunt of yours, Naomi.” He nips at my thigh as he guides my panties and jeans up my legs.
My face is already heated, but the way he speaks to me with such palpable desire makes another ripple of lust buckle my knees.
As he stands, he shifts the hard-on that’s tenting his pants and scoops up his T-shirt from the floor.
He turns, giving me his back, and I’m rewarded with a closer glimpse of the artwork that’s drawn there.
I can’t help but reach out and trace the compass and coordinates at the center.
Out from there are shapes of small birds and paper airplanes—some shaded in black and others just outlined. Beautiful. He pauses, letting me touch.
He wouldn’t know, considering I left my shirt on, but I have tattoos along my back too.
I never wanted tattoos, but it’s one of the many things that’s different about me now.
I needed something that was pretty on my skin when I arrived here.
I wanted something to offset the ugliness that lingered.
Where his are black and gray, taking up the expanse of his entire back, mine are bright and bold.
Pinks and greens and golds run up my spine.
Tattoos of the flowers I remembered from my grandmother’s garden.
I didn’t want to see them every day, but I wanted to know they were there and that I could look at them when I wanted.
I finish righting myself, and without overthinking, I say, “I don’t want this to be over.” Turning around, I watch as he runs his hand along the back of his neck, weighing his response.
“Neither do I,” he says, moving toward me, claiming my lips in another kiss.
His arms wrap around me, hands wandering, making me feel the most wanted I think I ever have.
I’m drunk on this man—this stranger. I don’t care if it’s because I’ve been celibate and healing, or in doing so, I’ve realized just how lonely I’ve always been.
This moment feels too good to stop and dissect or explore the deep-rooted whys.
I smile against his lips as he kisses me. His tongue tastes like me, and I think about how much I’d like mine to taste like him. Moaning, I nip at his lower lip.
With a lazy smile, his lips press to mine again before he asks, “Where did you come from?” He doesn’t wait for my answer as his mouth moves lower, lips gliding below my ear as he grazes his teeth along my pulse point.
I unlock the door and twist the knob. “Small town,” I say with a small shrug. When he lifts his head, I lean forward and kiss him again, seemingly unable to stop. “Somewhere I doubt you’d know.”